Henry VIII. has altered decidedly for the worse. This Bauderike, or
collar of rubies, was a famous jewel and one which appeared at all the
great pageants of the pleasure-loving king. It was entirely broken up by
Charles I. and sold to raise funds for his army. We are disposed to
conjecture that it included our Ruby either as pendant or other portion
of the collar. It was worn at the Field of the Cloth of Gold where Henry
and Francis I. outdid each other in splendor. Notwithstanding all this
display of gold and jewels, they were but half civilized at the court of
Henry, as the following quaint incident proves. At a certain splendid
pageant the King and some of his nobles attired themselves in fanciful
costumes upon which their chosen names such as "True-Love," "Good Cheer"
and the like were written in large letters of bullion. After the mask
the King intimated that the court-ladies might take for keep-sakes those
gold letters, and they, delighted, proceeded instantly to snatch them
from the dress of the King and his courtiers. The crowd which was
witnessing this show from afar rushed in to share the spoil, and in a
twinkling had stripped the King to his jerkin and hose; they then
attacked the Queen and her ladies and "worse would have befallen" if the
royal guards had not opportunely arrived and driven off these grabbing
subjects.
Henry's daughter, Elizabeth, was even more extravagantly fond of jewels
than he was himself. The numerous well-known pictures of the queen are
more especially portraitures of Her Highness's dresses and jewels than
anything else. Elizabeth did not set the Ruby away in her state-crown
but kept it by her, no doubt for the frequent bedecking of her royal
person.
She showed it upon one occasion to the Scotch envoy, Sir James Melville,
under circumstances of peculiar interest. It was in 1564 when Elizabeth
and Mary Stuart were both young women, the one comely, the other
beautiful, and both were eagerly sought by every unmarried prince in
Europe. Elizabeth had rejected all her offers. Mary had done the same.
The English queen was lavishing honors upon her handsome Master of the
Horse, Robert Dudley, and was generally understood to be preparing him
for a seat on the throne beside herself. At this juncture she astonished
the world by announcing that she had found a husband for Mary Stuart.
This husband was Robert Dudley. The Scottish queen was considerably
amazed at this proposal, and not a little annoyed at being offered for
her consort a subject of such mean descent as the handsome Robert.
However she did not say nay, and Melville was sent to London to
negotiate the marriage. He stayed nine days at the court of Elizabeth
and has given most vivid pictures of that great Queen. He found her
intensely jealous of Mary's superior personal attractions and pressed
the envoy hard to say which had the most beautiful hair. She also
resorted to a childish trick to show him how well she could play on the
virginals. She likewise danced for him, detaining him two whole days for
the purpose, and his comment upon this performance is historic: "I said,
'My queen danced not so high or disposedly as she did.'" All this and
much more the canny Scotsman tells us about what he saw and said and did
during his nine days visit.
One evening the Queen took him into her bed-chamber to show him some of
her most precious belongings. She first opened a lettroun (cabinet)
where he beheld a number of little pictures wrapped up in paper, with
its name on each one written by her own royal hand. The first one was
thus labelled: "My Lord's Picture." It was Leicester's portrait, and
Melville holding the candle begged to see it, but Elizabeth made
difficulties about it; then the envoy pressed her to let him carry it
back with him to show to his own queen, thinking apparently that the
sight of the handsome face would move her to the marriage more than all
political considerations. Elizabeth declared that she could not give it
up as she had but that one, upon which Melville retorted that she had
the original. "She shewed me a fair ruby, great like a racket-ball. I
desired she would either send it to my queen or the Earl of Leicester's
picture. She replied 'If Queen Mary would follow her counsels she would
get them both in time and all she had, but she would send a diamond as a
token by me.'" It was the Black Prince's Ruby for which the envoy
begged, but the poor Queen of Scots was fated never to get either the
jewel or the earl.
This ruby was pierced at the top with a small hole to enable it to be
worn suspended from the neck, a frequent occurrence with oriental gems
which are worn without setting. The hole is now filled up by a small
ruby, but this fact proves it to have been among the jewels with which
James I. adorned his state-crown. The Earl of Dorset made a careful
inventory of the royal treasures, which is signed by the King himself.
The description of the imperial crown, after reciting a bewildering
number of diamonds, pearls, rubies and sapphires, winds up thus: "and
uppon the topp a very greate ballace perced." This is manifestly the
ruby in whose fate we are concerned.
Charles I. seems to have used his father's crown at his own coronation
in 1626, a ceremony which was marked by two incidents afterwards found
to have been ominous. There being no purple velvet in London Charles
was robed in white velvet, which is an unlucky color it seems, and the
Queen, Henrietta Maria, a silly and obstinate girl, refused to be
crowned with him, owing to their religious differences. Fortunately the
great Ruby was not left in the jewel-house at the time of Charles'
execution, for had it been there we should have heard no more of it.
Every thing which was found there was either melted down or sold by
order of the Commonwealth. Amongst other things thus treated was the
gold filigree crown of Edward the Confessor, which was broken up and
sold for its weight of bullion. Such vandalism is almost enough to make
one a Jacobite.
With the return of the Stuarts the Ruby came back and ascended once more
to its proper place in the Crown of England. All the appliances of a
coronation had to be made anew for Charles II., so that the ceremony was
in consequence somewhat shorn of its impressiveness. Charles' crown was,
according to an old writer, "especially praiseworthy" for an enormous
emerald seven inches in circumference, a large pearl and a ruby set in
the middle of one of the crosses. This ruby although not particularized
is sure to be the one we have traced thus far. It is so very much larger
than any other ruby belonging to the Crown of England that whenever we
find a pre-eminently large one mentioned in English history we may
safely take it to be the Black Prince's Ruby. It could be mistaken for
no other stone by any one who had ever seen it. A shining ball of
blood-red fire slightly irregular in shape, "great like a racket-ball,"
is not so common an object that it could pass unnoticed by writers who
take it upon them to describe crowns and other royal ornaments.
During the reign of Charles II. the Crown of England had a narrow escape
of being stolen. This singular adventure happened as follows:
The Regalia then as now was kept in the Tower and was shown to visitors
as still is the case. The person in charge was an old man named Edwards
who was in the habit of locking himself in with his visitors when
showing the treasure. One day a gentleman, apparently a parson, and a
lady, apparently his wife, called and saw the crown which they
particularly admired, of course. The parson was Colonel Blood, a
notorious Irish desperado. The lady became suddenly faint and was
accommodated with a chair and other restoratives in the keeper's
sitting-room where quite a friendship was struck up. The _soi-disant_
parson cultivated the friendship assiduously, and finally proposed to
cement it by a marriage between his nephew, apparently a soldier, and
the daughter of the keeper. Blood came with the nephew who it is
needless to say was merely an accomplice, and another friend. They asked
to see the regalia and the unsuspecting old man led them into the strong
room and locked himself in as usual. The moment he had done so he was
set upon by the three ruffians, beaten, thrown down, gagged, stabbed in
the body and left for dead. Then they managed to force open the case
containing the Crown Jewels. Blood hid the crown under his cloak, the
other two took the scepter and the globe, and then they opened the door
intending to steal away. Just as they did so, young Edwards, a soldier,
who by a singular chance arrived at that moment from Flanders, entered.
In a moment after the Tower rang with the cry of "Treason! treason! the
crown is stolen!"
The young man gave chase, aided by the guard at the gate, and eventually
they succeeded in capturing Blood after a "robustious struggle" during
which some pearls and diamonds were knocked out of the crown.
"It was a gallant attempt for a crown," observed Blood, as they led him
to prison. He was condemned, but Charles pardoned him, and even admitted
him to favor, though Blood was a known ruffian who had nearly succeeded
in hanging the Duke of Ormonde on the public highway not long before. It
is suggested that he terrified the king into liking him owing to the
boast that he had five hundred friends who would do anything to avenge
his death. Blood was constantly seen at court and eventually he obtained
a pension of five hundred pounds a year, while poor old Edwards was
never recompensed and died in the greatest want and misery. Truly the
ways of princes are inscrutable!
James II. gave his whole soul to the glories of his coronation, reviving
ancient ceremonies and doing every thing with exactness, much in the
same way as did Charles X. of France, and they both succeeded in losing
the crowns thus elaborately set upon their heads. James used the crown
made for his brother Charles whose head was somewhat larger. The result
was what might have been expected--the crown did not fit, and was with
difficulty kept in its place. Indeed, it wabbled so much that Henry
Sidney put forth his hand to steady it saying: "This is not the first
time, Your Majesty, that my family have supported the crown."
James fled and the Ruby remained to greet William and Mary at their
double coronation, and then it descended peacefully to the House of
Brunswick, in whose service it has ever since remained.
The coronation of George IV. on July 19, 1821, was probably one of the
most gorgeous pageants of this century. The King spent an immense sum
upon his adornment ($1,190,000), and not only that, but he gave close
attention to the fashion of his clothes, spending days and weeks in
anxious consultation over the length, size, shape, and material of all
the garments that he was to wear.
At last, having got all ready to his perfect contentment, the trappings
were all brought to the palace, and the King dressed up one of his
servants in his own royal clothes and then put him through the paces of
a coronation while he looked critically on.
Public feeling was very much excited at the time over the divorce
proceeding between George IV. and his Queen, Caroline of Brunswick.
When, therefore, it became known that the Queen was not to be crowned
along with him, her partisans were very indignant. The King was in the
Abbey in the middle of the gorgeous ceremony when amid the frantic
cheers of the multitude Queen Caroline drove up to the entrance attended
by Lord Hood. The doorkeeper however refused her admittance, and after a
long parley the Queen was obliged to turn away. Meanwhile George IV. was
going through the fatiguing fooleries which he had insisted upon
reviving for his own glorification.
Six long hours the ceremony lasted, and as the day was very hot and the
King very fat, he spent most of the time wiping his streaming face with
dozens of pocket handkerchiefs which were constantly passed along to him
for that purpose.
[Illustration: THE CROWN OF ENGLAND.
(_By kind permission of Messrs. Cassell & Co._)]
The crown for this occasion was large, costly and very heavy. It weighed
nearly seven pounds and was made by Messrs. Rundell & Bridge. It was a
mass of precious stones. At the back of the lower band was a large
sapphire, one of the Stuart relics, and in front gleamed the fire-red
stone which had looked down in Agincourt from the helmet of Henry V.
The last coronation although it occurred half a century ago is familiar
to us owing to the revivifying process of the Queen's Jubilee. The
crown, which was also made by Messrs. Rundell & Bridge, is less heavy
than that of George IV. by three pounds and more. We will not enumerate
its thousands of diamonds, its hundreds of pearls, and its scores of
rubies and sapphires. The ornaments consist of fleur-de-lys and Maltese
crosses done in diamonds. In the center of the lower band of the crown
is placed the large sapphire already mentioned and just above it, in the
middle of a superb cross composed of seventy-five diamonds, gleams the
famous Ruby. It stands out in bold relief and the red flash of its rays
gives the needful touch of color to the sparkling mass of diamonds. The
French say that the crown is heavy and without elegance, being in short
altogether in the English taste. The criticism may be just, for it is
difficult to see how $5,638,000 worth of precious stones, exclusive of
the Ruby, could be packed on to the gear for the small head of a small
woman with any great attempt at elegance.
The Queen was crowned on June 25, 1838, and Dean Stanley tells of a
sudden ray of sunlight which streamed down upon the youthful sovereign
as she sat in the Coronation Chair with the crown upon her head,
producing an effect which was beautiful in the extreme. A Queen has
always been popular with the English, and we can well imagine the
enthusiasm which Victoria's girlish gracefulness must have aroused in
people who contrasted her with the heavy uninteresting kings who had
preceded her. This was the last great occasion upon which the Black
Prince's Ruby appeared before the nation whose sovereigns it had so long
adorned; and viewing the beneficent reign of the gracious lady whose
coronation it then attended we can only say we hope it may long continue
its uneventful existence at the top of the glittering pile in the
Wakefield Tower.
In October, 1841, the crown, and all that therein is, had a narrow
escape of perishing unromantically by fire. The Tower being then used as
a military storehouse the fire rapidly spread, and it was thought
advisable to remove the crown. The keys of the strong case where the
regalia is kept are in the hands of three different officials, all at a
distance. There was no time to be lost, as the place was getting very
hot, so police inspector Pierse with a crowbar burst through the iron
bars, forced himself in and handed out the precious articles whose value
is estimated at five millions of dollars. Soldiers and policemen ran
with the coronation baubles to a place of safety, and everything was
eventually saved, though not before Inspector Pierse had been well-nigh
roasted.
This is the last adventure that the Black Prince's Ruby has met with,
and when we last looked upon it peacefully glistening in the sunlight it
seemed hard to imagine that it had passed through so many dangers by
fire and sword and had looked down on so many great scenes of royal
splendor.
VIII.
THE SANCI.
The diamond which is known as "the Sanci," or, as it is sometimes
written, "Sancy," has been not inaptly termed a Sphinx among stones.
Until recently writers have been accustomed to begin the story of this
diamond with Charles the Bold Duke of Burgundy and, with numerous
variations of detail, to derive it from him.
Now Charles the Bold had three diamonds which were famous throughout
Europe as well for their size as for the fact that they were cut by a
European lapidary. Louis de Berquen, who flourished in the fifteenth
century, discovered by chance the true principle of diamond-cutting. He
rubbed two diamonds together and found that one would bite upon the
other, and that a high polish could thus be effected. The Duke confided
his three great diamonds to the hands of this cutter and was so
delighted with the result that he rewarded the clever lapidary with
three thousand ducats. Of the diamonds thus cut, one was presented to
Pope Sixtus IV. and another to Louis XI. of France. This latter diamond
was set heart-shaped in a ring between clasped hands, a symbol of truth
and faithfulness, and as such was a singularly inappropriate gift to one
of the most perfidious monarchs who ever sat on a throne.
The third stone the Duke kept for himself and wore it on his finger.
This is the one writers have been pleased to call the Sanci, but they
agree in no other detail of its history. The description of the
Sanci--an almond-shaped stone covered all over with facets--does not
agree with the description of the Duke's diamond; but this awkward fact
has been easily got over by not mentioning it. Still on making the Sanci
belong to Charles the Bold a history had to be furnished for it.
Accordingly we learn that it was lost at the battle of Morat in
1476--and also at Nancy in the following year; that it was found by a
Swiss soldier under a cart--and that it was taken from the frozen finger
of the corpse of Charles; that it was sold for two francs to a
priest--and that it was sold to a French nobleman; and so on through a
maze of absurdity and contradiction.
The diamond known as the Sanci and once an ornament of the crown of
France never belonged to Charles the Bold. It is an Indian-cut diamond,
and it was first brought to Western Europe in the reign of Henry III. of
France by his ambassador at Constantinople, the Seigneur de Sanci. This
person deserves a word or two.
Nicholas Harlay de Sanci was born in 1546 and filled many posts of
importance during the reigns of Henry III. and Henry IV. He was a
Huguenot, but being immensely wealthy he was held in favor even by the
son of Catherine de Medici. His magnificence and his jewels were the
admiration and envy of his contemporaries. He changed his religion
backward and forward three or four times and finally under Henry IV.
settled into Catholicism. For this reason, if for none other, he was
hated most cordially by Sully who mentions him with dislike in his
Memoirs. According to Sully he was clever but arrogant; not very
clear-headed for business, yet sometimes hit upon expedients which would
escape more phlegmatic minds. We shall see further on how this estimate
was borne out.
Henry III. in a state of chronic war and equally chronic poverty turned
in his distress to his wealthy subject, and de Sanci responded as a
wealthy and loyal subject should. The King needed troops to enable him
to cope with the League. They must be faithful--therefore they must be
Swiss, who would only come upon certain payment of their wages. In order
to raise the money for these troops de Sanci offered to pledge a great
diamond, worth twenty thousand crowns, which he had bought from the
Portuguese Pretender, Dom Antonio, who on flying from Lisbon had carried
off the crown jewels. The King gratefully accepted the offer and the
diamond was sent for. A trusty valet was the person deputed to carry the
precious freight, but the valet was waylaid and murdered.
Dismayed at the probable consequences of this disaster, the King roundly
abused de Sanci for having trusted his diamond to a servant, but the
latter persistently declared his belief that the diamond was not
irretrievably lost. After much difficulty and a considerable lapse of
time the body of the murdered valet was found, upon which de Sanci
ordered it to be dissected, when the missing diamond was discovered in
the body. This must have been one of those happy expedients which de
Sanci's ready wit enabled him to hit upon. Few "phlegmatic" people would
have thought of looking for a diamond in such a concealment in the days
when de Sanci lived.
In our enlightened times diamond-swallowing is largely practised by the
thieves who infest the mining regions of South Africa. The police
accordingly are supplied with emetics and purgatives as well as rifles
and ball cartridges. Quite recently a notorious thief was captured and
put under medical treatment. The first day's doctoring produced three
diamonds, the second brought to light eight more, and the third day gave
fourteen; and after all the debilitated patient triumphantly declared,
"There's plenty more to come, Baas."
It has been thought advisable to give in detail the story of de Sanci's
valet and the diamond because the adventure is usually attributed to the
diamond which forms the subject of this article. Upon careful
examination it has appeared to us probable that it really happened to
the diamond bought from Dom Antonio and that this diamond was a distinct
stone from the Sanci proper. Both gems however seem to have had the
same fortunes and their histories for a century and a half run in
parallel lines.
[Illustration: THE SANCI: TOP AND SIDE VIEWS.]
De Sanci, whose extravagance was unbounded, gradually became embarrassed
and from time to time no doubt disposed of his gems in order to raise
money. The date of the purchase of the Sanci is fixed about 1595, when
Elizabeth who was inordinately fond of jewels added it to the Crown of
England. In 1605, Sully received an order from Henry IV. to buy up all
the jewels of Monsieur de Sanci, whose affairs had come to a crisis.
Neither the Sanci nor the Portuguese diamond were among these valuables
thus bought in for Henry.
In the reign of James I. of England there appears amongst his Majesty's
personal jewels one of particular note called the "Portugal" whose name
does not appear in previous inventories of the English jewels, and this
we are inclined to believe was the diamond which de Sanci purchased from
Dom Antonio, and which had so many adventures. In the absence of direct
proof however this identification should be accepted only provisionally.
Shortly after his accession James caused a number of jewels to be reset,
and one ornament, known as the "Mirror of Great Britain," was considered
to be the master-piece.
It is thus described in the official inventory of 1605:
"A greate and riche jewell of golde, called the Myrror of Greate
Brytagne, contayninge one verie fayre table diamonde, one verie
fayre table rubye, twoe other lardge dyamondes cut lozengewyse, the
one of them called the stone of the letter H of Scotlande garnyshed
wyth small dyamondes, twoe rounde perles fixed, and one fayre
dyamonde cutt in fawcettes bought of Sancey."
That this was the diamond subsequently known as the Sanci there can be
no doubt. The description "cut in facets" almost establishes the fact
without the mention of the name of its recent owner.
The diamond called the "Stone of the letter H" belonged to Mary, Queen
of Scots, and was greatly valued by her. It was a present from Henry
VIII. to his sister Margaret on her marriage with James IV. of Scotland.
In her will the Queen of Scots bequeaths it to the Crown, declaring that
it should belong to the Queen's successors, but should not be alienated.
When in 1623 Charles, the Prince of Wales, went on his love-trip to
Madrid along with Buckingham to woo the Infanta, he had an enormous
amount of jewels sent out to him in order to make friends for himself at
court. As was already mentioned in the paper about the Pelegrina, these
magnificent gifts were valued at no less a figure than one and a half
millions of dollars. Buckingham, who did not lack for audacity, had the
impudence to write to King James asking for the "Portugal" itself; but
the over-indulgent monarch, though he scarcely ever refused anything to
his beloved favorite, did not comply with this request. The Spanish
marriage fell through, and Charles and Buckingham returned to England.
A couple of years afterwards, Charles being King, the stately Duke was
sent to Paris to bring back the king's bride, Henrietta. On this
occasion Buckingham seems to have exceeded himself in splendor. He was
provided, says Madame de Motteville, with all the diamonds of the Crown
and used them to deck himself. Possibly this may be merely an expression
to indicate the profusion of Buckingham's jewels, and diamonds should
not be read literally. Be this as it may, it is a fact that the Duke
appeared at a ball at the Louvre in a suit of uncut white velvet, sewn
all over with diamonds. These diamonds moreover, were sewn on very
loosely, so that whenever the wearer passed a group of ladies he
particularly wished to honor, he shook himself, and a few of the
diamonds fell off. This senseless extravagance was resorted to in
rivalry of the Duke of Chevreuse, the most profuse of the French nobles,
who at the ceremony of the betrothal had appeared in a suit embroidered
with pearls and diamonds, it being contrary to a sumptuary law to
embroider with gold or silver.