Recurring to the ancient people whose sacred records gave us the earliest knowledge of the use of rings, we may profitably devote some attention to the very beautiful rings, formerly used by the Hebrews for betrothals and weddings. The Londesborough collection furnishes us with the two fine examples engraved in Figs. 152 and 153. They are often termed “tower rings,” from the figure of the sacred temple placed on their summit. In the first specimen it takes the form of a sexagonal building, with a domed roof of an Eastern character; in the second it is square, with a deeply pitched roof, having movable vanes at the angles, and is probably the work of some German goldsmith. Upon the roof of the first is inscribed in enamelled letters the best wish—“joy be with you”—that a newly-married couple would command. The same words are inscribed in more richly-designed letters on the curve of the second ring. Both are of gold, richly chased, enamelled, and enriched by filigree work, and are sufficiently stately for the most imposing ceremonial.

A third Hebrew ring of less striking appearance, but of equal or greater curiosity, is also engraved from the same rich collection, in Fig. 154. It bears on its surface a representation (in high relief) of the temptation of our first parents, who are surrounded by various animals, real and imaginary, their joint residents in Paradise. The workmanship of all these rings has been dated to the commencement of the sixteenth century.

We close our series with a wedding-ring, commemorative of a marriage which excited the marked attention of the entire Christian community, as a vigorous protest against monkery by that “solitary monk that moved the world”—Martin Luther. Renouncing the faith of Rome, he revoked his vow of celibacy, and completed his total severance from its creed by marrying a lady who had been once a nun, named Catharine Boren. The ring, here engraved, is that used on the occasion. It is of elaborate design and execution; a group of emblems of the Saviour’s Passion, the pillar, the scourge, the spear, and various other objects, combine with a representation of the Crucifixion, a small ruby being set in the centre of the ring above the head of the Saviour. We engrave this most interesting object of personal decoration as it appears to the eye, and also the full design in plano; beneath it are the names and date inscribed on the inside of the ring.

CHAPTER III.
MODERN RINGS.

The period known as mediæval commences with the fall of ancient Rome under the Gothic invasion, and concludes with the capture of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453. The modern era therefore commences in the middle of the fifteenth century, during the reign of Henry VI.

As private wealth increased, finger-rings became much more ornamental; to the art which the goldsmith and jeweller devoted to them, was added that of the engraver and enameller. Fig. 156, from the Londesborough collection, is decorated with floral ornament, engraved and filled with green and red enamel colours. The effect on the gold is extremely pleasing, having a certain quaint sumptuousness peculiarly its own. Fig. 157 is a fine specimen, from the same collection, of a signet-ring, bearing “a merchant’s mark” upon its face. These marks varied with every owner, and were as peculiar to himself as is the modern autograph; they were a combination of initials or letter-like devices, frequently surmounted by a cross, or a conventional sign, believed to represent the sails of a ship, in allusion to their trading vessels. The marks were placed upon the bales of merchandize, and were constantly used where the coat-armour or badge of persons entitled to bear arms would be placed. The authority vested in such merchants’ rings is curiously illustrated in one of the historical plays on the life and reign of Queen Elizabeth, written by Thomas Heywood, and to which he gave the quaint title, “If you know not me, you know nobody.” Sir Thomas Gresham, the great London merchant, is one of the principal characters, and in a scene where he is absent from home, and in sudden need of cash, he exclaims, “Here, John, take this seal-ring; bid Timothy presently send me a hundred pound.” John takes the ring to the trusty Timothy, saying, “Here’s his seal-ring; I hope a sufficient warrant.” To which Timothy replies, “Upon so good security, John, I’ll fit me to deliver it.” Another merchant, in the same play, is made to obtain his wants by similar means:—

“—— receive thou my seal-ring:
Bear it to my factor; bid him by that token
Sort thee out forty pounds’ worth of such wares
As thou shall think most beneficial.”

The custom must have been common to be thus used in dramatic scenes of real life, which the plainest audience would criticise. These plays were produced in 1606, and serve to show that the value attached to a seal-ring descended from very ancient to comparatively modern times.

In the Waterton collection is a massive gold signet-ring, with the rebus of the Wylmot family quaintly designed in the taste of the fourteenth century. In the centre is a tree; on one side of it the letters WY, and on the other OT. Supposing the tree to be an elm, the name reads Wy-elm-ot, or Wylmot.

In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries religious figures were frequently engraved on rings. Fig. 158 represents a ring upon which is very delicately engraved a representation of St. Christopher bearing the Saviour on his shoulder across an arm of the sea, in accordance with the old legendary history of this saint. The circle is formed by ten lozenges, each of which bears a letter of the inscription, de boen cuer. The figure of St. Christopher was used as an amulet against sudden death—particularly by drowning; for it was popularly believed that no sudden or violent death could occur to any person on any day when he had reverently looked upon this saint’s effigy. Hence it was not uncommon for charitable individuals to place such figures outside their houses, or paint them on the walls. There is a colossal figure (and St. Christopher was said to have been of gigantic stature), thus painted, beside the great gate of the ancient city of Treves, on the Moselle.

The enameller and engraver were both employed on the ring Fig. 159, also from the Londesborough collection. The hoop is richly decorated, with quaint floriated ornament cut upon its surface, and filled in with niello, then extensively used by goldsmiths in enriching their works, as it is still in Russia. This beautiful ring is inscribed withinside with the motto mon cor plesor—“my heart’s delight”—and was doubtless a gage d’amour.

Of Elizabeth of England and Mary of Scotland, interesting mementoes are preserved in the shape of rings. Fig. 160 represents the gold signet-ring of Mary, now preserved in the British Museum. Upon the face is engraved the royal arms and supporters of Scotland, with the motto IN . DEFENS, and her initials M.R. But the most curious portion of the ring is the inner side of the seal, as shown in the cut, where a crowned monogram is engraved, which might have been an unsolved enigma, but for the existence in our State Paper Office of a letter written by Mary to Queen Elizabeth, in which she has drawn this identical monogram after signing her name. Sir Henry Ellis, who first traced out this curious history, says, “It is clearly formed of the letters M and A (for Mary and Albany), and gives countenance to the opinion that the written monogram was intended for Elizabeth and Burleigh to study; the subsequent creation of the title of Duke of Albany in Lord Darnley ultimately opening their eyes to the enigma.” Elizabeth’s intense dislike to the Darnley marriage is well known, as she endeavoured to force Mary into a match with one of her own favourites, the Earl of Leicester.

The Waterton collection boasts a gem of no inferior interest in connection with this unhappy marriage. It is the ring of Henry, Lord Darnley, husband to Mary Queen of Scots. On the bezel it bears the two initials M.H. united by a lover’s knot, and within the hoop the name engraved of HENRI . L . DARNLEY, and the year of the marriage, 1565. The cut, Fig. 161, shows the face of the ring with the initials; below is engraved a fac-simile of the interior of the ring as a plane surface.

Queen Elizabeth’s history, and that of her unfortunate favourite, the Earl of Essex, has a tragic story connected with a ring. The narrative is popularly known, and may be briefly told. It is said that the queen, at a time when she was most passionately attached to the earl, gave him a ring, with the assurance that she would pardon any fault with which he might be accused when he should return that pledge. Long after this, when he was condemned for treason, she expected to receive this token, and was prepared to have granted the promised pardon. It came not. The queen was confirmed in the belief that he had ceased to care for her, and pride and jealousy consigned him to the death of a traitor. But the earl had, in the last extremity of despair, entrusted the ring to the Countess of Nottingham, wife of the Lord High Admiral, an enemy to the unfortunate Essex, who forbade his wife to take any proceedings in the matter, but to conceal the trust entirely, and secrete the ring. When the countess lay upon her death-bed, she sent for her royal mistress, for the first time told her guilt, “and humbly implored mercy from God and forgiveness from her earthly sovereign, who did not only refuse to give it, but having shook her as she lay in bed, sent her, accompanied with most fearful curses, to a higher tribunal.” Such is the awful account of the scene by Francis Osborne. Dr. Birch says the words used by Elizabeth were, “God may forgive you, but I never can.” It was the death-blow to the proud old queen, whose regret for the death of Essex could not be quenched by her pride and belief in his ingratitude. A confirmed melancholy settled upon her; she died lonely and broken-hearted.

This ring is now in the possession of the Rev. Lord John Thynne, and three views of it are given in Figs. 162, 163, and 164. It is of gold, of extremely delicate workmanship throughout. A cameo head of the queen is cut on hard onyx and set as its central jewel; the execution of this head is of the highest order, and may possibly have been the work of Valerio Vincentino, an Italian artist who visited England and cut similar works for Elizabeth and Burleigh. It is one of the most minute but the most striking likenesses. The hoop of the ring is enriched with engraving, and the under surface decorated with floriated ornament, relieved by blue enamel. It has descended from Lady Frances Devereux, Essex’s daughter, in unbroken succession from mother and daughter, to the present possessor. Although the entire story has met with disbelievers, the most sceptical must allow that whether this be the ring or not, it is valuable as a work of art of the Elizabethan era.

A ring possessing even greater claim to notice, but depending for its appropriation on its own internal evidence, is the next on our list (Figs. 165 and 166). It purports to be the seal-ring of William Shakspere, and was found March 16, 1810, by a labourer’s wife, in the mill close adjoining Stratford-on-Avon churchyard. It passed into the possession of R. B. Wheler, Esq., the historian of the town; and his sister, at his death, presented it to the museum of Shaksperian relics formed in the birthplace of the poet. It is of gold, weighing 12 dwts.; having the initials W.S. braced together by a tasselled cord; the only other ornament upon the ring being a band of pellets and lines on the outer edge of the bezel.

Is it Shakspere’s? It is evidently a gentleman’s ring, and of the poet’s era. It is just such a ring as a man in his station would fittingly wear—gentlemanly, but not pretentious. There was but one other person in the small town of Stratford at that time to whom the same initials belonged. This was one William Smith, but his seal is attached to several documents preserved among the records of the corporation, and is totally different.136-* Mr. Halliwell, in his “Life of Shakspere,” observes that “little doubt can be entertained that this ring belonged to the poet, and it is probably the one he lost before his death, and was not to be found when his will was executed, the word hand being substituted for seal in the original copy of that document.”136-†

In the great poet’s will, five of his friends have bequests of memorial rings. Two are his townsmen, Hamlett Sadler and William Raynoldes, who each have twenty-six shillings and eightpence left them “to buy them ringes;” the other three being the actors (“my fellows,” as he affectionately terms them) John Heminge, Richard Burbage, and Henry Condell,137-* each of whom has a similar sum.

Rings were at this time an almost necessary part of the toilet of a gentleman; they indicated rank and character by their style or their devices. Hence the wills and inventories of the era abound with notices of rings, many persons wearing them in profusion, as may be seen in the portraits painted at this time. The Germans particularly delighted in them, and wore them upon many fingers, and upon different joints of the fingers, the forefinger especially; a custom still followed by their descendants. The ladies even wreathed them in the bands of their head-dresses. Rabelais speaks of the rings Gargantua wore because his father desired him to “renew that ancient mark of nobility.” On the forefinger of his left hand he had a gold ring, set with a large carbuncle; and on the middle finger one of mixed metal, then usually made by alchemists. On the middle finger of the right hand he had “a ring made spire-wise, wherein was set a perfect balew ruby, a pointed diamond, and a Physon emerald of inestimable value.”

Italy now furnished the most splendid and tasteful jewellery; the workmen of Venice exceeding all others. The Londesborough collection supplies us with a graceful example, Fig. 167. The claws support the setting of a sharply-pointed pyramidal diamond, such as was then coveted for writing on glass. It was with a similar ring Raleigh wrote the words on the window-pane—“Fain would I rise, but that I fear to fall”—to which Queen Elizabeth added, “If thy heart fail thee, do not rise at all;” an implied encouragement which led him on to fortune.

In Burgon’s life of Sir Thomas Gresham is engraved the wedding ring of that merchant-prince. “It opens horizontally, thus forming two rings, which are, nevertheless, linked together, and respectively inscribed on the inner side with a Scripture poesy. Quod Deus conjunxit is engraved on one half, and Homo non seperet on the other.” It is here copied, Fig. 168.

In Ben Jonson’s comedy, The Magnetic Lady, the parson compelled to form a hasty wedding asks—

“Have you a wedding ring?”

To which he receives as answer—

“Ay, and a poesy:
Annulus hic nobis, quod sic uterque, dabit.”

He at once exclaims—

“... Good!
This ring will give you what you both desire.
I’ll make the whole house chant it, and the parish.”

Such rings were known as Gemel or Gimmal rings, the word being derived from the Latin gemellus, twins. The two making one, and though separate, indivisible, peculiarly fitted them for wedding rings. Their structure will be best understood from the very fine specimen in the Londesborough collection, Fig. 169. The ring, as closed and worn on the finger, is shown in the uppermost figure (a). It is set with sapphire and amethyst, the elaborate and beautiful design enriched by coloured enamels. The lower figure shows the ring parted (b), displaying the inscription on the flat side of each section, which is also enriched by engraving and niello.

Dryden, in his play of Don Sebastian, describes such a ring:—

“A curious artist wrought them
With joints so close as not to be perceived;
Yet they are both each other’s counterpart.
(Her part had Juan inscribed, and his had Zaida:
You know those names were theirs), and in the midst
A heart divided in two halves was placed.
Now if the rivets of those Rings inclosed
Fit not each other, I have forged this lie:
But if they join, we must for ever part.”

A complete illustration of this passage of the poet is afforded in Fig. 170, from the same collection. It also illustrates Dr. Nares’s remark that “Gimmal rings, though originally double, were by a further refinement made triple, or even more complicated; yet the name remained unchanged.” So Herrick:—

“Thou sent’st to me a true love knot; but I
Return a ring of jimmals, to imply
Thy love had one knot, mine a triple tye.”

This ring (Fig. 170) is shown (a) as it appears when closed. It parts into three hoops, secured on a small pivot, as seen (b); the toothed edge of the central hoop forming an ornamental centre to the hoop of the ring, and having two hearts in the middle; a hand is affixed to the side of the upper and lower hoop; the fingers slightly raised, so that when the hoops are brought together, they link in each other, and close over the hearts, securing all firmly.

A mechanical ring of still greater mystic significance is shown, Fig. 171, and is one of the most curious of the Londesborough series. The outside of the hoop is perfectly plain, and is set with a ruby and amethyst. Upon pressing these stones, a spring opens, and discovers the surface covered with magical signs and names of spirits; among them Asmodiel, Nachiel, and Zamiel occur, a similar series occupying the interior of the hoop. Such a ring might be worn without suspicion of its true import, looking simplicity itself, but fraught with unholy meaning. It was probably constructed for some mystic philosopher, or student of the occult sciences, searching for the philosopher’s stone, the elixir of life, and the power given to man to control the unseen world of spirits.

We close our review of the art of ring-making in the sixteenth century with two very beautiful examples. Fig. 172, from the Londesborough collection, has a ruby in a very tall setting, enriched by enamel. The sides of the hoop are highly decorated with flowers and scroll ornament, also richly enamelled. The Waterton collection gives us Fig. 173, a gold enamelled ring, set with a large turquoise in the centre, and surrounded by six raised garnets. This ring is stated to have subsequently belonged to Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, whose cipher is upon it.

We must not, however, end this portion of our history without a reference to the simple, but most important, “plain gold ring” of matrimony. It was at this time almost universally inscribed with a “poesy” of one or two lines of rhyme. Two specimens are here engraved. Fig. 174 is formed like the badge of the Order of the Garter, with the buckle in front, and the motto of the order outside the hoop; withinside are the words “I’ll win and wear you.” The ordinary form of ring is shown in Fig. 175, and is inscribed “Let likinge laste.” They were invariably inscribed withinside the hoop. Thus Lyly, in his “Euphues,” 1597, addressing the ladies, hopes they will favour his work, “writing their judgments as you do the poesies in your rings, which are always next to the finger, not to be seen of him that holdeth you by the hand, and yet known by you that wear them on your hands.” Such jingling rhymes were in great request, and exerted the ingenuity of poetasters and small wits. In 1624 a small collection of them was printed, with the quaint title, “Love’s Garland; or poesies for rings, handkerchiefs, and gloves, and such pretty tokens that lovers send their loves.” They are generally in double, seldom in triple lines of rhyme. The Rev. R. Brooke, of Gateforth House, Selby, has presented a curious collection of such rings to the South Kensington Museum. The six following poesies are selected from this series, as they are good examples of the average inspirations of ring-poets:—

“Seithe God hath wrought this choice in thee,
So frame thyselfe to comfourth mee.”

“United hearts death only parts.”

“Let us share in joy and care.”

“A faithfull wife preserveth life.”

“As God decreed, so we agreed.”

“Love and live happily.”

The custom of thus inscribing rings continued until the middle of the last century. There is a story told of Dr. John Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln, in 1753, that he inscribed his fourth wife’s ring with these words:—

“If I survive
I’ll make them five.”

Horace Walpole says—“My Lady Rochford desired me t’other day to give her a motto for a ruby ring,” so that at that time poesies were not confined to wedding rings.

Allusion has already been made in Chapter I. to the custom of using rings as receptacles for relics or poisons. The most famed belonged to Cæsar Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI., both adepts in poisoning; a grasp from the hand wearing this ring ensured a very slow, but certain death: it contained a virulent poison, which found vent through a small spike, pressed out by a spring when the hand was grasped, and which was so slight in its operation as to be scarcely felt, and not usually noticed by the person wounded during the excitement of the hearty friendship so well simulated. When conspiracies against the life of William of Orange were rife under the influence of the court of Spain [circa 1582], the unworthy son of Count Egmont “had himself undertaken to destroy the prince at his own table by means of poison which he kept concealed in a ring. Saint Aldegonde (his friend and counsellor) was to have been taken off in the same way, and a hollow ring filled with poison is said to have been found in Egmont’s lodgings.”144-*

Fig. 176 represents a curious Venetian ring, the bezel formed like a box to contain relics. The face of the ring (in this instance the cover of the box) has a representation of St. Mark seated, holding his gospel, and giving the benediction. The spaces between this figure and the oval border are perforated, so that the interior of the box is visible, and the relic enshrined might be seen. Fig. 177 is another ring of the same construction: it is richly engraved and set with two rubies and a pyramidal diamond; the collet securing the latter stone opens with a spring, and exhibits a somewhat large receptacle for such virulent poisons as were concocted by Italian chemists in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

The elaborate character of design adopted at this time for Venetian rings, the highly artistic taste that governed it, as well as the beauty of the stones employed in settings, combined to perfect bijouterie that has never been surpassed. Fig. 178 is a ring of very peculiar design. It is set with three stones in raised bezels; to their bases are affixed, by a swivel, gold pendent ornaments, each set with a garnet; as the hand moves these pendants fall about the finger, the stones glittering in the movement. This fashion was evidently borrowed from the East, where people delight in pendent ornaments, and even affix them to articles of utility. Fig. 179 is a ring of silver, of East Indian workmanship, discovered in the ruins of one of their most ancient temples; to its centre are affixed bunches of pear-shaped hollow drops of silver, which jingle with a soft low note as the hand moves.

We have already alluded to the old Eastern tale of “The Fish and the Ring,” invented some thousands of years since. It has survived to our own day, and is still related and believed by the commonalty to the east of London. In the church at Stepney is a tomb to the memory of Lady Rebecca Berry, who died 1696, in whose coat-of-arms a fish and an annulet appear. She has hence been supposed the heroine of a once popular ballad, the scene of which is laid in Yorkshire; it is entitled, “The Cruel Knight, or Fortunate Farmer’s Daughter,” and narrates how one of knightly rank in passing a village heard the cry of a woman in travail, and was told by a witch that he was pre-doomed to marry that girl on her arrival at womanhood. The knight in deep disgust draws a ring from his finger, and casting it into a rapid river, vows he will never do so unless she can produce that ring. After many years a fish is brought to the farmer’s daughter to dress for dinner, and she finds the ring in its stomach, enabling her to win a titled husband, who no longer fights against his fate.

The civic arms of Glasgow exhibit a fish holding a ring in its mouth. This alludes to an incident in the life of St. Kentigern, patron of the See, as related in the “Acta Sanctorum.” The queen, who was his penitent, had formed an attachment to a soldier, and had given him a ring she had received from her husband. The king knew his ring, but abided his revenge, until one day discovering the soldier asleep by the banks of the Clyde, he took the ring from his finger and threw it in the stream. He then demanded of his queen a sight of his old love gift, a request she was utterly unable to comply with. In despair, she confessed all to St. Kentigern, vowing a purer life in future. The saint went to the river, caught a salmon, and took from its stomach the missing ring, which restored peace to all parties.147-*

The occurrence of the fish and ring in the arms of Glasgow and in the Stepney monument, is “confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ” of the truth of these stories, in the minds of the vulgar, who would regard scepticism in the same light as religious infidelity.

Memorial rings were sometimes made to exhibit a small portrait, and on some occasions to conceal one beneath the stone. Such is the ring, Fig. 180, from the Londesborough collection, which was made for some devoted adherent of King Charles I., when such devotion was dangerous. A table-cut diamond is set within an oval rim, acting as a lid to a small case opening by means of a spring, and revealing a portrait of Charles executed in enamel. The face of the ring, its back, and side portions of the shank, are decorated with engraved scroll-work, filled in with black enamel. “Relics” of this kind are consecrated by much higher associations than what the mere crust of time bestows upon them; and even were they not sufficiently old to excite the notice of the antiquary, they are well deserving of attention from their exhibiting “memorials of feelings which must ever command respect and admiration.” Horace Walpole had in the Strawberry Hill collection, “one of the only seven mourning rings given at the burial of Charles I. It has the king’s head in miniature behind a death’s head; between the letters C. R. the motto, ‘Prepared be to follow me.’”

A much more lugubrious memorial is presented from the same collection, Fig. 181. Two figures of skeletons surround the finger and support a small sarcophagus. The ring is of gold enamelled, the skeletons being made still more hideous by a covering of white enamel. The lid of the sarcophagus is also enamelled, with a Maltese cross in red, on a black ground studded with gilt hearts. This lid is made to slide off, and display a very minute skeleton lying within.

These doleful decorations first came into favour and fashion at the court of France, when Diana of Poictiers became the mistress of Henry II. At that time she was a widow, and in mourning; so black and white became fashionable colours: jewels were formed like funeral memorials; golden ornaments shaped like coffins, holding enamelled skeletons, hung from the neck; and watches made to fit in little silver skulls were attached to the waist.

In the Duke of Newcastle’s comedy, The Country Captain, 1649, a lady of title is told that when she resides in the country a great show of finger-rings will not be necessary: “Shew your white hand with but one diamond when you carve, and be not ashamed to wear your own wedding ringe with the old poesy.” That many rings were worn by persons of both sexes is clear from another passage in the same play, where a fop is described, “who makes his fingers like jewellers’ cards to set rings upon.”

The stock of rings described in the same author’s play, The Varietie, as the treasure of an old country lady, is amusingly indicative of past legacies or memorials, as well as of the tastes of the yeomanry: “A toad-stone, two Turkies (Turquoise), six thumb-rings, three alderman’s seals, five gemels, and foure death’s head.” The enumeration concludes with the uncomplimentary observation, “these are alehouse ornaments.”

These death’s-head rings were very commonly worn by the middle classes in the latter part of the sixteenth and the early part of the seventeenth centuries; particularly by such as affected a respectable gravity. Luther used to wear a gold ring, with a small death’s head in enamel, and these words, “Mori sæpe cogita” (Think oft on death); round the setting was engraved “O mors, ero mors tua” (Death, I will be thy death). This ring is preserved at Dresden. Shakspere, in his Love’s Labour’s Lost (Act V. scene 2), makes his jesting courtier, Biron, compare the countenance of Holophernes to “a death’s face in a ring.” We have already adverted to a similar ring worn by one of Shakspere’s fellow townsmen.

In the “Recueil des Ouvrages d’Orfeverie,” by Gilles l’Egaré, published in the early part of the reign of Louis XIV., is an unusually good design for one of these rings, which we copy, Fig. 182. It is entirely composed of mortuary emblems, on a ground of black enamel. Fig. 183 is an English memorial ring set with stones; on the circlet is engraved an elongated skeleton, with crossbones above the skull, and a spade and pick-axe at the feet; the ground is black enamel. It has been converted into a memorial by its original purchaser, who caused to be engraved withinside the hoop, “C.R., Jan. 30, 1649, Martyr.” It is now in the Londesborough collection, from whence we obtain Fig. 184, a very good specimen of a mourning ring of the early part of the last century, with which we take leave of this branch of the subject.

The jewellers of the last century do not seem to have bestowed the same attention on design as their predecessors did. Rings appear to have reached their highest excellence in design and execution in the ateliers of Venice. We meet with little originality of conception, and certainly great inferiority of execution, in the works then issued. In southern Europe, where jewellery is deemed almost a necessary of life, and the poorest will wear it in profusion, though only made of copper, greater scope was given to invention. Fig. 185 is a Spanish silver ring of the early part of the century. In its centre it has a heart, winged and crowned; the heart is transfixed by an arrow, but surrounded by flowers. It is possibly a religious emblem. Fig. 186 is another Spanish ring of more modern manufacture, but of very light and elegant design. The flowers are formed of rubies and diamonds, and the effect is extremely pleasing.

Such works may have originated the “giardinetti” rings, of which a good collection of specimens may be seen in the South Kensington Museum, two being here copied in Figs. 187 and 188. They are there described as English works of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and appear to have been used as guards, or “keepers,” to the wedding-ring. They are of pleasing floriated design, and of very delicate execution. Much taste may be exhibited in the selection of coloured stones for the flowers of such rings, which are certainly a great ornament to the hand.

Recurring to the Eastern nations, in whose eyes jewellery has always found great favour, we find that the Indians prefer rings with large floriated faces, spreading over three fingers like a shield. When made for the wealthy in massive gold, the flower leaves are of cut jewels, but the humbler classes, who equally love display, are content with them in cast silver. Such a ring is engraved, Fig. 189, from an original in the British Museum, from whence we also obtain the two specimens of rings beside it, being such as are worn by the humblest classes. Fig. 190 is of brass, Fig. 191 of silver, the latter boasting a sort of apology for a jewelled centre.

A triplicate of Moorish rings will enable us to understand their peculiarities. Fig. 192 has a large circular face, composed of a cluster of small bosses, set with five circular turquoise, and four rubies; the centre being a turquoise, with a ruby and turquoise alternating round it. The ring is of silver. It is in the Londesborough collection, as also is Fig. 193, another silver ring set with an octangular bloodstone, with a circular turquoise on each side. Fig. 194 is a signet ring, bearing the name of its original owner engraved on a carnelian. This also is of silver.

The modern Egyptians indulge greatly in finger-rings. The wife of the poorest peasant will cover her hands with them, though they be only cast in pewter, decorated with gems of coloured glass, and not worth a penny each. For ladies of the higher class very pretty rings are designed. One of them is here engraved (Fig. 195), from an original purchased by the author in Cairo. It is a simple hoop of twisted gold, to which is appended a series of pendent ornaments, consisting of small beads of coral, and thin plates of gold, cut to represent the leaves of a plant. As the hand moves, these ornaments play about the finger, and a very brilliant effect might be produced if diamonds were used in the pendants. Fig. 196 is the ring commonly worn by the middle class Egyptian men. They are usually of silver, set with mineral stones, and are valued as the manufacture of the silversmiths of Mecca, that sacred city being supposed to exert a holy influence on all the works it originates.

There is also a curious ring, with a double “keeper,” worn by Egyptian men, as shown in Fig. 197. It is composed entirely of common cast silver, set with mineral stone. The lowermost keeper of twisted wire is first put on the finger, then follows the ring, the second keeper is then brought down upon it; the two being held by a brace which passes at the back of the ring, and gives security to the whole.

At the commencement of the present century, “harlequin-rings” were fashionable in England. They were so called because set round with variously-coloured stones, in some way resembling the motley costume of harlequin. To these succeeded “regard-rings,” the stones selected so that the initial of the name of each spelt altogether the word regard, thus:—

• R—Ruby.
• E—Emerald.
• G—Garnet.
• A—Amethyst.
• R—Ruby.
• D—Diamond.

These pleasing and agreeable gages d’amitie originated with the French jewellers, and were soon made to spell proper names. Where precious stones could not be obtained with the necessary initial, mineral stones, such as lapis-lazuli, and verde antique, were pressed into the service. These rings are now occasionally made. Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales is said to possess one having the familiar name of the Prince, “Bertie,” spelt thus upon it.

With two specimens of modern French work we close our selection of designs. Fig. 198 is a signet ring, the face engraved with a coat-of-arms. At the sides two cupidons repose amid scroll-work partaking of the taste of the Renaissance. The same peculiarity influences the design of Fig. 199. Here a central arch of five stones, in separate settings, is held by the heads and outstretched wings of Chimeras, whose breasts are also jewelled. Both are excellent designs.