But in the wild whirl of revolution and insurrection, which form the
main staple of Indian history, many things get hopelessly mixed, and a
diamond might easily turn up unexpectedly and be quite unable to account
for itself. Baber goes on to relate that the great diamond--we will
antedate its name by two centuries and call it henceforward the
Koh-i-nûr--was valued by a competent judge of diamonds "at half the
daily expenditure of the whole world"--an expression which for
grandiloquent vagueness can scarcely be surpassed. Fortunately the same
competent judge had not the weighing of the stone, or we should be
befogged by some further Oriental hyperbole.
[Illustration: UPPER SURFACE. UNDER SURFACE.
KOH-I-NUR, AS RE-CUT.]
The emperor however says distinctly that the diamond weighed about eight
mishkals, which being interpreted means about one hundred and eighty-six
carats of our weight, or a little less than the Orloff and fifty carats
more than the Regent. It is mainly on the evidence of the weight thus
carefully recorded by Baber, that we identify the Koh-i-nûr, and can
trace its subsequent career. On its arrival in England its exact weight
was found to be one hundred and eighty-six and one-sixteenth carats,
which agrees with the figure given by Baber as afterwards computed by
dependable authorities. When we consider the extreme rarity of these
great diamonds, coupled with the fact that no two stones are of exactly
the same weight, we may feel pretty safe in concluding that Baber's
"famous diamond" and our Koh-i nûr are one and the same stone,
especially as henceforward its history is tolerably consecutive.
[Illustration: KOH-I-NUR, INDIAN CUT. (186 _carats_.)]
This magnificent gem the emperor gave to his beloved son Humayûn, who
had very dutifully offered it to his father as tribute. It is somewhat
painful to learn that Humayûn rewarded this generosity by base
ingratitude. The very next year we find Baber making this complaint:
"I received information that Humayûn had repaired to Delhi and had
there opened several houses which contained the treasure and had
taken possession by force of the contents. I certainly never
expected such conduct from him, and, being extremely hurt, I wrote
and sent to him some letters containing the severest reprehension."
It was surely not a comely action in the man who had received the
Koh-i-nûr as a gift from the hands of his father, to plunder that
father's treasure houses. Baber was at all events in full possession of
his health and power and was abundantly able to enforce the obedience of
his son. He again admitted Humayûn into favor, and four years later,
namely in 1530, we find this fondly-cherished son languishing in mortal
illness. The father was in despair, and sent him down the Ganges one
hundred miles to Agra in hopes of benefiting him, but apparently to no
purpose. A man of great piety was appealed to for his opinion, and he
declared that in such cases the Almighty sometimes deigned to receive a
man's most valuable possession as a ransom for the life of his friend.
Baber declared, that next to the life of Humayûn, his own was what he
held most precious in the world, and that he would offer it up as a
sacrifice. His courtiers, aghast at the purport of such a vow, begged
him to offer up instead "that great diamond taken at Agra," and reputed
to be the most valuable thing on earth.
But the Koh-i-nûr, almost priceless as it was, Baber esteemed at a lower
figure than his own existence. The self-devoted emperor walked thrice
around the bed of his son, saying aloud: "I have borne it away, I have
borne it away." Immediately thereafter he was observed to sink into
illness, while Humayûn as steadily regained his health. So all Eastern
historians of the time declare, devoutly believing in the miracle.
Perhaps we, more sceptical, may account for it by suggesting that both
men, father and son, were suffering from Indian fever, and that the
elder died, while the younger was able to live through it.
Humayûn must have retained possession of the Koh-i-nûr during his
adventurous life, for his son, the celebrated Akbar, appears to have
bequeathed it in turn to his son and successor, Jehangir. This Jehangir
was the most magnificent of all the Mogul emperors, or indeed it might
be safely added of all the emperors of the world. He was a great admirer
of diamonds of which he possessed a vast quantity. He must have
inherited an immense number of jewels from his father Akbar, for in his
memoirs he describes his crown, which he valued at a sum equivalent to
ten millions of dollars, and which was composed exclusively of the
diamonds and other jewels which Akbar had purchased.
This seems to establish the fact that the Koh-i-nûr was not incorporated
in the imperial crown. It may possibly have been one of those
magnificent diamonds which he used so lavishly in the adornment of his
renowned peacock throne, the value of which amounted, according to his
own estimate, to the unheard-of figure of forty millions of dollars.
Some writers indeed go so far as to assert that the Koh-i-nûr was one of
the eyes of that stupendous peacock, which was entirely composed of
precious stones, and whose out-spread tail overshadowed the throne of
the Moguls. According to them, too, the Orloff diamond was the other
eye. But this is clearly a mistake; we have already seen where the
Orloff came from--a thousand miles and more from Delhi.
It seems most probable that the peerless stone was worn as a personal
ornament. There is extant an interesting contemporary print, which
represents Jehangir decked out with a profusion of large pearls, in
addition to which he wears around his neck a long string of various
jewels. In the center of this chain hangs one stone of such exceptional
size that it may well be the Koh-i-nûr. This however is only
conjectural. Terry, the author of the print, chaplain to Sir Thomas Roe,
who was sent on an embassy from James I. to the Grand Mogul, does not
mention the Koh-i-nûr by name. He merely observes that the Emperor was
in the habit of wearing around his neck "a string of all his best
jewels," and since the Koh-i-nûr was undoubtedly the finest diamond then
known, and was apparently in his possession, it is more than probable
that it would figure in the necklace.
Jehangir's empress was the celebrated Nûr Jehan (Light of the World), a
princess famous alike for her beauty and her wisdom. The emperor says in
his autobiography that she had the entire management of his household
and of his treasure, whether gold or jewels. He might have justly added
that she had the entire management of himself also, for he was
completely under her influence. This beautiful Light of the World must
have been uncommonly fond of jewels, as the emperor says that he had to
give her thirty-five millions of dollars at their marriage to buy the
needful jewels. Also Nûr Jehan is said to have invented the now
world-famous perfume, attar of roses. Toward the end of Jehangir's life
the Koh-i-nûr and all his other diamonds, we are told, ceased to charm,
and he no longer desired to possess them. Even of diamonds, it appears,
one may have a surfeit.
Shah Jehan, son of Jehangir, ascended the throne of India in 1627, and
was if possible more addicted to jewels than his father. He caused
basins of diamonds to be waved over his head in order to avert evil.
This sort of incantation seems to have failed of its purpose in his case
for he was dethroned and imprisoned by his rebellious son, Aurung-zeb,
who kept him in confinement during the last seven years of his life. His
diamonds and his daughter, Jihanira, were left with him to keep him
company and amuse him during these tedious years.
Aurung-zeb, who, for an Eastern potentate, was rather short of jewels,
sent one day to his father to get some of his diamonds in order to adorn
his turban which could boast of but one great ruby. The imprisoned Shah
Jehan exclaimed in his wrath that he would break all his gems to atoms
sooner than let his undutiful son touch one of them. He further
intimated that the hammers were kept in readiness for this purpose. His
daughter prevailed upon him to spare his glittering pebbles, and so the
Koh-i-nûr escaped an ignominious death.
The same princess offered a basin full of diamonds to Aurung-zeb when he
came to see her in her palace prison after the demise of their father,
and thus the Koh-i-nûr came to adorn the brow of another emperor. For
nearly a century after the Koh-i-nûr dwelt tranquilly in Delhi, adding
the lustre of its rays to the turbans of the Mogul empress until the
year 1739.
Mohammed Shah, a feeble irresolute man, was appointed by Fate to hold
the sceptre of India at the moment when she was to meet her fiercest
foe. Thamas Kouli Khan, better known as Nadir Shah, had raised himself
to the throne of Persia and, like all usurpers, felt the need of
strengthening himself at home by a successful foreign war. He
accordingly invaded India, at the head of a small force of hardy
fighters, who, in the words of Nadir's grandiloquent Persian biographer,
"threw the shadow of their sabers across the existence of their foes."
In short they killed all before them and entered the Punjaub early in
the year 1739, by pretty much the same route as that followed by Baber,
the ancestors of the Moguls. But the Moguls were changed since the days
of Baber. Mohammed Shah was completely defeated the moment he
encountered Nadir Shah.
However, booty, rather than territory, was the object of the invader, so
he did not dethrone Mohammed, but only levied tribute from him. The
defeated Mogul gave an unheard-of quantity of jewels to Nadir Shah "who
was at first reluctant to receive them, but at length consented to place
the seal of his acceptance upon the mirror of his request." Such
reluctance is very foreign to the generally rapacious and grasping
character of Nadir Shah, and probably existed only in the flowery
imagination of the writer of his life.
Having become aware that the Koh-i-nûr was not among the treasures he
had already sealed with his acceptance, Nadir Shah set about hunting for
it, and at last a traitor was found who betrayed the secret of its
hiding-place. A woman from the harem told the Persian king that the
coveted diamond lay hidden in the folds of Mohammed's turban, which he
never took off. Nadir accordingly one day invited his helpless friend,
Mohammed, to exchange turbans with him in sign of their everlasting
friendship. As in the time of the first free-will offering to Baber two
centuries before, the Koh-i-nûr was once again to pass from the
conquered to the conqueror, from the weak to the strong.
It is said that Nadir Shah, overjoyed at the beauty of the gem he had
thus cleverly filched from his ally, called it "Koh-i-nûr" (i.e. the
Rock of Light) the first time that he laid eyes upon it. If this is
really a fact it is very singular. It is indeed strange that Jehangir,
who was so fond of descriptive names compounded with Light, should have
left it to the enemy of his race to endow one of his favorite diamonds
with this poetical title. One would prefer to think that he had called
his diamond the Rock of Light just as he had called his wife the Light
of the World.
Upon the retreat of the conqueror the diamond was carried off with other
booty. The Koh-i-nûr therefore went from Delhi into Persia, and
eventually it descended to Shah Rokh, the hapless son of the mighty
Nadir Shah. But he who would wear the great diamond in peace must
himself be strong, and Shah Rokh was weak. The wretched prince was
unable to hold the throne, usurped by his father, against the
usurpations of his own lieutenants. In 1751 he was dethroned and his
eyes put out by Aga Mohammed, who endeavored by the most frightful
tortures to force him to give up his diamonds and other treasures. Shah
Rokh however, in spite of all, still retained the Koh-i-nûr and his
tormentor thereupon devised for him a diadem of boiling pitch and oil
which was placed on his unhappy head. But even this expedient failed to
make him give up his priceless gem.
A powerful neighbor, the lord of Kandahar, an old friend of his father,
now came to Shah Rokh's assistance, put his tormentor to death, and once
more placed the forlorn prince upon his tottering throne. In reward for
this timely service, the Persian gave to his deliver the Koh-i-nûr in
whose rays his sightless eyes could no longer rejoice. Shortly
afterwards he died from the effects of his injuries.
The Koh-i-nûr was now in Afghanistan, the birthplace of Baber, while
Baber's descendants on the throne of Delhi helplessly mourned its loss.
It went from father to son safely enough for two generations in the land
of the Afghans, and then its evil spell began to work once more.
In 1793, just after its rival, the Regent, had been lost and found in
the midst of the French Revolution, the Koh-i-nûr passed by inheritance
into the hands of Taimûr Shah, the king of Cabul. He left it along with
his crown and his kingdom to Raman Shah, his eldest son. Raman had
enjoyed the triple inheritance for only a few years when his brother
rose in arms against him, and being successful, as most rebels are in
Afghanistan, followed the old established etiquette of the Cabul royal
family:--the messengers of Shah Shuja, the triumphant rebel, met their
deposed sovereign on his way to the capital, and they put out his eyes
by piercing the eyeballs repeatedly with a lancet.
This done, Shah Shuja sat himself down to enjoy the sweets of Asiatic
power. The Koh-i-nûr was not immediately his, however, for it was some
time before it came to light, and then by the merest accident. An
officer, happening to scratch his finger against something that
protruded from the plaster in the walls of the prison of poor blinded
Shah Raman, turned to examine the cause of the wound. To his amazement
he discovered it to be the corner of the great diamond, which the
unlucky prisoner fancied he had securely hidden away. Shah Shuja wore
the Koh-i-nûr in a bracelet during the brief splendor of his reign, and
it was on his arm when English eyes first saw it.
Mountstuart Elphinstone, the pioneer of the weary throng of Englishmen
who have trod the road to Cabul, thus speaks of the Koh-i-nûr and its
possessor to whom he was accredited as ambassador in 1812:
"At first we thought the Afghan was clad in an armour of jewels,
but on closer inspection that appeared to be a mistake. His real
dress consisted of a green tunic with large flowers in gold and
precious stones over which were a large breast-plate of diamonds
shaped like two flattened fleurs-de-lis, and an ornament of the
same kind on each thigh; large emerald bracelets on the arms above
the elbows and many other jewels in different places. In one of
the bracelets was the Koh-i-nûr, known to be one of the largest
diamonds in the world. There were also some strings of very large
pearls put on like cross belts, only looser."
Shah Shuja met with the fate he had meted out to his elder brother, and
in his turn was blinded and dethroned by his younger brother, Shah
Mahmûd. The two blinded Shahs, united by a common misfortune, escaped
together over the border and were doubly welcome at the court of Runjeet
Singh, the fierce ruler, who goes by the name of the Lion of Lahore. The
unhappy brothers did not come empty handed. Shah Shuja had managed to
bring away with him an immense amount of jewels; hence the joy of
Runjeet Singh, who had a passion for diamonds.
On the second day after his entrance into Lahore, Shah Shuja was waited
upon by an emissary from Runjeet, who demanded the jewel in the name of
his master. The fugitive monarch asked for time to consider the request,
and hinted that after he had partaken of Runjeet's hospitality he might
be disposed to listen to his demands.
But the Lion of Lahore was in too great a hurry to lay his hands upon
Shuja's diamond to think of hospitality. On the contrary he treated the
Shah as a prisoner, separated him from his wife, and acted with extreme
harshness towards the latter. He even tried to starve the poor Begum
into giving up her diamonds. He fancied that he had succeeded, and, in
great delight, spread out before some knowing persons, the gems which
his cruelty had extorted from the luckless queen, asking them which was
the Koh-i-nûr. Great was Runjeet's disgust when he was told that the
famous diamond was not among the lot.
Shah Shuja speaking of the final transaction says:
"After a month passed in this manner confidential servants of
Runjeet at length waited on us and asked again for the Koh-i-nûr,
which we promised to deliver as soon as the treaty was agreed upon
between us."
A couple of days after this interchange of preliminaries, Runjeet
appeared in person, and was full of friendship and promises. He swore by
all manner of things to maintain inviolable a treaty to the following
effect:
"That he delivered over certain provinces to us and our heirs
forever, also offering assistance in troops and treasure for the
purpose of again recovering our throne. He then proposed himself
that we should exchange turbans (ominous precedent!) which among
the Sikhs is a pledge of eternal friendship, and we then gave up to
him the Koh-i-nûr diamond."
After which, let it be remarked, Runjeet broke all his promises.
The actual ceremonial of the delivering up of the Koh-i-nûr is
graphically described by an eye-witness of the scene, who says that the
behavior of Shah Shuja throughout the entire proceeding was dignified
and impressive.
On the appointed day (namely, June 1, 1813) the Rajah accompanied by
several experts--he was determined there should be no mistake this
time--proceeded to Shadera where Shuja was residing. The two potentates
sat in profound silence for one whole hour, neither being disposed to
speak first. Runjeet Singh was consumed with impatient desire to see the
Koh-i-nûr, so at length he hinted to an attendant, who in turn hinted to
Shah Shuja the purpose for which they were all thus solemnly assembled.
Shuja, silent still, nodded to a servant, who speedily placed upon the
carpet a small casket. Then again a tremendous silence ensued which
Runjeet bore as long as he could, and at last he nodded to a servant to
open the casket. The Koh-i-nûr lay revealed, and was recognized by the
experts as the true gem.
Runjeet, for the first time speaking, asked, "At what price do you value
it?"
Shuja, answering from out of his woeful knowledge, said: "At good luck;
for it has ever been the associate of him who has vanquished his foes."
Shah Shuja seemed to imagine the diamond to be a bearer of blessings.
This is the common belief in India with regard to large diamonds, which
are supposed to possess magic virtues; but Edwin Arnold, than whom there
exists no better authority about Indian legends, distinctly states that
according to a Hindoo tradition "a baleful influence" was ascribed to
the Koh-i-nûr. "The genii of the mines, as it declared, enviously
persecuted with misfortunes the successive holders of this treasure."
Rapidly glancing over the history which we know he draws the conclusion
that the tradition sprang up after the event.
To Runjeet Singh, at any rate, the Koh-i-nûr brought no misfortune. He
wore it as a bracelet and it glittered on the old king's arm at many a
Sikh durbar.
On his deathbed, the Brahmans who surrounded Runjeet tried to induce him
to offer up the great diamond to the image of Juggernaut. The covetous
priests were willing to run the risk of any amount of baleful
influences, provided they could secure the Koh-i-nûr as a forehead jewel
for their idol. Runjeet nodded his head, so the Brahmans averred; and on
the strength of this dubious testamentary bequest they claimed the
stone. The royal treasurer, however, less fearful of the wrath of the
god than of that of the succeeding rajah, refused to give it up.
Kurruck Singh wore this symbol of royalty for a brief space and then
died of poison to make way for a usurper, Shere Singh. This unlucky
monarch was killed in a durbar as he sat on his throne in Lahore, and
the Koh-i-nûr was flashing in his turban at the very moment when the
assassin aimed the treacherous shot.
And now, last of all the Indian owners of the wonderful gem, we come to
Dhuleep Singh, the infant son of Runjeet the Lion. It has been said that
the Koh-i-nûr belonged ever to the strong; it was scarcely probable
therefore that it would remain for any length of time in the feeble
grasp of this child. Indeed, his elevation upon the throne of Lahore was
a signal for all sorts of intrigues and machinations on the part both of
those who were in power and wished to keep it, and of those who were out
of power but wished to acquire it.
In the midst of all this turmoil a new and hardier race appears upon the
scene. Lord Dalhousie annexes Lahore, and the English flag floats for
the first time over the Koh-i-nûr.
In March, 1849, the king of Lahore was formally deposed. The scene was
short and business-like, very different from the stately Oriental
silence between Runjeet Singh and Shah Shuja on the occasion of the last
change of allegiance made by the fickle diamond. A crowd of natives,
without arms or jewels, a few English officers, a man reading the
proclamation in Hindustani, Persian and English, the boy-king affixing
his seal to the paper with careless haste--that was all. The ancient
kingdom of the Five Rivers ceased to exist, and its last king became an
English gentleman with a large income.
As a token of his submission, the deposed prince was to send the
Koh-i-nûr to the Queen of England. This was accordingly done, and the
imperial gem of India passed to the crown of England, thus once more
vindicating its traditionary character. Again it has passed from the
weak to the strong, from the conquered to the conqueror, but we may hope
that it has left behind it in India all those baleful influences with
which it has been credited.
When it came to England in 1850 the Koh-i-nûr was distinctly an Indian
stone. It had a large flat top, irregular sides, and a multitude of tiny
facets, besides which there were three distinct flaws. It was, moreover,
lacking in light; being scarcely more brilliant than a piece of gray
crystal.
Yet, notwithstanding all these defects, it was a deplorable want of
taste and of historic sympathy which dictated the re-cutting of this
unique gem. Professor King, an unimpeachable authority on diamonds and
the proper mode of treating them, says with reference to this stone:
"As a specimen of a gigantic diamond whose native weight and form
had been as little as possible interfered with by art, it stood
without rival, save the Orloff, in Europe. As it is, in the place
of the most ancient gem in the history of the world, older even
than the Tables of the Law, and the Breast Plate of Aaron,
supposing them still to exist, we get a bad shaped, because
unavoidably too shallow, modern brilliant; a mere lady's bauble
of but second water, for it has a greyish tinge, and besides this,
inferior in weight to several, being now reduced to one hundred
and two and one half carats."
The operation of re-cutting the Koh-i-nûr was a very delicate and
dangerous one. A special engine and mill had to be erected for it and a
special workman, Mr. Woorsanger, was brought for it from Amsterdam. The
work was executed in the atelier of the Crown Jewels and superintended
by the Garrard brothers. Much interest was excited by the process and
many people of distinction visited the workshop. One of these visitors
asked Mr. Garrard what he would do, supposing that the Koh-i-nûr should
fly to pieces during the cutting--a contingency that some had feared
likely. Mr. Garrard answered: "I would take my name-plate off the door
and bolt."
The Prince Consort placed the diamond on the mill, and the Duke of
Wellington gave a turn to the wheel. Thus launched, the work went on
steadily, and at the end of thirty-eight days Mr. Woorsanger handed the
new brilliant to his superiors.
The cutting of the Regent took two years by the old handmill process,
and it had no deep flaws to eradicate, as was the case with the
Koh-i-nûr. To grind out these flaws the wheel made no less than three
thousand revolutions per minute.