THE OPAL
THERE can be little doubt that much of the modern superstition regarding the supposed unlucky quality of the opal owes its origin to a careless reading of Sir Walter Scott’s novel, “Anne of Geierstein.”211 The wonderful tale therein related of the Lady Hermione, a sort of enchanted princess, who came no one knew whence and always wore a dazzling opal in her hair, contains nothing to indicate that Scott really meant to represent the opal as unlucky. Lady Hermione’s gem was an enchanted stone just as its owner was a product of enchantment, and its peculiarities depended entirely upon its mysterious character, which might equally well have been attributed to a diamond, a ruby, or a sapphire. The life of the stone was bound up with the life of Hermione; it sparkled when she was gay, it shot out red gleams when she was angry; and when a few drops of holy water were sprinkled over it, they quenched its radiance. Hermione fell into a swoon, was carried to her chamber, and the next day nothing but a small heap of ashes remained on the bed whereon she had been laid. The spell was broken and the enchantment dissolved. All that can have determined the selection of the opal rather than any other precious stone is the fact of its wonderful play of color and its sensitiveness to moisture. Hence we are perfectly justified in returning to the older belief of the manifold virtues of the opal, only remembering that this gem is a little more fragile than many others and should be more carefully handled and guarded.
The opal, October’s gem, recalls in its wonderful and varied play of color the glories of a bright October day in the country, when earth and sky vie with each other in brilliancy and the eye is fairly dazzled with the bewildering variety of color.
It rarely happens that Pliny gives any information as to particular jewels, almost all his notices of precious stones being confined to descriptions of their form and color, and data regarding what was popularly believed as to their talismanic or therapeutic power. In the case of the opalus, however, he writes as follows: “There exists to-day a gem of this kind, on account of which the senator Nonius was proscribed by Antony. Seeking safety in flight, he took with him of all his possessions this ring alone, which it is certain, was valued at 2,000,000 sesterces ($80,000).”212 The stone was “as large as a hazel-nut.”
This “opal of Nonius” would be the great historic opal if we had any assurance that it was really the stone to which we now give this name. As, however, the principal European source of supply in Hungary does not appear to have been available in classic times to the Romans, and as opals are not found in the places whence, according to Pliny, the opalus was derived, we are almost forced to the conclusion that he had some other stone in mind when he gave his eloquent description of the opalus. And yet, in spite of all this, Pliny’s words so well describe the beauties of a fine opal that it is difficult to determine what other stone he could have meant. For it can well be said of opals that “There is in them a softer fire than in the carbuncle, there is the brilliant purple of the amethyst; there is the sea-green of the emerald—all shining together in incredible union. Some by their refulgent splendor rival the colors of the painters, others the flame of burning sulphur or of fire quickened by oil.”213 Possibly some brilliant varieties of iridescent quartz—“iris” quartz, possessing an internal fracture, displays with great brilliancy all the colors of the rainbow, sparkling with wonderful clearness in its field of transparent mineral—might excite the admiration of one who had never seen an opal. Referring again to these quartz crystals, they are often cut so as to form a dome of quartz and are even used as distinct jewels. The fact that Pliny could praise the Indian imitations of the opalus in glass, and could state that this stone was more successfully imitated than any other, is an almost decisive argument against identifying the opalus with an opal, for it is well known that no stone is more difficult to imitate.
About the middle of the eighteenth century, a peasant found a brilliant precious stone in some old ruins at Alexandria, Egypt. This stone was set in a ring. It was as large as a hazel-nut and is said to have been an opal cut en cabochon. According to the report, it was eventually taken to Constantinople, where it was estimated to be worth “several thousand ducats.”214 The description given of this gem, its apparent antiquity, and the high value set upon it have contributed to induce many to conjecture that it was the celebrated “opal of Nonius.” Of course this was nothing but a romantic fancy. It is also quite certain that an opal would scarcely hold its play of color or compactness for twenty centuries, for most opals lose their water—slowly perhaps, but surely—within a lesser space of time. Even the finest Hungarian opals show some loss of life and color within a century or even less, and some transparent Mexican opals lose their color and are filled with flaws within a few years’ time.
The Edda tells of a sacred stone called the yarkastein, which the clever smith Volöndr (the Scandinavian Vulcan) formed from the eyes of children. Grimm conjectures that this name designates a round, milk-white opal. Certainly the opal was often called ophthalmios, or eyestone, in the Middle Ages, and it was a common idea that the image of a boy or girl could be seen in the pupil of the eye.
Albertus Magnus describes under the name orphanus a stone which was set in the imperial crown of the Holy Roman Empire. This gem is believed to have been a splendid opal, and Albertus describes it as follows:
The orphanus is a stone which is in the crown of the Roman Emperor, and none like it has ever been seen; for this very reason it is called orphanus. It is of a subtle vinous tinge, and its hue is as though pure white snow flashed and sparkled with the color of bright, ruddy wine, and was overcome by this radiance. It is a translucent stone, and there is a tradition that formerly it shone in the night-time; but now, in our age, it does not sparkle in the dark. It is said to guard the regal honor.215
Evidently this imperial gem was regarded as sui generis, for Albertus has just described the ophthalmus lapis, a name frequently bestowed upon the opal in medieval times, reciting the virtues usually ascribed to the opal for the cure of diseases of the eye, and the magic power of the stone to render its wearer invisible, wherefore it was denominated patronus furum, or “patron of thieves.”
In the Middle Ages the opal mines of Cernowitz, in Hungary, were very actively exploited, and at the opening of the fifteenth century more than three hundred men are said to have been employed here in the search for opals. At that time, and for many centuries after, no breath of suspicion ever tarnished the fame of the opal as not only a thing of rare beauty, but also a talisman of the first rank. We are told that blond maidens valued nothing more highly than necklaces of opals, for while they wore these ornaments their hair was sure to guard its beautiful color. The latter superstitions probably arose from the frangibility of the stone and its occasional loss of fire.
From the earliest times the baleful influence of the Evil Eye has struck terror into the souls of the ignorant and superstitious. It is believed by some that the name “opal”—written “ophal” in the time of Queen Elizabeth—was derived from ophthalmos, the eye, or ophthalmius, pertaining to the eye, and that hence the foolish superstition regarding the ill luck of the opal had some connection with the belief in the Evil Eye. However, this is altogether incorrect, since the stone called ophthalmius by early writers, and which seems to have been the opalus of the ancients and our opal, was believed to have a wonderfully beneficial effect upon the sight, and if it was thought to render the wearer invisible, this was only an added virtue of the stone.
The eye-agates were sometimes used to form the eyes of idols. At a later period some of these “agate-eyes” were removed from the statues and cut with a glyptic subject on the lower side. Some of the most interesting antique gems are of this kind. In Aleppo (and elsewhere in the East) there is a certain type of sore known as the “Aleppo button” or “Aleppo boil.” The boil frequently does not appear for a long period after infection has taken place. It often appears as a swelling surrounded by a white ring, and there is a belief among the natives that there are “Aleppo stones,” these being the so-called “eye-agates” frequently produced by cutting a three-layer, naturally pale yellow or pale gray agate, with intervening white zones in such a way that it looks like an eye or a double-eye, and such stones are used in alleviation of the Aleppo sore. What beneficial influence they may have is due to the fact that the agate is cold and furnishes a little relief for the time.
This “Aleppo boil” or “Oriental sore” so prevalent in many parts of western Asia, is produced, according to the best authorities, by a pathogenic organism Leishmania tropica (Wright) 1903. As to the means by which this organism is introduced into the human subject nothing very definite is known, but mosquitoes or Phlebotomus have been suggested as possible transmitting agencies.216
The eye of some invisible monster, the eye of the dragon, the eye of the serpent, were all regarded as possessed of malign power. It is well known that in the East Indies a peacock’s feather is thought to bring ill-luck, the eye in the feather being the baleful point. Even in our own time, and among those for whom this primitive superstition has no terrors, the humorous use of the idea—as shown, for instance, in the “Dick Dead-Eye” of Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Pinafore”—proves that the Evil Eye is familiar to our thoughts. For this reason, stones such as those which have been named the cat’s-eye, the tiger’s-eye, or the oculus Beli, always possess a certain strange interest.
One of the earliest descriptions of the opal in English is that written in the reign of Queen Elizabeth by Dr. Stephen Batman (d. 1584). While the passage is essentially a translation from the “De proprietatibus rerum,” of Bartolomæus Anglicus, the English version is interesting in itself as showing what was accepted by English readers of the time regarding the virtues of the opal. There is, of course, no trace of the foolish modern superstition touching the ominous quality of this beautiful gem. Batman writes:217
Optallio is called Oppalus also, and is a stone distinguished with colors of divers precious stones, as Isid. saith.... This stone breedeth onely in Inde and is deemed to have as many virtues, as hiewes and colours. Of this Optallius it is said in Lapidario, that this Optallius keepeth and saveth his eyen that beareth it, cleere and sharp and without griefe, and dimmeth other men’s eyen that be about, with a maner clowde, and smiteth them with a maner blindnesse, that is called Amentia, so that they may not see neither take heede what is done before their eyen. Therefore it is said that it is the most sure patron of theeves.
The opal seems to have appealed to Shakespeare as a fit emblem of inconstancy, for in “Twelfth Night” he makes the clown say to the Duke:218
Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the Tailor make thy garment of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is very opal.
That the beauty of the opal was fully appreciated in the sixteenth century is shown by the words of Cardano, who states that he once bought one of these stones for fifteen gold crowns and found as much pleasure in its possession as he did in that of a diamond that had cost him five hundred crowns.219 Although superstitious beliefs were rather the rule than the exception in Cardano’s time, none of the silly fancies regarding the ominous quality of the opal were then current. It was reserved for the nineteenth century to develop these altogether unreasonable—and indeed almost inexplicable—superstitions. The ownership of so fair an object as a fine opal must certainly be a source of pleasure, and hence add to the good fortune of the owner.
Although opal has been considered by some a stone of misfortune, black opal is regarded as an exceptionally lucky stone. Formerly black opals were artificially made by dipping the light-colored stone into ink, or by allowing burnt oil to enter cracks in the stone produced by heating. About the year 1900, however, a number of deposits of natural black opals were found in the White Cliff region of New South Wales, whence exceedingly beautiful gems have been secured, with wonderful flames of green, red, and blue in a black field. Some of these have sold for $1000 and even for a higher price, the smaller ones bringing from a few dollars upward each. It has been claimed that $2,000,000 worth have been sold from New South Wales. A remarkable example is figured on the frontispiece of this volume. The late F. Marion Crawford was a great admirer of this strangely beautiful variety of opal.
That ill-luck and good-luck are relative terms is shown us published of an opal by Paris newspapers. A shopgirl, plainly clad, in crossing the Place de l’Opéra, when the street traffic was at its greatest, stopped at one of the “refuges” halfway across the street. To the girl’s great surprise, an elegantly attired lady standing there slipped an opal ring from her finger and gave it to the girl, who took it to a jeweller’s shop to sell it. Here she was arrested on suspicion of having stolen it. The magistrate before whom she appeared was inclined to believe her story and ordered a “personal” in a widely read journal asking the lady to clear the girl of the charge. A titled lady presented herself, substantiating the girl’s statement. She feared ill-luck would befall her if she wore or kept the ring, which was returned to the shopgirl.
A possible explanation of the superstitious dread the opal used to excite some time ago may be found in the fact that lapidaries and gem-setters to whom opals were entrusted were sometimes so unfortunate as to fracture them in the process of cutting or setting. This was frequently due to no fault on the part of the cutters or setters, but was owing to the natural brittleness of the opal. As such workmen are responsible to the owners for any injury to the gems, they would soon acquire a prejudice against opals, and would come to regard them as unlucky stones. Very widespread superstitions have no better foundation than this, for the original cause, sometimes a quite rational one, is soon lost sight of and popular fantasy suggests something entirely different and better calculated to appeal to the imagination.
The belief that the diamond fractured the teeth if it were put in the mouth, and ruptured the intestines if it were swallowed, already appears in pseudo-Aristotle,220 and can therefore be dated back to the ninth and perhaps to the seventh century. This fancy evidently owes its origin to the fact that the diamond, because of its hardness, was used to cut all other stones, and the idea of its destructive quality was strengthened by the old legends regarding the venomous serpents which guarded the place where it was found. Hence the firm conviction that it would bring death to any one who swallowed it.
According to Garcias ab Orta (1563), the diamond was not used for medicinal purposes in the India of his time, except when injected into the bladder to break up vesical calculi. He notes, however, the prevalent belief that diamonds, or diamond dust, when taken internally, worked as a poison. As a proof of the falsity of this belief, Garcias adduces the fact that the slaves who worked in the diamond mines often swallowed diamonds to conceal them, and never experienced any ill effects, the stones being recovered in a natural way. The same author notes the case of a man who suffered from chronic dysentery and whose wife had for a long time administered to him doses of diamond dust. If this did not help him, neither did it injure him; finally, by the advice of the doctors, this strange treatment was abandoned. The man eventually died of his disease, but many days after the doses of diamond dust had been discontinued.221
The Hindus believed that a flawed diamond, or one containing specks or spots, was so unlucky that it could even deprive Indra of his highest heaven. The original shape of the stone was also considered of great importance, more especially in early times, when but few, if any, diamonds, were cut. A triangular stone was said to cause quarrels, a square diamond inspired the wearer with vague terrors; a five-cornered stone had the worst effect of all, for it brought death; only the six-cornered diamond was productive of good.222
The Turkish sultan Bejazet II (1447-1512) is said to have been done to death by a dose of pulverized diamond administered to him by his son Selim, who mixed the diamond dust with the sultan’s food.223 It is also related that the disciples of Paracelsus (1493-1541) spread the report that he died from the effects of a dose of diamond dust. Ambrosius224 conjectures that this was only an excuse to explain the demise of the master in the prime of life—he was but forty-eight years old at the time of his death—although he had promised long life to all who made use of his medicaments.
While Benvenuto Cellini (1500-1571), the unrivalled goldsmith, was imprisoned in Rome, in 1538, he strongly suspected that his enemies were seeking to poison him by tampering with his food. Cellini shared the belief of his contemporaries that there was no more deadly poison than diamond dust. One day, while eating his noonday meal, he felt something grate between his teeth. He paid no particular attention to this, but when he had finished eating his eye was caught by some bright particles on the plate. Picking up one of these and examining it carefully, he was terrified to find what he supposed to be a diamond splinter, and he straightway gave himself up for lost, thinking that he had swallowed a quantity of diamond dust. He prayed to God for an hour and finally became reconciled to the thought of dying, but suddenly it occurred to him that he had not tested the hardness of the fragment he had found in his food. He immediately took the splinter and tried to crush it between his knife and the stone window-sill; to his joy the attempt succeeded, and he became convinced that what he had swallowed was not diamond dust. Later, after his release, Cellini learned that an enemy had given a diamond to a certain Lione Aretino, a gem-cutter, instructing him to grind it up so that the dust could be placed in Cellini’s food. The gem-cutter was very poor and the diamond was worth a hundred scudi, so the man yielded to temptation and substituted a citrine for the diamond. To this circumstance alone did Cellini attribute his escape from death.225
In England, more than seventy years after Cellini’s experience, diamond dust was selected as a poison to do away with a luckless prisoner. Sir Thomas Overbury had incurred the bitter animosity of the Countess of Essex, because he opposed her marriage with the favorite of James I, Robert Carr, Viscount Somerset, whom he had befriended and whose career he had furthered. The marriage took place, however, and, in 1613, Overbury was imprisoned in the Tower, through the machinations of the countess. She then sought the aid of one James Franklin, an apothecary, directing him to concoct a slow and deadly poison, which should be mixed with Overbury’s food. In the minutes of Franklin’s confession, he is said to have stated that the countess asked him what he thought of white arsenic. His reply was that this poison would prove too violent. “What say you (quoth she) to powder of diamonds?” He answered, “I know not the nature of that.” She said that he was a fool, and gave him pieces of gold, and bade him buy some of that powder for her. It appears, however, from the testimony, that a number of ingredients were employed, quite probably small doses of mercury, cantharides, etc., as well as the baleful diamond dust. Poor Overbury lingered on for more than three months, but was finally put out of his misery by a clyster of corrosive sublimate.226
As a proof of the deadly effects caused by the diamond, the Portuguese Zacutus relates the case of a merchant’s servant who surreptitiously swallowed three rough diamonds belonging to his master. On the following day this man was seized with violent abdominal pains, all the remedies administered to him were without effect, and he soon died from the extensive internal ulceration produced by the sharp edges of the diamonds.227
This old fancy that diamonds or diamond dust had deadly effects when swallowed is pretty well exploded by this time, little or no confirmation being afforded by the instances cited in the matter. However, quite recently it has been shown that swallowing a diamond can prove fatal to a fowl. While a prize-winning cockerel was being fondled by his proud owner, it spied a flashing diamond set in a ring on his hand, and immediately pecked out the stone and swallowed it. Not long after, the fowl died—not, however, because it was poisoned by the diamond, but because it was chloroformed to insure the speedy recovery of the stone.
An old English ballad, treating of the loves of Hind Horn and Maid Rimnild, recounts that when Hind Horn, who loved and was beloved by the king’s daughter, went to sea to escape the wrath of the king, the princess gave him a ring set with seven diamonds. We are told that when far from home:
Hereupon, he hastened back, for the paleness of the stone was a sign the loved one was unfaithful to him. On his return, he succeeded in preventing her marriage to another, and everything ended happily.228
In a fourteenth century MS. of the Old English romance upon which the ballad is founded, the stone in the ring is not named; in giving it Rimnild says:229
In this older form of the tale, the stone either grows pale or red as a sign of misfortune. It is interesting to note that Epiphanius, writing a thousand years earlier, states that the adamas of the high-priest grew red as a presage of bloodshed and defeat for the Jews.
Regarding the old fancy that a serpent could not look upon an emerald without losing its sight, the Arabian gem dealer, Ahmed Teifashi, in 1242 writes as follows:231
After having read in learned books of this peculiarity of the emerald, I tested it by my own experiment and found the statements exact. It chanced that I had in my possession a fine emerald of the zabâbi variety, and with this I decided to make the experiment on the eyes of a viper. Therefore, having made a bargain with a snake-charmer to procure me some vipers, as soon as I received them I selected one and placed it in a vessel. This being done, I took a stick of wood, attached to the end a piece of wax, and embedded my emerald in this. I then brought the emerald near to the viper’s eyes. The reptile was strong and vigorous, and even raised its head out of the vessel, but as soon as I approached the emerald to its eyes, I heard a slight crepitation and saw that the eyes were protruding and dissolving into a humor. After this the viper was dazed and confused; I had expected that it would spring from the vessel, but it moved uneasily hither and thither, without knowing which way to turn; all its agility was lost, and its restless movements soon ceased.
Wolfgang Gabelchover, in his commentary on the sixth book of the treatise “De Gemmis,” by Andrea Baccio, gives the following account of a strange and tragic experience in regard to a ruby:232
It is worthy of note that the true Oriental ruby, by frequent changes of color and by growing obscurity, announces to the wearer some impending misfortune or calamity; and the obscurity and opacity is greater or less according to the extent of the coming ill-fortune. Alas! that what I had often heard proclaimed by learned men, I should myself experience; for as, on the fifth of December, 1600, I was travelling from Stuttgart to Calw with my beloved wife Catherine Adelmann of pious memory, I plainly observed in the course of the journey that a very beautiful ruby which she had given me, and which I wore on my hand, set in a gold ring, once and again lost its splendid coloring and became obscure, changing its brightness for a dark hue. This dark hue continued not for one or two days only, but so long that I was greatly terrified, and, removing the ring from my finger, concealed it in a case. Wherefore, I repeatedly warned my wife that some great calamity was impending either for her or for myself, the which I inferred from the change and variation of the ruby. Nor was I deceived, for within a few days she was seized with a dangerous illness, which resulted in her death.
A story explaining one at least of these supposedly ominous changes of color in precious stones, is given by Johann Jacob Spener, who states that it was told him by a trustworthy informant:233
There was a jeweller, expert, prudent, and rich, three essential qualities in a jeweller. One day, after having washed his hands, this man sat at a table, when, glancing at a ruby ring he wore on his finger, he remarked that the stone, which usually delighted the eye with its splendor, had lost its brilliancy and become dull. Since he believed what others had related to him, he was firmly persuaded that some misfortune threatened him, and, having removed the ring from his finger, he placed it in its case. A fortnight later, one of this man’s sons died of varioloid. Reminded by this event of the phenomenon observed in the ruby, the jeweller took it from the case and found, on examination, that it had regained its pristine brilliancy. This fact confirmed him in his belief in the ominous quality of the stone. Once more, shortly after washing his hands, he remarked anew that the splendor of the ruby was dimmed, and he again fell a prey to anxiety, lest some fresh misfortune was impending. Since, however, his apprehensions proved vain and no untoward event happened, he investigated the matter carefully, and discovered that the obscuration of the color was due to a drop of water which had penetrated between the ruby and the foil, as the jewellers call it, and that the former brilliancy returned when the water had evaporated.
The ominous character of the onyx is especially noted in Arabic tradition, as is shown by the Arabic name for the stone, el jaza, “sadness.” The following passage from pseudo-Aristotle offers an illustration of the strength of this prejudice against the onyx, which was said to come from China and the Magreb:234
Those who are in the land of China fear this stone so much that they dread to go into the mines where it occurs; hence none but slaves and menials, who have no other means of gaining a livelihood, take the stone from the mines. When it has been extracted, it is carried out of the country and sold in other lands. Those men of the Magreb also who are gifted with any wisdom will not wear an onyx or place it in their treasuries. Indeed, no one is willing to wear it, unless he be bereft of his senses; for whosoever wears it, either set in a ring or in any other way, will have fearful dreams and be tormented by a multitude of doubts and apprehensions; he will also have many disputes and lawsuits. Lastly, whoever keeps an onyx in his house, or places it in a vessel, or puts it in food or drink, will suffer loss of energy and capacity.
An ominous character was attributed to the red coral, especially the more highly colored varieties. If worn so that the substance came in direct contact with the skin, it was asserted that the color would pale, the coral also losing its brightness if the wearer became ill, or even if he were only threatened with severe illness. The same effect was said to be induced if some deadly poison had been taken. Cardano writes that he more than once observed this phenomenon, and he thinks that in these cases, where the wearer was not yet attacked by disease, its threatening “vapor,” though not strong enough to provoke decided symptoms in the human body, was sufficiently powerful to offset the more delicate and subtle essence of the mineral substance. Of course, for us the mineral would be much less sensitive than flesh and blood, but the sixteenth century writers, and to a still greater degree those of an earlier time, attributed to stones not only life in a general way, but old age, disease, and death, in a very positive sense.235
Rabbinical tradition tells of a wonderful luminous stone placed by Noah in the Ark. This stone shone more brilliantly by day than by night, and served to distinguish the day from the night when, during the flood, neither sun nor moon could be seen.236 According to another Jewish legend, Abraham is said to have built a city for the six sons Hagar bore to him. The wall with which this city was surrounded was so lofty that the light of the sun was cut off, and to offset this Abraham gave to his sons enormous precious stones and pearls. These exceeded the sun in brightness, and will be used in the time of the Messiah.237
Ælian relates the following tale of a luminous stone. A woman of Tarentum, named Heracleis, who was a pattern of the domestic virtues, lost her husband and mourned sincerely for him. Her grief made her compassionate, for when a young stork just learning to fly lost its strength and fell to the ground before her, Heracleis picked up the helpless bird and tended it carefully until its strength returned and it was able to fly away. A year later, when the woman was outside the house enjoying the bright warm sunshine, she saw a stork flying toward her. As the bird passed over her head, it let fall a precious stone into her lap. Heracleis took the stone with, her into the house, feeling by an infallible instinct that the stork which had dropped it was the one she had cared for in the previous year. During the night she woke up, and was astonished to see that the room was lighted up as though by many torches, the radiance proceeding from the stone bestowed by the stork as a proof of its gratitude.238
In German, the stone called Donnerkeil (thunderbolt) has several synonyms; among these is Storchstein (“stork-stone”). It is evident that the stone of Heracleis was identical with the precious and brilliant variety of cerauniæ mentioned by Pliny, “which drew to themselves the radiance of the stars.” The flashing and ruddy light of the ruby suggested an igneous origin, and induced the belief that rubies were generated by a fire from heaven,—in other words, by the lightning flash.239
The analogy between the flame of a lamp or the glow of a burning coal and the radiance of a ruby, suggested some of the names given to this stone, or those resembling it in color, as, for instance, the Greek anthrax and the Latin carbunculus and lychnis. Probably the fancy that such stones were luminous in the dark was nothing more than the logical result of the quasi-identification of them with fire in some of its manifestations. Still, it is a well-known fact that some stones possess a high degree of phosphorescence. This circumstance must have been observed by chance, and may have had something to do with the legends of luminous stones, although this peculiarity is not characteristic of the ruby.
According to Pliny, the lychnis, perhaps a spinel, was so called a lucernarum accensu (from the lighting, or the light, of lamps). The author of the poem “Lithica” says that the diamond (adamas), like the crystal, when placed on an altar, sent forth a flame without the aid of fire.240 If this did not refer to the use of rock-crystal as a burning-glass, we might see in the passage an indication that the phosphorescence of the diamond had already been noted before the second or third century of our era.
From the Lydian river Tmolus a marvellous stone was taken which was said to change color four times a day. This surpasses the properties of the “saphire merveilleux” which changed its hue at night. Only innocent young girls could find the Lydian stone, and while they wore it they were defended from outrage.241 Is it possible that the ancient writer intended to hint at the proverbial fickleness of woman, when stating that this changeable stone could only be discovered by one of the fair sex?
The temple of the Syrian goddess Astarte contained an image of this divinity crowned with a diadem in which was set a luminous stone. Such was the splendor of the light emitted by this gem that the whole sanctuary was lighted up as though with a myriad of lamps. Indeed, the stone itself bore the name lychnos (“lamp”). In the daytime this light was fainter, but was still very noticeable, as a fiery glow.242
Two fabulous stones are noted by pseudo-Aristotle, and one of these, the “sleeping-stone,” must have possessed marvellous soporific power. It was a luminous stone of a bright ruddy hue, and shone in the darkness with a bright light. If a small quantity of this stone were hung about a person’s neck, he would sleep uninterruptedly for three days and nights, and, when awakened on the fourth day, he would still be almost overcome by sleep. The other stone, of a greenish hue, had the opposite quality and induced prolonged wakefulness; so long as it was worn, sleep was banished. Our author gravely states that “some men who must watch at night suffer greatly from lack of sleep.” If, however, they wore the “waking-stone,” they suffered no inconvenience from their enforced vigils.243 Evidently this stone would be a precious possession for night-watchmen, and a more satisfactory guarantee for their employers than “timeclocks” or other tests of wakefulness.
In his commentary on Marbodus, Alardus of Amsterdam relates the history of a wonderful luminous stone, a “chrysolampis,” which, with many other precious stones, was set in a marvellous golden tablet dedicated to St. Adelbert, apostle of the Frisians and patron of the town of Egmund (d. 720-730), by Hildegard, wife of Theodoric, Count of Holland. The gift was made to the Abbey of Egmund, where the saint’s body reposed. Alardus tells us that the “chrysolampis” shone so brightly that when the monks were called to the chapel in the night-time, they could read the Hours without any other light. This wonderful stone was stolen by one of the monks, whom Alardus terms “the most rapacious creature who ever went on two legs”; but, fearing to keep so valuable a gem with him, he cast it into the sea and it was never recovered.244
Strange tales were told of a luminous “carbuncle” on the shrine of St. Elizabeth (d. 1231) at Marburg. This stone was set above the statuette of the Virgin, and it was said to emit fiery rays at night. However, Creuzer informs us that it was only a very brilliant rock crystal of a yellowish-white hue. The shrine was an elaborate work of art in silver gilt, and was literally covered with precious stones to the number of 824, besides two large pearls and a great many smaller ones. All these gems were stripped from their settings when the shrine was taken from Marburg to Cassel in 1810.245
At the Dusseldorf Exhibition of 1891, the writer saw what was called “The Ring of St. Elizabeth,” purporting to be set with her miraculously luminous ruby. The stone in the setting proved, however, to be a large almost flat carbuncle garnet of no great brilliancy, set in a narrow rim of gold.
After noting the reports of medieval travellers regarding the wonderful luminous rubies of the sovereigns of Pegu and repeating the tale that the night was illumined by their splendor, Cleandro Arnobio adds that it did not appear that any such rubies were to be found in his day. Nevertheless, he had heard from an ecclesiastic of a certain jewel that shone brightly at night. This stone, however, was not a ruby, but was of a pale citron hue, and hence Arnobio inclines to believe that it was either a topaz or a yellow diamond.246 This probably refers to the Marburg “carbuncle.”
The luminous “ruby” of the King of Ceylon is noted by Chau Ju-Kua,247 a Chinese writer of about the middle of the thirteenth century and hence a contemporary of the Arab Teifashi. He says: “The king holds in his hand a jewel five inches in diameter, which cannot be burned by fire, and which shines in the night like a torch.” This gigantic luminous gem was also believed to possess the virtues of an elixir of youth, for we are told that the king rubbed his face with it daily and by this means would retain his youthful looks even should he live more than ninety years.
The glories of Emperor Manuel’s (ca. 1120-1180) throne are celebrated by the Hebrew traveller Benjamin of Tudela, who visited Constantinople in 1161 A.D. This splendid throne was of gold studded with precious stones and, suspended from the canopy by gold chains, hung a magnificent golden crown set with jewels of incalculable value and so bright and sparkling that their glitter rendered needless any other illumination at night.248
When Henry II of France (1519-1559) made his solemn entry into the city of Boulogne, a stranger from India presented to the sovereign a luminous stone. It was rather soft, had a fiery brilliance, and could not be touched with impunity. According to De Thou, this story was vouched for by J. Pipin, who saw the stone himself and described it in a letter to Antoine Mizauld, a writer on occult themes, well known in his day.249
Although Garcias ab Orta did not believe in the tales current in his time regarding luminous rubies, he relates a story of such a stone told to him by a gem-dealer. This man stated that he had purchased a number of fine but small rubies from Ceylon, and had spread them out over a table. When he gathered them up again, one of the stones remained hidden in a fold of the table-cloth. In the night he remarked something like a flame emanating from the table. Lighting a candle, he approached the table and found there the small ruby; when this was removed and the candle extinguished, the light was no longer visible. Garcias admits that the gem-dealers were fond of telling good stories, but he concludes with the dictum, “we must trust in them nevertheless.”250
Not only the ruby, but the emerald also had the reputation of being a luminous stone, for, besides the shining “emerald” pillar in the temple of Melkart at Tyre, Pliny records the tale of a marble lion, with eyes of gleaming emeralds, which was set over the tomb of “a petty king called Hermias.” This tomb was on the coast, and the flashing light from the emerald eyes frightened away the tunny-fish, to the great loss of the fishermen.251 Whether the eyes of the magnificent chryselephantine statue of Athene by Phidias were supposed to be luminous we do not know, but they were incrusted with precious stones.252
The collection of works by the English alchemists, published by Elias Ashmole, contains the tale of a worthy parson who lived in a little town near London, and who wished to immortalize himself by building across the Thames a bridge which would always be lighted at night. After relating several expedients which suggested themselves to him, the poet continues: