I have spent the week reading a doctoral thesis, a task from which almost anything could distract me, even the extreme ineptitude of the madly obscure and oddly named C.Thimelthorpe, who in 1581 published what he himself describes as a ‘hotpotch’ (and even this is perhaps immodest), to which he gave the floundering title, A short inventory of certayne idle inventions the fruites of a close and secret garden of great ease, and litle pleasure.
It mainly consists of a dialogue between Idleness, and a Student (the idea is more winning than its execution), introduced like this:
“The friendly greeting and comminge together betweene Idlenes, & a student
The godly & wel disposed man, satlinge hymselfe both in body and mynd, (bowing as faithfully the knees of his hart, as many do faynedly in most dissemblyinge manner the knees of their outward bodyes) unto his devoute meditations, & prayers, is very sensibly to his feeling as he certaynlye thinkes, pulled oftentimes by the head oftimes by the legg, and some tyme by other parts of the body…”
I doubt that Thimelthorpe really meant the innuendo, as he isn’t that sharp. Such talents as he was persuaded he had also extended to versing, and here he is on the subject of ring wearing. He can’t quite make his mind up whether it’s a good or bad thing, but as (to his regret) every man wears rings, he is eager to propound a small restoration of social distinction, by laying down some rules about what finger it is proper to wear a ring upon, according to your status:
For wearing of rings
For that it is a proverbe olde,
the winners may best weare the gold
We knubby knuckles rusty rough
do see more fit to lead the plough,
Which fond to see their fingers shine,
in steede of fatt, with golden mine
~
But wisely wayed it is most vayne
and brings such thinges in great disdayne,
When ringes be knackes for every knave
for then no wiseman wil them crave
~
But were it trim to ring the nose
I thinke I might soone fynd out those
That would to please their dainty gyrles
rend that with ringe and pretious pearles
~
Disorder marreth every thinge
so doth miswearing of your ringe,
~
Cost is comly wher order is
good order therefore should not misse
And such as weare them as they ought
the worthier then shall they be thought
~
But some men thinke and so do I
that natures flesh when it is bare,
Without such pearles or paultery
if fayre, is fittest for the glare.
~
For when dame Venus plainly shows
her selfe in natures naked weed
Your eyes then flye not after crows,
but stayes to feede your wanton neede
~
To this the wisest men of all
as we see dayly they be thrall
~
But as for pearles, of precious stones
they passe not for they be but toyes
And gaudy geaugawes for the nones
which they accompt as childish joyes
~
But since they have bene greatly usd
though much perhappes by some abusd
It is not good to take awaye
such comly costly gold array
~
But who so useth it aright
reserves the thumbe as for the knight
And here in order as they lye
your finger rynges you may apply.
~
Miles, Marcator, Stultus, nuptie, & amator
~
To weare the ringe upon the thum is for the Knight
~
The forefinger for the Marchaunt.
~
The middle finger for the Foole
~
The third finger for the maried man
~
The little finger for the Lover
~~
My first image is Rogeir van der Weyden’s portrait of Francesco d’Este, of c.1460. The Web Gallery of Art commentary suggests that ‘the ring and hammer he holds may be emblems of office or tournament prizes’. That looks like a goldsmith’s hammer, type of tool wielded in Niklaus Manuel’s ‘St Eligius in the Workshop’. Francesco wears a ring on his little finger, and has a ruby set in a ring of gold to offer. He is half St Eligius, the saint who could fashion, and then scorn such worldly things, and half the wooer who has an ultimatum: ‘accept it this instant, or I put it under the hammer’.
The second is a composite of ringed fingers from Renaissance portraits (Weyden, Memling, Lotto), just for fun. Two more ring poems, both sexual, neither as good as Donne’s ‘A Jet Ring Sent’:
Richard Lovelace, from Lucasta
Depose your finger of that Ring,
And Crowne mine with't a while
Now I restor't---Pray do's it bring
Back with it more of soile?
Or shines it not as innocent,
As honest, as before 'twas lent?
So then inrich me with that Treasure,
Will but increase your store,
And please me (faire one) with that pleasure
Must please you still the more:
Not to save others is a curse
The blackest, when y'are ne're the worse.
Sir John Harington, ‘In Cornutum’ (1618)
What curld-pate youth is he that sitteth there
So neere thy wife, and whispers in her eare,
And takes her hand in his, and soft doth wring her,
Sliding his ring still vp and downe her finger?
Sir, tis a Proctor, seene in both the Lawes,
Retain'd by her, in some important cause;
Prompt and discreet both in his speech and action,
And doth her busines with great satisfaction.
And thinkest thou so? a horne-plague on thy head:
Art thou so like a foole, and wittoll led,
To thinke he doth the businesse of thy wife?
He doth thy businesse, I dare lay my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment