By WILLIAM JONES, F.S.A.
There is a magic charm in the pearl that seems to have fascinated the
world in various countries. The modest splendor and purity of the jewel
made it the favorite of all others among the Orientals.[J] Chares, of
Mitylene, alludes to the Margaritæ necklaces as far more highly valued
by the Asiatics than those made of gold. The Romans went wild over
them, and of all the articles of luxury and ostentation known to them,
pearls appear to have been most esteemed. Pompey, as the richest spoils
of his victories in Asia, displayed in his procession into Rome, after
his triumph over the third continent, among his treasures, thirty-three
crowns made of pearls, a temple of the Muses with a dial on the top,
and a figure of himself, formed of the same materials. This roused
the ire of the stoic Pliny, but contributed to the popular passion
for obtaining these jewels. He remarks of Lollia Paulina (wife of the
Emperor Caligula) that she was covered with emeralds and pearls, strung
alternately, glittering all over her head, hair, bandeau, necklaces,
and fingers, valued at forty millions of sesterces (£400,000).
Servilia, the mother of the famous Brutus, received from Julius Cæsar a
pearl as a present which cost the donor £50,000. The celebrated pearls
of Cleopatra, worn as earrings, were valued at £161,457.
Some consider bdellium, which is mentioned in the Scriptures (Genesis
and Numbers), as a precious stone, and the Jewish rabbins, together
with some modern commentators, translate it by _pearl_, but it is more
than probable that the pearl was unknown in the time of Moses. Most
probably, the Hebrew _bedolach_ is the aromatic gum bdellium, which
issues from a tree growing in Arabia, Media, and the Indies.
According to the poetic Orientals, every year, on the sixteenth day of
the month of Nisan, the pearl-oysters rise to the sea and open their
shells, in order to receive the rain which falls at that time, and
the drops thus caught become pearls. On this belief the poet Sadi, in
his “Bostau,” has the following fable: “A drop of water fell one day
from a cloud into the sea. Ashamed and confused at finding itself in
such an immensity of water, it exclaimed, ‘What am I in comparison of
this vast ocean? My existence is less than nothing in this boundless
abyss!’ While it thus discoursed of itself, a pearl-shell received it
in its bosom, and fortune so favored it that it became a magnificent
and precious pearl, worthy of adorning the diadem of kings. Thus was
its humility the cause of its elevation, and by annihilating itself, it
merited exaltation.”
Moore alludes to this pretty fiction in one of his sweetest melodies:
“And precious the tear as that rain from the sky
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea.”
Sir Walter Scott, in the “Bridal of Triermain,” says:
“See these pearls that long have slept;
These were tears by Naiads wept.”
Lilly, in “Gallathea:”
“Is any cozen’d of a teare
Which (as a pearle) disdaine does weare?”
Shakspere (“Richard III.”):
“The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
Shall come again, transform’d to orient pearl,
Advantaging their loan with interest
Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.”
In Lee’s “Mithridates” we have:
“’Twould raise your pity, but to see the tears
Force through her snowy lids their melting course,
To lodge themselves on her red murmuring lips
That talk such mournful things; when straight a gale
Of startling sighs carry those pearls away,
As dews by winds are wafted from the flowers.”
Elena Piscopia (1684), of the Corraro family of Venice, had a medal
struck in her honor, on the reverse of which is an open shell,
receiving the drops of dew from heaven, which form into pearls: the
motto was _Rore divino_—by the divine dew.
Pearls have for ages been significant for tears. It is related that
Queen Margaret Tudor, consort of James IV. of Scotland, previous to the
battle of Flodden Field, had strong presentiments of the disastrous
issue of that conflict. One night she had fearful dreams, in which she
thought she saw her husband hurled down a great precipice and crushed
and mangled at the bottom. In another vision she thought, as she was
looking at her jewels, chains, and sparkling coronets of diamonds, they
suddenly turned into pearls, “which are the emblems of widowhood and
tears.”
A few nights before the assassination of Henry IV. of France, his queen
dreamed that all the jewels in her crown were changed into pearls, and
she was told that they were significant of tears.
Milton, in his “Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester,” says:
“And those pearls of dew she wears
Prove to be presaging tears.”
Similes of pearls and tears are frequent in our old writers. Thus
Shakspere in “Midsummer Night’s Dream:”
“And that same dew which sometimes on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty floweret’s eyes,
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.”
In “King John:”
“Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee;
Ay, with those crystal beads heaven shall be bribed
To do him justice and revenge on you.”
The metaphor is a favorite one with Lovelace:
“Lucasta wept, and still the bright
Enamor’d god of day,
With his soft handkerchief of light,
Kiss’d the wet pearls away.”