Rings for the finger

If we pass over the scene between Judah and his daughter-in-law Tamar, related in Gen. xxxvii, 12–26, where the patriarch leaves his signet (not necessarily a signet ring) his bracelets and his staff, as pledges for a promised gift, the earliest Hebrew notice of a ring is in Genesis xlii, 42, where we read that in return for the interpretation of his dream and for the valuable counsel as to laying up a stock of grain in Egypt to forestall a coming famine, the Pharaoh of the time “took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph’s hand.” This might refer to a period about 1600 B.C., or possibly somewhat earlier, always providing the tradition be accepted as in a certain sense exact. Centuries later, in the Desert, when the Lord commanded offerings for the Tabernacle, the Ark of the Covenant, and for the ephod and breastplate, among the gifts proffered are enumerated “bracelets, earrings, and rings” (Exodus, xxxv, 22). The Book of Daniel, written not earlier than the sixth century before Christ, and more probably, in its present form, a work of the second century B.C., relating the imprisonment of Daniel in the lions’ den, states that when at the reluctant command of King Darius he was shut up therein, “a stone was brought, and laid upon the mouth of the den; and the king sealed it with his own signet, and with the signet of his lords” (Dan. vi, 17). Still, these might have been of the well-known Babylonian type of “rolling seals” and not rings.

The Book of Esther, however, of later date than Daniel, makes definite mention of the signet ring of the Persian monarch called Ahasuerus (Artaxerxes) in the Biblical text, and while the recital can scarcely be accepted as historical in any sense, the details of custom and adornment are probably quite trustworthy. On investing Haman with a great authority, Ahasuerus “took his ring from his hand and gave it unto Haman,” whereupon the latter summoned the king’s scribes and had them write letters to the provincial governors—instructing the latter to kill all the Jews in the kingdom on the thirteenth day of the month Adar; each of these letters was “sealed with the king’s ring.” Before this dire disaster could be consummated, the royal favor was gently swayed in an opposite direction by the grace and charm of Esther, the Hebrew favorite of the sovereign, and the wicked Haman was hanged on the tall gallows he had set up for Mordecai, Esther’s guardian, on whom the ring stript from Haman’s hand was bestowed. In spite of the somewhat confused recital, one point is always strongly brought out, that the impression of the royal signet imparted to letters or documents the quality of royal ordinances.

In Persia the power and authority attributed to the ring of the sovereign is noted by the Persian poet Unsuri (fl. 1000 A.D.), and in the legends of that land the famous though fabulous hero-king, Jemshid, is said to have had a magic ring of wondrous power. Among the Persians, as in many other Oriental countries, the signet-ring was long considered to be a symbol of authority.[189]

The gold ring of Queen Hâtshepset (about 1500 B.C.), consort of Thothmes II, whose prenomen, Maât-ka-Ra, signifies “flesh and blood of Amen Ra,” is set with a lapis lazuli scarab inscribed with the above words.[190] Another ring with lapis lazuli setting is that of Thothmes III, whose titles, Beautiful God, Conqueror of All Lands, Men-kheper-Ra, are inscribed on one side of the rectangular stone above a design representing a man-headed lion in the act of crushing a prostrate foe with his paw.[191] A steatite scarab, set in a gold ring, bears the name of Ptah-mes, a high priest of Memphis.[192] Another steatite ring-scarab is inscribed with the name and title of Shashank I, the Shishak of the Bible, who reigned about 966 B.C.[193]

The gold signet ring of Aah-hotep I, queen of Seqenenra III (1610–1597 B.C.) of the XVII Dynasty, was found with a wealth of other jewels at Draa-abul-Nega, the northern and most ancient part of the Theban necropolis. This queen had an unusually long and eventful life. The records clearly indicate that she must have been one hundred years old, or very nearly that age, at the time of her death, and while her youth was passed at the end of the period of the oppressive rule of the foreign Hyksos kings, she lived to witness the glorious revival of native Egyptian rule under her husband, son and grandson. This ring is now in the Louvre Museum.[194]

An interesting Egyptian signet bears the cartouche of Khufu, the second ruler of the IV Dynasty (ab. 3969–3908), the Cheops of the Greeks (Manetho’s Suphis), in whose reign the greatest of the pyramids was built. The worship of Khufu continued to a late period of Egyptian history, and this signet belonged to a Ra-nefer-ab, priest or keeper of the pyramid under the XXVI Dynasty, 664–525 B.C.[195] The ring is of fine gold, and weighs nearly ¾ ounce; it was found at Ghizeh by Colonel Vyse, in a tomb known as Campbell’s Tomb, and was acquired in Egypt by Dr. Abbott, who gathered together a choice collection of Egyptian antiquities during a residence of twenty years in Egypt. In 1860, this collection was given to the New York Historical Society through the liberality of citizens of New York.[196]

The rings of the Minoan and Mycenæan periods from about 1700 B.C. to 1000 B.C. offer a great variety of engraved designs, some in relief and others in intaglio, but all destined it seems for use as signets. Undoubtedly these rings derive in the last instance from Egyptian influence, their especial characteristics, however, are early Greek, but rarely Egyptian, as in the case of a bronze ring with a sphinx in relief found in the necropolis of Zafer Papoura near Knossos in Crete.

Many of the Mycenæan engraved rings were evidently not intended to be used for sealing, as the intaglio is frequently very shallow, and as the proper position of the parts of the body would not be rightly shown in an impression. Hence these rings must have been designed simply for wear as ornaments. The hoop is often astonishingly small, so much so that it will not pass down onto the third finger-joint of an average man’s hand, and would only fit the very slender finger of a woman.[197]

Some remarkably fine rings are in the Cesnola Collection of Cypriote Antiquities in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Among them two serpentine rings of gold are well worth noting. In one of these the coil has six turns which are brazed together; at either end is a ram’s head. The other ring shows a serpent of two full coils, with erect head and curved neck and tail; scales are marked at the ends. The bands of the ring are smooth and plain.[198] Many of the rings are of the swivel type and are set with artistically engraved scarabs. In one of these the scarab is of green plasma, translucent but somewhat clouded; the cutting is well executed. The bottom shows two wrestlers, each entirely nude with the exception of a short ribbed apron about the loins. Behind each is an erect uræus (the serpent emblem of Egyptian divinities and kings), with wings like those of the goddess Mut, extended in protection. Between the wrestlers, on the ground, is an object resembling a wolf’s head. The bow and collet of this signet are of gold. The plasma scarab in another of these swivel rings has been pronounced to be a perfect example of this form. The stone is a pure green and the scarab has been decorated with two seated, winged androsphinxes (with man’s head and lion’s body), the paws raised before the sacred tree between them; the symbol of lordship, neb, is placed below. The hoop is a plain, thin wire.[199]

Two massive ivory rings were found in the course of excavations at Salamis, on the island of Cyprus. One was set with an oval disk of green glass, and was of the type used for sealing amphoræ of wine. The other bears the head of a woman in bas-relief; this is probably a cameo of Arsinoë.[200]

The story of the ring of Polycrates, tyrant of Samos (d. 522 B.C.), is related by Herodotus[201] (b. 484 B.C.), who, writing less than a century after the death of Polycrates, may probably give us the main facts with reasonable accuracy. According to this account, Polycrates had formed an alliance with Amasis, King of Egypt, and the latter began to fear that the unbroken good fortune of the Samian ruler would arouse the jealousy of the gods; he therefore counselled Polycrates to throw away his most prized treasure. This was a splendid emerald, set in a gold ring, and engraved by Theodorus of Samos, the supreme master of the art of gem engraving in that age. Acceding to the request of Amasis, Polycrates sailed out to sea on one of his ships and cast the precious ring into the waters. However, the gods refused the gift, for not long afterward the tyrant’s chief cook brought him back the ring, which had just been found in cutting up a fish. News of this occurrence was sent to Amasis, who immediately broke off the alliance, since he believed that the gods were implacable, and would visit Polycrates with downfall and destruction. This, indeed, proved to be the case, as a few years later the tyrant was inveigled into the power of Orœtes, a Persian satrap, and was put to death by crucifixion.

The design engraved upon this ring was a lyre, if we can trust the statement to this effect made centuries later by Clemens Alexandrinus.[202] Strange to say Pliny, who relates the story quite fully, asserts that in the Temple of Concord there was shown the supposed gem of the famous ring of Polycrates. This was an unengraved sardonyx, set in a golden cornucopia, and had been dedicated to the temple by Augustus. Pliny is careful to write “if we may believe,” in reporting this almost certainly spurious treasure of the Temple of Concord. Probably the attribution was nothing more than an invention of the custodians to enlist the interest of visitors.

A corroboration to a certain extent of the tradition that the seal of Polycrates was cut on an emerald is given by the existence of a small engraved emerald of about this period, found in Cyprus, and evidently of Phœnician workmanship. It bears the figure of a sovereign holding a sceptre in one hand and an axe in the other; on his head is a high tiara and the arrangement of hair and beard, as well as the dress and other details, are of Ægypto-Syrian type. This gem formed part of the Tyszkiewicz Collection.[203]

In a recently published work, M. Salomon Reinach, of the National Museum at St. Germain-en-Laye, an archæologist of the highest repute, makes a curious conjecture in regard to the real significance of the story related by Herodotus regarding this signet. M. Reinach holds that when Polycrates sailed out to sea to cast away his ring, he was engaged in the performance of a ceremony similar to that performed annually by the Doges of Venice, when they wedded the Adriatic by casting a ring into its waters. Polycrates, as a “thalassocrat,” or ruler of the sea, celebrated in this way his mastery over this element, and M. Reinach believes that this act, told as an isolated happening by Herodotus, was really a ceremony repeated each year. The conjecture is an ingenious one, although it may not be generally accepted.[204]

The signet of the Persian sovereign, Xerxes, is said to have borne the nude figure of a woman with disheveled hair.[205] This depicted Anahita, the Persian goddess of fertilization and also of war, a divinity closely resembling the Assyrian Ishtar in her attributes and functions. According to other ancient authorities, however, the design was either a portrait of Xerxes himself, that of Cyrus the Great, or else a representation of the horse whose neighing legend states to have been received as an omen determining the choice of Darius Hystaspes, father of Xerxes, as King of Persia.

In Græco-Roman times, a certain Eurates is represented to be the owner of a ring set with an engraved signet bearing the head of the Pythian Apollo, and to have boasted that the ring literally “spoke” to him. Of course, the satirist Lucian, who tells this tale, only offers it as a specimen of the lies told by Eurates, still the recital indicates that such fables were credited in the second century of our era.[206]

Another superstitious use of signet rings was to throw a number of them into a heap and pull out one at random, the design engraved on the signet being interpreted as a favorable or unfavorable omen, which foretold the outcome of any contemplated action. An instance of this appears in Plutarch’s life of Timoleon (d. 337 B.C.), the Greek general who freed Syracuse from the tyrant Dionysius. In one of his campaigns the enemy had taken up a strong position behind a river, which the troops of Timoleon were forced to ford. A noble rivalry sprang up among the officers as to who should be the first to enter the river, and Timoleon, fearing that confusion would result from the dispute, decided to settle the question by lot. Therefore he took from each of the officers his signet ring, cast them into his own cloak, shook them together, and drew out one, which fortunately bore the figure of a trophy. This was hailed as a good omen, the quarrel was forgotten, and the stream was forded so impetuously, and the attack was so vigorous that the enemy was overwhelmed.[207]

After his Persian conquests, in 331 B.C., Alexander the Great sealed the letters he sent to Europe with his old seal, while for those sent to functionaries in his new Asiatic domains he used the seal of Darius III, Codomannus (reigned 336–330 B.C.), whose daughter Statira he afterwards wedded. Quintus Curtius regards this as emblematic of the idea that a single mind was not wide enough to embrace two such destinies,[208] but the true reason was undoubtedly that the Asiatic officials were already familiar with the Persian sovereign’s seal and were accustomed to render it due obedience.

The emblem of the anchor used by the Seleucidæ, the dynasty founded in Syria by Seleucus Nicator, one of Alexander’s generals, is said to have originated in a strange dream of Laodicea, mother of Seleucus and wife of Antiochus. One night she dreamt that she was visited by the God Apollo, and that he bestowed upon her a ring set with a stone on which an anchor was engraved. This was to be given to the son she was to bear. As such a ring was found in the room the next morning, the dream seemed to be thoroughly corroborated, and, moreover, when Seleucus was born, he had on his thigh the birthmark of an anchor. Subsequent to Alexander’s death in 323 B.C., Seleucus founded, in 312 B.C. the kingdom of Syria, which was transmitted to a long series of his descendants, each of whom in turn is said to have borne a similar birthmark.[209]

In the Hellenistic period (ca. 300 B.C.-ca. 100 B.C.) signet rings entirely of metal largely gave place to those in which the seal was engraved on a stone set in a metal ring. Chalcedony continued to be freely used for this purpose, but the employment of the choicer and harder precious stones from India, transparent and brilliant, and of deeper coloring, characterizes this period. In the front rank is the jacinth, unknown in earlier times, with its wonderful ruddy hues. This is the favorite stone of the time. Usually the gem is given a strongly convex form in order to bring out better the play of color. Scarcely less favored than the jacinths were the garnets, also cut in a convex shape; in many cases the under side was cut slightly concave to enhance the effect. Evidently, however, garnets were less prized than jacinths, for the engravings on the former are almost without exception much inferior to those on the latter. Sometimes, in this period, unengraved garnets, cut convex, are used for ring adornment. Another precious stone that makes its first appearance in the Hellenistic epoch is the beryl, which, because of its costliness, is more rarely met with than those we have already mentioned. It is only used for the very finest work, as is also the case with the topaz. The amethyst, which had almost gone out of fashion in the preceding periods, was now restored to favor, principally because of its beautiful color; like the other stones, it was cut convex. Rock crystal was still used, as were also carnelian and sardonyx.[210]

That cruel persecutor of the Jews, Antiochus IV, Epiphanes (175–164 B.C.), on his death-bed, confided to his most trusted councillor, Philip, the signet ring from his finger, that it might be held in trust for his son, a child but nine years old, until the latter should come of age and exercise the royal authority. In the meanwhile, the grant of the signet was equivalent to the bestowal of the regency upon Philip, as he had the power to affix the royal seal upon all edicts or ordinances. The son did not, however, live to receive the ring, as he only survived his father two years, although he was a nominal successor under the title, Antiochus V, Eupator.[211]

Two Greek epigrams in the Anthology, on engraved amethysts in signet rings, express the prevailing superstition regarding the sobering effect of this precious stone; these have been very well Englished by Rev. C. W. King.[212] One, by Antipater, concerns a signet of Cleopatra and runs in King’s version as follows:

That this was really a ring-stone is proved by the Greek words “on the queen’s hand,” which King has not literally translated. The image was that of Methe, goddess of intoxication. The other epigram is shorter but to the same point:

That admiration of a work of art on the part of an unscrupulous official is sometimes fraught with danger for the rightful ownership of the object, was illustrated in the case of a seal ring belonging to a Roman citizen of Agrigentum in Sicily. The arch-pilferer Verres, Roman governor of the island from 73 to 71 B.C., being on one occasion struck by the beauty of a seal impression on a letter just handed to his interpreter Vitellius, asked whence the letter came and who was the sender. The information was of course quickly given, and thereupon Verres, then in Syracuse, dictated a letter to his representative in Agrigentum, requiring that the seal ring should be forwarded to Syracuse without delay, and the owner, a certain Lucius Titius, was forced to give it up to the unscrupulous Roman governor.[213] The injustice of this act must have been felt all the more keenly that the special and peculiar design on a seal was then regarded as something closely linked with the personality of the owner.

A strong appeal to the memories aroused by a signet bearing the effigy of a renowned ancestor, was made by Cicero in one of his orations against Catilina. He declared that when he submitted to Publius Lentulus Sura, who was involved in the great Catilinian conspiracy, an incriminating letter believed to be his, asking him whether he did not acknowledge the seal with which it was stamped, Lentulus nodded assent. Thereupon Cicero addressed him in these words: “In effect the seal is well known, it is the image of your ancestor, whose sole love was for his country and his fellow-citizens. Mute as it is, this image should have sufficed to hold you aloof from such a crime.”[214]

When, after the decisive battle of Pharsala, Julius Cæsar came to Egypt in pursuit of his defeated adversary, Pompey, he learned that the latter had been treacherously assassinated by the Egyptians, who hoped thereby to gain favor with the conqueror. As proof of Pompey’s death, his head was brought to Cæsar, who turned away in aversion from the messenger of death. At the same time, Pompey’s signet ring was given to the victor, on receiving which tears rose to his eyes,[215] for no memento could be more potent than such a ring. Cæsar’s manifestation of grief was absolutely free from hypocrisy for he was “of a noble generous nature,” and had long had the most friendly relations with Pompey, to whom he gave his daughter Julia in marriage, until the inevitable rivalry for the control of Rome brought them into enmity. The death of Julia is said to have contributed not a little to the termination of the friendship between Cæsar and Pompey.

St. Ambrose answering the self-posed query, whether anyone having an image of a tyrant was liable to punishment, asserts that he remembered to have read that certain persons who wore rings bearing the effigies of Brutus and Cassius, the assassins of Cæsar, had been condemned to capital punishment.[216] Of course, the wearing of such a ring would imply not only an admiration of the person figured, but also devotion to his cause.

The imprint of a proprietor’s seal was frequently made upon his trees, and served to establish his ownership, so that strangers could have no excuse for cutting them down, or in case of fruit trees, for plucking the fruit. The degree of confidence reposed in the seal impression is strikingly illustrated by the account that when Pompey learned that some of his soldiers were committing atrocities on the march, he ordered that all their swords should be sealed, and no one should remove the impression without having obtained permission to do so.[217]

The symbols used as mint-marks on ancient coins are often reproductions of the seals of the chief magistrate of the city or district, or else of the mint-master. Among these may be noted such types as: a locust, a calf’s head, a dancing Satyr, a young male head, a culex (gnat), etc.[218] A ring as a mint-mark on early English coins is a clear indication that such coins were struck in one of the ecclesiastical mints. On a penny of Stephen’s reign (1135–1154), from the Archbishop of York’s mint, this mint-mark has been made by converting the left leaf of the fleur-de-lys surmounting the sceptre into a small annulet. The ring-mark appears on the coins of York from the earliest times, and is assumed to have been especially favored for the English Primate’s mint in reference to the Ring of St. Peter, or the Fisherman’s Ring. A penny, probably coined after the installation of Archbishop William in 1141, appears to be one of the earliest of this type. The reverse gives Ulf as the name of the coiner or moneyer.[219]

While none of the signet rings of Roman emperors, or even of Romans prominent in the social or political life of the centuries immediately preceding and succeeding the beginning of the Christian Era, have been preserved, it is possible to learn from literary sources the devices engraved on many of them. Scipio Africanus, the conqueror of Hannibal, had his father’s portrait engraved on his signet, and his son followed the father’s example in this respect. The idea seems to be an excellent one, as both family honor and filial love could thus find expression. The gifted, but dissolute Sylla, in the first design he had cut upon his signet, sought to perpetuate the memory of his victory over Jugurtha in 107 B.C., the Mauritanian king Bocchus being depicted in the act of surrendering Jugurtha. Later on Sylla used a signet with three trophies, and finally selected one with a portrait of Alexander the Great. For Lucullus, the great gourmet and master of all the arts of Roman luxury, the head of Ptolemy, King of Egypt, seemed the design best fitted for his signet.

The two great rivals, Pompey and Cæsar, chose widely divergent symbols. The former wore a signet engraved with a lion bearing a sword, while on Cæsar’s ring was cut an armed Venus, the Venus Victrix, from whom the gens Julia claimed descent, and for whose statue Cæsar is said to have brought pearls from Britain to be set on the statue’s breastplate. The first choice made by Augustus was a sphinx, in symbolical allusion to his taciturnity; later in his reign he wore a signet with Alexander the Great’s head engraved thereon, and finally, moved perhaps by the flatteries of his adulators, he substituted his own image for that of the great Macedonian. The famous literary patron of the Augustan Age, Mæcenas (d. 8 A.D.), who was at the same time a very able statesman, chose the singular emblem of a frog. That the bloodthirsty Nero should select a design figuring a martyrdom seems very appropriate, and in the flaying of Marsyas by Apollo cut on his ring, he undoubtedly identified himself with the sun god and leader of the muses who took vengeance upon his would-be rival in the musical art. For Nero was a most devoted amateur of the arts as he understood them, and had sung—in a strained, high-pitched voice it is said—in the theatres of Greece, earning applause enough from the wily Greeks we may be sure. Actuated by jealousy, he is said to have had the singer Menedemus whipped, and to have warmly applauded his “melodious” cries of agony, evidently rejoicing in having forced him to “sing another song.”

Galba (3–69 B.C.), Nero’s immediate successor, is said to have used successively three signets, the first depicting a dog bending its head beneath the prow of a ship; this was followed by a ring showing a Victory with a trophy, and lastly came one bearing the effigies of his ancestors. As his reign of less than a year seems too short for us to suppose that all these changes were made in that time, perhaps only the last-mentioned ring was the one he used as emperor. Commodus (161–192 A.D.), the unworthy son of the philosopher-emperor, Marcus Aurelius, had the figure of an Amazon engraved for his signet, this choice having been made, so it is said, because of the pleasure he took in seeing his mistress Martia dressed in this way.

Augustus Cæsar reposed such unlimited confidence in his son-in-law, Agrippa, and in his friend and finance minister, Mæcenas, that he was in the habit of confiding his letters to them for correction, and gave them permission to send off the corrected letters, bearing the stamp of his signet which he had deposited in their charge, without submitting them again to him. Similar trust was reposed by Vespasian in Mutianus.[220]

The seal was stamped on a linen band passed around the closed tablets on the inside surfaces of which the letter had been written. The impression, made when the ends of the band were joined, was either upon wax, soft viscous earth, or even on a mixture of chalk; this was commonly moistened with saliva before the signet was used, so that the engraved stone might not adhere to the imprint and could be easily taken off. The bearer of such a letter fully realized his responsibility for its delivery with unbroken seal, and generally took pains to have this duly recognized by the person to whom it was addressed.[221] The personal seal was also impressed, both in Roman times and later, upon all documents private or public. In the case of private documents the strictly guarded individuality of the seal really afforded a very considerable guarantee of the genuineness of a document. A survival of this is the common little red seal attached now-a-days to legal documents, necessary to their validity it is true, but giving no possible confirmation of the signature. This latter was in fact represented by the design of the old signets.

The “Dream Book” of Artemidorus relates as an especially direful vision, that of one who dreamed his signet ring had dropped from his finger, and that the engraved stone set therein had broken into many fragments, the result of this being that he could transact no business for forty-five days,[222] presumably until he could have a new signet engraved. For the impression of the individual signet was indispensable to give validity to any order or agreement.

The Jewish historian Josephus cites, as an example of absent-mindedness, that when the Roman senator Cneius Sentius Saturninus arose in the senate and pronounced a fiery harangue on the death of Caligula, urging the senators to regain their former liberties of which they had been robbed, he quite forgot that he wore on his hand a ring set with a stone on which the head of the detested tyrant was cut. His fellow senator, Trebellius Maximus, remarking it, however, snatched it from his finger, and the stone was crushed to pieces.[223]

How common in ancient Rome was the use of a signet ring to seal up the provision rooms in a household, is shown by a passage in the “Casina” of the comic poet Plautus, written about 200 B.C., where Cleopatra on leaving her home to visit a neighbor, directs her slaves to seal these rooms and bring her ring back to her.[224]

Of the betrothal ring, Clemens Alexandrinus says that it was not given as an ornament, but for sealing objects in the conjugal domicile. As the husband’s signet ring was often used in a similar way, it was quite customary to bequeath it to a wife or a daughter. An example of this appears in the case of Emperor Aurelian (214–275 A.D.) who left his seal ring to his wife and daughter jointly, the Latin historian adding that in so doing he was acting “just like a private citizen.”[225]

A curious subject was chosen for his signet-ring by a native of Intercatia in Spain. His father had been killed in a single combat by the Roman leader Scipio Æmilius, and it was this scene that the son had engraved upon his ring. When Stilo Preconinus related this fact in Rome he laughingly demanded of his hearers what they supposed the Spaniard would have done if his father had killed Scipio instead of being killed by him.[226]

In the Roman world the custom of removing the rings in case of death is noted by Pliny, who says that they were taken from the fingers of those in the comatose state of the dying; the rings were often replaced after death.[227] An instance in point is noted by Suetonius, who reports that when Tiberius became unconscious, and was believed to be about to die, his seal ring was slipped from his finger, but on regaining consciousness the emperor demanded that it should be replaced.[228] To have a ring drop from the finger was regarded as a bad omen, and when an accident of this kind happened to Emperor Hadrian, he is said to have exclaimed: “This is a sign of death.” The ring which fell from his finger bore a gem engraved with his own image.

The elegy of Propertius (49–15? B.C.) on the “Shade of Cynthia,” gives proof that a valuable ring was often left on the hand of the corpse when it was burned on the funeral pyre. The Latin verses describing the apparition may be thus rendered in prose:[229]

“She still had the same eyes and hair as when on the funeral couch; but her garments had been burned away. The flame had destroyed the beryl which used to grace her finger, and the infernal stream had discolored her lips.”

The sense of intimate connection between a valued ring and the wearer, finds expression in Shakespeare’s lines (Cymbeline Act I, sc. 5):

And if we go back 2200 years to a far distant quarter of the globe we meet with the same feeling of intimate connection in the inspired words of the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah (xxii, 24):

The prophet Haggai (chap. ii, verse 23) uses the designation signet to indicate a specially chosen instrument, in the following words:

In that day, saith the Lord of hosts, will I take thee, O Zerubbabel, my servant, the son of Shealtiel, saith the Lord, and will make thee as a signet: for I have chosen thee, saith the Lord of hosts.

The Freemasons have adopted the signet of Zerubbabel as one of the symbols of the Royal Arch, the seventh masonic degree.[230]

The monogram of Christ appears on a signet made for a Christian lady of Roman times, Ælia Valeria. Of this sacred symbol St. John Chrysostom wrote that the Christians of his time always inscribed it at the beginning of their letters, and he gives as a reason for this that wherever the name of God appeared there was nothing but happiness. Undoubtedly the shape of the Greek X (Ch), forming part of this monogram, suggested a form of the cross, and gave an added significance to the monogram, especially in view of Chrysostom’s statement that the Christians of his time painted or engraved a cross on their houses and made the sign of the cross over their foreheads and their hearts.[231]

Clemens Alexandrinus in the second century tells us that men were required to wear the seal ring on the little finger, as worn in this way it would interfere least with the use of the hand, and would be best protected from injury and loss.[232] While, however, fashion must have dictated to a great extent the finger on which a seal ring was to be worn, we should bear in mind that any particular custom in this matter was not constant, and that individual preferences must often have determined the finger chosen to bear the seal ring. This diversity is attested by the differing statements of the old writers, as well as by the rare examples offered by ancient statues and paintings.

One of the rare ivory rings in the British Museum is a signet the bezel of which bears an engraved design of Christ on the Cross, with the Virgin and St. John on either side. The legend is the motto of Constantine the Great: In hoc signo vinces. The hoop of this ring, which was found in Suffolk, has been restored at the back. The figures are very rudely engraved for a production of the sixteenth century.[233]