The parts nearest the collet are flat and resemble a triangle from which the summit has been cut. Its greatest singularity is an intaglio ploughed out of the material itself, representing the head of a young person. The two triangular portions which start from the table of the ring are filled with ornaments, also engraved hollow. Upon it is the word VIVAS or Mayest thou live.

§ 19. In the year 1845, an interesting ring was found at Sessa, (the Suessa Auruncorum of the ancients,) situate in the Terra de Livaro, Kingdom of Naples. We here give the original signet. A drawing of the same with its outer edge, which, as it will be seen, contained the name of an after owner and the outer ring, with its religious maxims along its edge, appears in the Archæological Journal.[363] The stone which forms the signet is of a deep-red color and, apparently, a species of agate. In the centre are engraved two right hands joined together, with the following letters above and below, C. C. P. S., I. P. D. Our cut is somewhat larger than the original. Judging from the workmanship of the signet, it is believed to have been executed in the period between the reigns of Severus and Constantine or, in other words, about the middle of the third century. The interpretation of these letters must be left to conjecture. It would appear, however, to have been regarded as an object of value or interest at a later period, when it was set in gold for the person whose name appears round the stone in capital letters, which are to be thus read:

On the outer side of the hoop of the ring are two other inscriptions, also in capital letters. The first reads:

And the second:

The workmanship of these inscriptions is exceedingly good and the letters well formed and sharply cut. It will be remarked that in the first legend on the hoop the letter T. in the word Imperat is omitted for want of space; and in the second, for the same reason, not only the final m, as usual, is twice suppressed, but the word est is given in the abbreviated form of e; several letters are joined together; the aspirate is omitted inhabitavit; and the letter n is made to serve for the final of in and the initial of nobis. As to the date of this ring, it may, very probably, be ascribed to the thirteenth century. There can be no doubt that the owner, Thomasius de Rogeriis, must have been a member of the Neapolitan family of Roggieri. The legend upon the ring, Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat, is found, also, in the series of Anglo-Gothic gold coins from the reign of Edward III. of England to that of Henry VI.

We have been favored with the perusal of a presentation copy of the article (in the Archæological Journal) and from it have taken the above explanation. This copy was sent by the possessor of the ring, George Borrett, of Southampton, England, Esquire, to Isaac E. Cotheal, of New-York, Esquire; and it has, interleaved, (with the addition of a wax impression,) the following MS. note: “The Abbé Farrari, a priest attached to the Church of Sta. Maria in Comedia, (also called the Bocci della Venite,) submitted it to some members of the Propaganda at Rome, 12th April, 1845, who described it as follows: Christus vincit, Christus regnat, Christus imperat, et verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis. Sigillum Thomasii de Rogeriis de Suessa: Christ conquers, Christ reigns, Christ commands and the Word was made flesh and dwelt in us. The seal of Thomas de Rogeriis de Suessa.

“The veritable signet of Cicero (i. e.) the coral in the centre of the ring only. There were members of the Propaganda who thought it resembled some impressions attached to documents in the Vatican of the Roman Governor in Judea, ‘Pontius Pilate.’ The gold setting is supposed to be about the eighth or ninth century by some dignitary in triumph over the pagan philosopher or governor.”

Notwithstanding what is thus said, we are strongly under the impression that it was a mystical ring or one worn in remembrance of a marriage. Upon marbles and gems which illustrate the marriage ceremony, the bride and bridegroom are represented with their respective right hands joined. In Montfaucon[364] (and figured also in Maffei) is a gem which has marital symbols and among them a ring and the clasped right hands; and, in the same work, (Montfaucon,)[365] we find a ring precisely in the form and of the size of the Sessa ring, with right hands disposed in exactly the same manner and also letters above and below the emblem. The words there are:

PROTEROS
VGIAE

Proteros and Hygie; and Montfaucon says, “Cela marque peut être le mariage contracté entre les deux.”

Addison, in his Dialogue on Medals, says: “The two hands that join one another are emblems of Fidelity;” and he quotes (Ovid’s Met. lib. iv.):

“—— Inde Fides dextræque data.”

(Thence faith and the right hand joined.) And also Seneca (Hurc. Fur. lib. iv.):

(Let us unite souls, receive this pledge of faith, grasp the right hand.)

We can hardly imagine a more perfect token of love, affection or friendship than this of right hands clasped and the names of giver and receiver. We commend it to loving friends and jewellers.

This joining of right hands appears upon ancient English marriage-rings. Here is one, with its motto, The Nazarene:

A silver wedding-ring, dug up at Somerton Castle, Lincolnshire, has a poesy very common in former times:

There is a marriage gold ring of the time of Richard the Second of England, having a French motto, translated, Be of good heart, and bearing the figure of St. Catharine with her wheel, emblematical of good fortune, and St. Margaret, to whom Catholics address their devotions for safe delivery in childbirth.[367] The author has seen an old American ring, in the possession of a young man, whose grandfather presented it on his wedding day to his wife. It has a piece of jet set in it and is cut into raised angular facets. On the inside is engraved:

John Dunton, a London bookseller and who is mentioned in the Dunciad, describes, in his autobiography, his wedding-ring: as having two hearts united upon it and this poesy:

This would not seem to have attached to his second wife; for she left him and wrote in one of her letters, “I and all good people think you never married me for love, but for my money.”

Dr. John Thomas, who was Bishop of Lincoln in 1753, married four times. The motto or poesy on the wedding-ring at his fourth marriage was:

This Rev. Dr. John Thomas was a man of genial humor. He used to tell a story of his burying a body; and a woman came “and pulled me,” said he, “by the sleeve in the middle of the service. ‘Sir, sir, I want to speak to you.’ ‘Prythee,’ says I, ‘woman, wait till I have done.’ ‘No, sir, I must speak to you immediately.’ ‘Why then, what is the matter?’ ‘Why sir,’ says she, ‘you are burying a man who died of the small-pox next to my poor husband, who never had it.’”

§ 20. Heroes, philosophers, poets—indeed, men of all classes leave remembrances in the shape of rings. The will of Washington contains this: “To my sisters-in-law Hannah Washington and Mildred Washington, to my friends Eleanor Stuart, Hannah Washington of Fairfield and Elizabeth Washington of Hayfield, I give each a mourning ring of the value of one hundred dollars. These bequests are not made for the intrinsic value of them, but as mementoes of my esteem and regard.” Shakspeare bequeathes such tokens to several friends—among them, to his brother players, whom he calls “my poor fellows”—“twenty shillings eight pence apiece to buy them rings.” Pope bequeathed sums of five pounds to friends, who were to lay them out in rings. This great poet was no admirer of funerals that blackened all the way or of gorgeous tombs: “As to my body, my will is that it be buried near the monument of my dear parents at Twickenham, with the addition after the words filius fecit of these only, et sibi: Qui obiit anno 17—, ætatis—: and that it be carried to the grave by six of the poorest men of the parish, to each of whom I order a suit of gray coarse cloth as mourning.”

The affection which Dr. Johnson bore to the memory of his wife was a pretty point in his heavy character: “March 28, 1753. I kept this day as the anniversary of my Letty’s death, with prayer and tears in the morning. In the evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful.” Her wedding-ring, when she became his wife, was, after her death, preserved by him as long as he lived with an affectionate care in a little round wooden box and in the inside of which he pasted a slip of paper thus inscribed by him in fair characters:

“Eheu!
Eliz. Johnson
Nupta Jul. 9^o, 1736,
Mortua, eheu!
Mart. 17^o, 1752.”[368]

Husbands can love, where friends may see nothing to admire: Mrs. Johnson has been summed up as “perpetual illness and perpetual opium.”[369]

Lord Eldon wore a mourning ring for his wife. In his will we find this: “And I direct that I may be buried in the same tomb at Kingston in which my most beloved wife is buried and as near to her remains as possible; and I desire that the ring which I wear on my finger may be put with my body into my coffin and be buried with me.”[370]

The last gift of Tom Moore’s mother to him was her wedding-ring: “Have been preparing my dear mother for my leaving her, now that I see her so much better. She is quite reconciled to my going; and said this morning, ‘Now, my dear Tom, don’t let yourself be again alarmed about me in this manner, nor hurried away from your house and business.’ She then said she must, before I left her this morning, give me her wedding-ring as her last gift; and, accordingly sending for the little trinket-box in which she kept it, she, herself, put the ring on my finger.”[371]

The poet Gray was the possessor of trinkets; and, perhaps, we may refer these to the “effeminacy” and “visible fastidiousness” mentioned in Temple’s Life, (adopted by Mason.) In his will, the poet gives an amount of stock to Richard Stonehewer, and adds: “and I beg his acceptance of one of my diamond rings,” while to Dr. Thomas Wharton he bequeaths £500—and, “I desire him also to accept of one of my diamond rings.” He bequeaths his watches, rings, etc., to his cousins Mary Antrobus and Dorothy Comyns, to be equally and amicably shared between them.

§ 21. On the 1st of March, 1854, the ship Powhattan sailed from Havre for New-York, with two hundred and fifty passengers. Not far from Barnegat Inlet she became a wreck, so complete that not a vestige of her reached land. The passengers were seen to cling to the bulwarks and, then, drop off by fifties; her captain, through his trumpet, could be heard to implore attention to them; while the sea crushed and dashed all to death on the fretted beach. The clothing of one of the victims, who was not more than twenty years of age, showed her to have belonged to the wealthy class of Germans. She was beautiful even as she lay in death dabbled with sea-weed and scum. Upon her fingers were two rings; one, plain and the other had a heart attached to it. They were marked P. S. and B. S. 1854. This we gather from a fleeting newspaper. While the mind sighs as it leaves the corpse to its shallow, seaside, foreign and premature grave, a curiosity is awakened by the rings and the attendant emblem. The date shows them to be very late gifts. Were these tokens of affection from brother and sister—for one heart might well do for both—and who placed them upon that now cold hand, then glowing with an affection that throbbed from under those rings? Or, was this young creature on her way to her youthful husband, who had come before and built up a home and whose betrothal was shown in the heart, while the plain ring had made them one before God and the church and who was watching for her and, in fancy, had, through day dreams and in night watching, fancied the vessel sweep into port and the hand, that lovingly wore his gifts, wave a recognition? It may be that father and mother were the donors, with a blessing and a prayer and the added almost certainty of thought that she who received with a last kiss, would long survive parents to reverence the tokens, hallow their memory and think of Fatherland! Oh, how much of fact, of poetry, of sadness may crowd around a little ring!!

§ 22. We can hardly meet with a prettier token and illustration of affection than is to be found upon an ancient silver ring. It has a pelican feeding three young ones from the life-current oozing out of her breast; with the words: Their Mother. There is but little doubt that this was one of three rings given by a mother to her three children. The pelican is made an emblem of charity; and Hackluyt, in his Voyages, speaks of the “Pellicane”—“which is fain to be the lovingst bird that is, which rather than her young should want, will spare her heart-blood.” In no form or fashion could a mother’s love have been more beautifully and permanently displayed—pure as the metal, perfect as the emblem. It makes us feel that love is indestructible; that it came from Heaven and returns thither. No matter what may have been the sorrows, the cares and the long-suffering of that mother; no matter though her heart dances no longer to the music of her children’s voices; no matter what were the earthly trials of those loved children; no matter though their home-nest has been torn down or that the snow of the world covers where the wings of the parent bird were spread; no matter though the grave has taken all, save this illustration of a divine emanation:—we feel that such love could not die and the throbbing from the poet’s soul comes upon our memory:

§ 23. This love between mother and child, from its undying purity, is always a pleasant thing to trace and to follow. In the Household Words,[373] a work in which there is more of usefulness, pleasure and beauty than in any other modern book, a ring plays a pretty part in a ballad of the youthful knight, Bran of Brittany. He was “wounded sore,” and “in a dungeon tower, helpless he wept in the foeman’s power.”

The ballad goes on to show how young Bran, from his bed, at morn, at noon, at vesper, asked the warder whether he saw a ship; and when, at last, the warder says he observes one, he couples it with the falsehood that the color of its flag is black.

The mother touches the strand; hears a death-bell; asks of a gray-haired man; speeds wildly to the tower:

The ballad then describes an oak, with lofty head, whereon the birds gather at night:

How this noble ballad would have stirred the hearts of the authors of “The Lay of the Last Minstrel” and of “Christabel”!

§ 24. Authors of fiction, from early times, have made use of rings for their scenes. Shakspeare not unfrequently introduces them; indeed the most interesting portion of Cymbeline is worked up through the wager of a ring as to the honor of the heroine. Imogen, in taking leave of Posthumus, says:

And he, then, exchanges for it, “a manacle of love,” a bracelet, placing it upon her arm, that “fairest prisoner.” Iachimo induced Posthumus to wager this ring, which he esteemed “more than the world enjoys”—but it is unnecessary to go further: for who has not read Shakspeare?

§ 25. Roman iron rings, wrought with much care and having precious stones, but minute enough for a child, have been found. One or two of them are mentioned and illustrated in Caylus,[375] who, no doubt rightly, considers they were intended for the finger of a domestic deity or household god.

The Romans clung to their home deities; and this is the best part of their character. One of the most beautiful of the antique draped figures, cut upon a signet, represents a woman contemplating a household god,[376] “a symbol of that domestic affection which the ancients, exalted almost blamelessly, into an object of divine homage.”[377]

It was on this particular gem that Croly wrote these charming lines:

Gifts of rings by lovers have always been common; but the intimate relation between husband and wife brings toils, duties and sacrifices which generally charm off ordinary love tokens. It is comforting, however, when the husband can look to the past, to the present, to the future with sentiments like those embraced in the following beautiful lines in connection with the gift of a ring:

“TO MRS. ——, WITH A RING.

And there is a charm and gentleness about the following lines which Dr. Drennan addressed to his wife, with a gift of a ring:

§ 26. There is an interesting story in the Gesta Romanorum[379] (indeed the whole work is full of pleasing matter) entitled the judgment of Solomon. It is often represented in that illumination which in the ancient manuscripts of the French translation of the Bible by Guiars des Moulins is prefixed to the Proverbs of Solomon, although the story itself does not occur in that Bible. It appears to have been a great favorite in the middle ages; and was often related from the pulpit. A king, in some domestic difference with his wife, had been told by her that one only of her three sons was a true offspring, but which of them was so she refused to discover. This gave him much uneasiness; and his death soon afterwards approaching, he called his children together; and declared, in the presence of witnesses, that he left a ring, which had very singular properties, to him that should be found to be his lawful son. On his death a dispute arose about the ring between the youths—and it was at length agreed to refer its decision to the King of Jerusalem. He immediately ordered that the dead body of the father should be taken up and tied to a tree; that each of the sons should shoot an arrow at it and that he who penetrated the deepest should have the ring. The eldest shot first and the arrow went far into the body; the second shot also and deeper than the other. The youngest son stood at a distance and wept bitterly; but the king said to him: “Young man, take your arrow and shoot as your brothers have done.” He answered, “Far be it from me to commit so great a crime. I would not for the whole world disfigure the body of my own father.” The king said: “Without doubt you are his son, and the others are changelings: to you, therefore, I adjudge the ring.”

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Here the author closes his “Dactylotheca” or casket of rings.

Metaphorically speaking, he fears it has been discovered that he does not wear a ring of power; and that no talismanic ring is in his possession. And it may be that some constrained position in which the writer has kept his readers, will allow them to desire the use of cramp rings for relief. If so, he would willingly “creep to cross” to succor them: provided the ending of this essay did not answer that purpose.

One thing the author will hope; and it is this: that his readers and he have fashioned the interesting token of friendship a gimmal ring; and if it be so, then they will pass from this work with the idea that they have one part of such ring, while the writer may proudly hold to the other, until some future essay shall bring author and friends and the twin hoops of the gimmal together again. With such a token upon his hand, he can waive a farewell.

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