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Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Jewelers Of Renaissance

(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:

8. Rings Innumerable

Among the advantages possessed by rings of the Renaissance was the prodigious quantity of them that one could (and not infrequently did) wear all at the same time. Rings on all ten fingers, counting the thumbs, and three rings to a finger—as shown in a contemporary portrait—a display like that runs into numbers. Men as well as women loaded their hands with rings. There were rings for ‘every finger joint up to the very nail.’ In a luxury-loving age quantity was a most desirable asset. Perhaps the dandy stopped somewhere short of losing power to bend his fingers by reason of their ornaments, but extras could always be strung on his necklace, or fastened on his golden hatband or swung pendent from his sword hilt or find a place on a rosary tied to his forearm. There was always room for spare rings when space on fingers was pre-empted.

There were rings to be worn outside gloves and gloves slashed for the purpose of showing the jeweled rings worn under the glove. The list is interminable. It is impossible to bring all rings within definite limits of classification. Many of them overlapped and served two or more purposes.

The following classifications are loosely grouped for convenience of references, and therefore disclaim the too technical distinctions. We will consider rings under four headings:

- Ecclesiastical rings
- Curative rings
- Rings of romance and sentiment
- Fancy or gadget rings

- Ecclesiastical Rings
Members of the higher clergy, even as the Roman senators of classical times, wore rings as badges of office. A special type of ring was an essential accessory to the canonical vestments. But the rings of the clergy had also a symbolic significance according to the precious stones with which they were set. A sapphire, blue like the heavens, meant purity; a ruby, red like the rising sun, meant glory; an emerald, a green like the cool verdure of earth, meant tranquility; and the clear, limpid crystal meant simplicity. These rings were made especially for the individual who wore them, and when he died his ring was usually buried with him.

The sapphire had long been the gem assigned to cardinals, tradition having honored the sapphire as the stone on which was written the Law given to Moses. According to a decree issued by the Pope in the ninth century the cardinal wore his ring on the right hand, the hand which gave the blessing.

During great ceremonies, certain types of clerical rings were worn, not on the bare hand but over elaborate gloves which were themselves sometimes heavily bejeweled. These rings were large, though not as surprisingly large as the so-called ‘papal rings’ of the later Middle Ages, which were so massive that obviously they were never intended to be worn on the finger.

Papal rings have been found in various countries, but no record has been discovered which would explain their use. It has been surmised that they acted as credentials for a messenger when he was sent by the Pope to a king, and probably the weighty ring was worn suspended by a cord about the neck. This supposition has been arrived at from the fact that a papal ring often bore the combined arms of the Pope and the king, and although elaborately carved, the materials used had little intrinsic value. Often such rings were only gilded bronze and the ‘stone’ nothing but paste, or perhaps crystal set over colored foil. Its very lack of value ensured safe conduct for the papal ring on its various journeyings—such an intrinsically valueless jewel would be of small interest to any bandit even though the woods were full of these gentry.

Customs of the Church are not wont to change with the rapidity of secular customs. Rings worn as sacred emblems of the Church sometimes remain unchanged for centuries. A most interesting example is the Ring of the Fisherman, symbol of the Pope’s office as head of the Catholic Church. From medieval times, through the Renaissance and down to our own times the Fisherman’s Ring has survived the changing boundary lines both of land and of thought.

The ring is made of gold and engraved with a device of St Peter fishing from a boat. Every pope wears the Fisherman’s Ring; but although it is the same in form and meaning, it is not actually the same ring. At the death of a pope the ring of office is removed from his finger and later it is broken. A new Fisherman’s Ring is made for the new pope, the title which he chooses is engraved upon it, and it is then placed upon his finger during the coronation ceremonies.

To be worn by the layman, there was the ‘decade ring,’ which could be used in place of a rosary. It had ten round projecting knobs—equivalent to beads—and a crucifix or a Madonna, or sometimes the sacred monogram and three nails engraved on the bezel. An Ave was repeated as each knob was touched and a Pater Noster at the bezel.

Sometimes the religious ring was a reliquary. There is a record of a piece of the True Cross set in a ring, and also a ring containing a ‘relick of St Peter’s finger.’

A ring, by reason of its circular form, signifies eternity. Therefore it was considered best fitted of all jewelry to bear an emblem which should remind the wearer of the transitory nature of life and the necessity of being prepared for death. Many of the religious rings worn by the laity were intended as a none too gentle reminder that all is vanity. One of the most favored designs was a skull and crossbones with an inscription, such as ‘Behold-The-End,’ ‘Dye-To-Live,’ ‘Rather-Death-Than-Fals-Fayth,’ or some equally chilling admonition.

Represented in one form or another, this idea of remembering death in the midst of life can be traced back to the ancient Egyptians. In medieval England, under supervision of the Church, it was called to attention in the form of a morality play showing how death comes in contact with all classes of humanity from the Pope down. In Italy, painters and sculptors decorated church walls with the grim theme.

At first the various representations were grave and solemn, but later they assumed the nature of a dance in which Death led his reluctant victims to their inevitable fate—the sardonic danse macabre.

Toward the middle of the sixteenth century the warning memento mori took on the guise of a fashion, greatly stimulated by the favorite of Henry II of France, Diane de Poitiers. The lady, being a widow, wore black and white, and much of her jewelry bore symbols of death. The French court followed suit, and the gruesome style was set.

Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)

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