Previous to the time of the French Revolution, and commencing from periods dating back beyond mediæval days, France had accumulated a casket of gems and jewels of extraordinary richness and value. The amateur may form an idea of their beauty and magnificence, from the famous report made to the French Assembly by M. Delattre in 1791. In this list there were enumerated with special care, 9,547 diamonds, 506 pearls, 230 rubies, 134 sapphires, 150 emeralds, 71 topazes, 3 Oriental amethysts, 8 Syrian garnets, and 8 other stones not designated.
The estimated value of these treasures, together with the bijou and mounted parures belonging to the Crown, amounted to nearly thirty million francs. From this carefully arranged inventory, we have made the following selection, which will be interesting to the reader at the present day, as not only showing the estimated worth of the gems at that time, but also describing some of the fine gems whose history has since been lost.
| Weight. k. | Value. fr. | |
|---|---|---|
| 1 A brilliant diamond called Le Regent | 136¹⁴⁄₁₆ | 12,000,000 |
| 2 A diamond cut in facets, perfect in lustre and brilliancy, called Le Sancy | 33¹²⁄₁₆ | 1,000,000 |
| 3 Diamond cut in facets | 28⁶⁄₁₆ | 250,000 |
| 4 A brilliant diamond | 26¹²⁄₁₆ | 150,000 |
| 5 A pear-shaped diamond, of a peach-blossom hue | 24¹³⁄₁₆ | 200,000 |
| 6 A diamond called the Mirror of Portugal | 21²⁄₁₆ | 250,000 |
| 7 Pear-shaped diamond, of a yellowish cast | 20¹⁴⁄₁₆ | 65,000 |
| 8 Rose-colored diamond, with flaws | 20¹²⁄₁₆ | 48,000 |
| 9 An olive-shaped diamond, clear | 18¹³⁄₁₆ | 85,000 |
| 10 A brilliant, of a greenish cast, and flawed | 18¹¹⁄₁₆ | 20,000 |
| 11 A pale wine-colored brilliant | 18⁹⁄₁₆ | 75,000 |
| 12 A steel-colored brilliant | 17⁷⁄₁₆ | 18,000 |
| 13 Brilliant, cloudy | 17 | 50,000 |
| 14 The 10th Mazarin, cloudy | 16 | 50,000 |
| 15 A brilliant, of peach-blossom hue | 14¹⁴⁄₁₆ | 25,000 |
| 16 A fine white brilliant | 14¹⁴⁄₁₆ | 150,000 |
| 17 A brilliant, of peach-blossom hue | 14¹²⁄₁₆ | 30,000 |
| 18 Brilliant | 13¹⁰⁄₁₆ | 60,000 |
| 19 A brilliant, of brownish hue | 13⁸⁄₁₆ | 35,000 |
| 20 A brilliant, of yellowish hue | 11¹⁰⁄₁₆ | 15,000 |
| 21 A brilliant, of brownish hue | 11¹⁰⁄₁₆ | 10,000 |
| 22 Brilliant, of yellowish cast | 11⁶⁄₁₆ | 15,000 |
| 23 Brilliant, of peach-blossom hue | 11²⁄₁₆ | 10,000 |
| 24 Pale-blue brilliant | 10⁷⁄₁₆ | 30,000 |
| 25 Brilliant, of brownish hue | 10⁴⁄₁₆ | 25,000 |
| 26 White brilliant | 10 | 30,000 |
| 27 15 brilliants (of unknown weight) | ...... | 833,000 |
| 28 54 brilliants, each from | 5 to 10 | 756,000 |
| 29 227 brilliants, each from | 1 to 5 | 332,700 |
| 30 1,631 small diamonds, together | 425 | 77,228 |
| 31 12 diamonds, rose-cut and flawed | 84 | 82,700 |
| Royal State Dress, White Parure. | ||
| 32 12 brilliants, each from and 163 smaller ones | 2 to 20 | 413,000 |
| 33 The Order of St. Esprit, 9 brilliants, each from, and 286 smaller ones | 7 to 14 | 324,000 |
| 34 The Epaulette, composed of 12 brilliants, each | 3 to 19 | 306,000 |
| 35 The Croix du Cordon, 6 large brilliants and 143 smaller diamonds | ...... | 200,000 |
| Colored Parure. | ||
| 36 A rich sky-blue brilliant | 67²⁄₁₆ | 3,000,000 |
| 37 Pale-blue brilliant | 31¹²⁄₁₆ | 300,000 |
| 38 Croix du Cordon, 13 large brilliants, 362 smaller | ...... | 10,000 |
| 39 Epaulette, 9 large brilliants, 197 smaller | ...... | 47,000 |
| 40 Epée de diamonds, 2,189 rose-cut diamonds | 400 | 329,075 |
| 41 Diamond buttons, large and small | 552 | 294,851 |
| 42 Other diamonds of various qualities | ...... | 315,000 |
This magnificent and matchless collection was mysteriously stolen in September, 1792, and many of the fine gems have not been recovered. Neither has time yet divulged the authors of this bold theft, nor explained clearly the motives that led to the act. The circumstances connected with this celebrated robbery are interesting although obscure. They are as follows:—
After the fearful and bloody scenes of the 10th of August and the 2d of September, fears were entertained by the Republican chiefs concerning the safety of the public treasures. Therefore the building which contained the gems was closed to the public; and the Commune of Paris, representing the domain of the State, placed its seals upon the apartments wherein were placed the crown, sceptre, the golden wreath left by Cardinal Richelieu to Louis XIII., and a great number of gems and bijou. On the morning of the 17th of September M. Sergent and two other Commissioners of the Police perceived that during the night thieves had entered the halls of the Garde Meuble by scaling the colonnade from the side of the Place Louis XV., and opening the windows on that side. They had broken the seals, picked the locks, and, after removing many of the inestimable treasures, had disappeared, without leaving a trace of their flight.
The city was thrown into consternation at the boldness of the act and the magnitude of the robbery. Active and untiring search was at once made, but not a trace of the plunder nor the least clew to the perpetrators could be obtained.
Not long after, however, an anonymous letter revealed the information that a part of the spoil was then secreted in a ditch beside one of the alleys of the Champs d’Elysées. Sergent, with his colleagues, hastened to the spot indicated, and found there the Regent diamond and the magnificent agate cup then known as the Chalice of Abbé Suger.
Search was thus stimulated to further exertions, but without avail and twelve years passed without affording the least clew to the robbers. At this time a forgery was committed upon the Bank of France, and several persons were arrested for the act. Among them was a veteran soldier who had formerly served in the Pandours, and who was called by his comrades “Baba.”
When arraigned before the court, Baba made the following singular confession after betraying his accomplices in the forgery: “This is not the first time,” he exclaimed in an excited manner, “that my confessions have been useful to society; and if you condemn me I shall implore the clemency of the Emperor. Without me Napoleon would not be on the throne, for it is to me alone the success of the battle of Marengo is due. I was one of the robbers of the Garde Meuble. I aided my accomplices to bury in the ditch in the Champs d’Elysées the Regent and the other objects which, being easily recognized, would have led to detection. Upon the consideration of a promise which has been perfectly kept, I revealed this hiding-place. The Regent was found; and, gentlemen of the court, you are not ignorant of the fact that the magnificent diamond was placed in the hands of the Dutch by the First Consul to procure the funds which were so much needed after the 18th Brumaire.”
Baba was nevertheless condemned to the galleys, but the sentence was not enforced, and shortly afterwards he was sent to the prison in the Bicêtre, where he remained until he died. Nothing further than this was ever made known publicly, but suspicions of complicity in the robbery were directed towards the Orleans family.
Napoleon, when crowned as Emperor, and with the wealth of Europe at his command, made great efforts to restore the National regalia to their former beauty and value. The various countries of Europe were ransacked for the lost gems; and it is stated that a number of them were recovered. Great numbers of other gems were also bought and added to the Regalia; so that in 1810 the inventory of the Crown exhibited a list of 37,393 precious stones.
The changes of the one hundred days and the Restoration left the National property untouched. Under the reigns of Louis XVIII. and Charles X. additions were made, and the casket contained 64,812 gems and precious stones of all kinds. The inventory of 1849 presented the same number of articles, with a total valuation of over twenty millions of francs, without estimating the value of the bijou.
There must have been a large augmentation during this time, for the present which Louis XVIII. ordered to be made deducted from the collection diamonds of the value of three quarters of a million of francs. This costly present was in the form of the Order of Saint Esprit and constructed of superb diamonds.
Of the robbery of 1792, the Sancy diamond and the unique blue one of sixty-seven karats have never been recovered. Since the inventory of 1810 two beautiful gems have also disappeared. One of these was the magnificent opal which Josephine wore, and which was known as the Burning of Troy. The other was the beautiful brilliant of thirty-four karats which was obtained by M. Elias for Napoleon. This was the much-loved gem which the Emperor is said to have carried with him on his person, and which was asserted to have been lost in the rout at Waterloo.
The magnificent blue diamond, which was regarded as one of the marvels of the mineral kingdom, has never been recovered. Its early history has also been lost, but the gem is believed to be the identical stone which Tavernier brought from India and sold to Louis XIV. At that time it was described as a gem of a beautiful violet hue, but of a bad form, being flat and thin. Its weight in this condition was 112³⁄₁₆ karats, which would probably afford a fine brilliant of the size of the missing stone, 67²⁄₁₆ karats. History has failed to trace the wanderings of this gem since its departure from the Louvre, but suspicion rests upon the superb blue diamond which was in the possession of the English banker, the late Mr. Hope. However, the English diamond weighs but 44¹⁄₂ karats. Therefore a loss of quite 22 karats was incurred in recutting the stone in order to escape detection.
The Regent diamond, which was found uninjured in the ditch of the Champs d’Elysées, is in reality the most beautiful diamond yet known in the world. It is not the largest, but it is the most perfect of all the paragons, being almost faultless in its transparency and purity, as well as in its exact and symmetrical form.
It derives its name from the fact that it was purchased and added to the French casket by the Regent of France. This magnificent gem was found in the diamond mines of Puteal, about one hundred and thirty-five miles from the city of Golconda. It weighed in its natural condition four hundred and ten karats, but during the process of cutting it was reduced to 136¹⁴⁄₁₆ karats. A Parsee merchant by the name of Jamcund, who was a famous collector of diamonds, obtained possession of the stone and brought it to Madras, where he sold it to the English Governor, William Pitt, for $60,000. Pitt brought the stone safely to London, and, after having had it cut, offered it for sale. The Royal House of England declined to invest in the gem; but after long negotiations the Duke of Orleans, Regent of France during the minority of Louis XV., purchased it in 1717 for the sum of 3,375,000 francs. Seventy-four years afterwards a commission of experts reckoned its value at 12,000,000 francs, and even this enormous sum is exceeded by the valuation of the present day.
Napoleon, after establishing his fortunes, redeemed the Regent from the Dutch bankers, and had it set in the handle of the sword of state. Since then it has been removed and so arranged in its setting as to be placed at will either in the crown or used separately.
To the historian this beautiful gem is singularly interesting, for it has indirectly exercised a mighty influence upon the destinies of Europe and the progress of civilization. It was of infinite aid to Napoleon after the 18th Brumaire; and probably without the help of the little glittering pebble as a collateral for the Dutch loan, the decisive battle of Marengo never would have been fought. And it is no less certain that William Pitt, England’s Premier, never would have been the leading statesman of Europe had not his grandfather acquired the diamond in India and established the prosperity of his family by its sale. Pitt was the master of European politics; and even after his life was crushed out by the defeat at Austerlitz, the heritage of his genius and his hate was apparent in every coalition, every blow, against Napoleon that finally culminated at Waterloo. Therefore, in reviewing the history of the Regent diamond, the philosopher might be tempted to say that it was to the same gem, by a singular fatality or caprice of fortune, the “Great Captain” indirectly owed his success and his downfall.
The jewels belonging to the Crown of France, as collected and restored by Napoleon, and increased by the good taste of the succeeding rulers of the country, are of great beauty and value. It is, indeed, one of the finest collections of Europe. The casket, at the present time, contains sixty perfect diamonds, varying in weight from 25 to 28 karats, besides the splendid and matchless Regent. The actual crown displays eight great diamonds of the purest water, weighing from 19 to 28 karats each, besides the Regent, which may be adapted at will.
During the Universal Exposition at Paris, in 1855, the jewels of the Crown were displayed to the public. Many of the gems were mounted for the occasion in new parures; and the arrangement presented one of the most charming exhibitions ever seen in civilized countries.
We will now turn to the history of one of the lost diamonds of the Crown, and relate the facts and hypotheses concerning it as fully as we have been able to collect them. They form, indeed, a perplexing theme.
The beautiful diamond inventoried as the Sancy, and of the weight of 33¹²⁄₁₆ karats and valued at 1,000,000 francs, was also stolen and never recovered. This gem has been associated with the fortunes of the redoubtable Burgundian warrior, Charles the Bold; and its history has done more to perpetuate his name than the record of all his misdeeds and his desperate battles. To prove, however, that this is the identical gem lost to the Swiss will be a difficult task; for the antiquaries have unearthed more Sancy diamonds than there were “Richmonds in the field.” The name of Sancy has, indeed, become famous by embracing in one story the fortunes of three distinct gems.
The erudite King has patiently traced out the traditions connected with the name of Sancy, and appears to prove that three stories instead of one are included in the history of Baron Sancy. But the stone that was stolen from the French casket in 1792 is inventoried at the weight of 33¹²⁄₁₆ karats, while the gem that has lately gone back to India, and is supposed to be the stolen gem, weighs quite 54 karats. Here is a new mystery for the antiquaries to clear away; or did Delattre and his associates, who made out this inventory with exceeding care, write 33 instead of 53?
The histories of these diamonds are so interesting that we will attempt to repeat them here, following, in part, the views of Mr. King. Not long after the invention, by Berquen, of diamond-cutting by the process of abrasion, Charles the Bold, then in the full blaze of martial glory, submitted to him three large rough diamonds. The native of Bruges succeeded so well in polishing them, that Charles presented him with the princely sum of 3,000 ducats.
One of these gems Charles gave to Pope Sextus IV., and it was mounted in the Tiara, where it is said to remain. The second was presented to Louis XI. of France; while the third was reserved by the Burgundian hero, and set in a grotesque manner to be worn as a personal ornament.
This jewel, of true barbaric design, was formed of a triangular shape, with the newly cut diamond in the centre. This diamond was ⁵⁄₈ of an inch in its widest diameter, and was shaped as a pyramid, with the apex cut into a four-rayed star in relief. Around the gem were set three large Balais rubies and four magnificent pearls, each more than half an inch in diameter.
One of the Fugger family, in 1555, made a careful drawing of the jewel, with a written description of it, and these were afterwards published by Lambeccius in his Bibliotheca Cæsarea; so there can be no doubt about the appearance of the original diamond of Charles the Bold in its early days.
When the Duke led his band of freebooters into Switzerland on his long-projected foray, he took most of his gems along with him, not dreaming of disaster, and probably loving to view his treasures even amid the hardships of a campaign. Rough soldiers are sometimes as fond of the beautiful in art and nature as more delicate and refined organizations; and Charles the Bold and Suvaroff are not the only examples.
The terrific onslaught of the Swiss at Grandson crushed the Burgundian ranks so quickly that Charles had only time to escape with his sword, leaving all his cherished treasures in the hands of the dauntless mountaineers.
In the sack of the camp which speedily followed the rout, a soldier found the golden box in which the famous pendant was kept, but regarding the jewel as a gaudy and worthless bauble, he tossed it away under a wagon, and retained the box only. Shortly afterwards he began to suspect that the contents of so beautiful a box must have some relative value, and returning to the place he recovered the despised jewel. He did not long retain his treasure, but sold it to a priest for one florin. The priest also did not appear to have a high regard for his purchase, for he disposed of it to the magistrates of his own canton for three francs.
When it became known that the Bernese Government had possession of the Duke’s famous jewels, Jacob Fugger, one of the members of the celebrated Nuremberg family, went to Bern and negotiated for their purchase. The famous pendant, together with the Duke’s cap, which was made of silk covered with pearls and Balais rubies, and a plume case set with diamonds, pearls, and Balais rubies, were bought for the sum of 47,000 francs. Fugger retained the pendant in his possession at Nuremberg for many years, indulging in the hope, it has been said, that the Duke’s great-grandson, the Emperor Charles V., would purchase it as a family relic. When the celebrated capitalist died the ornament was still in his possession; but his great-nephew, who inherited the jewel, sold it to Henry VIII. of England. After the death of this monarch, his daughter presented the diamond to her bridegroom; and thus, by a remarkable coincidence, and after an absence of seventy-six years, the royal gem is again restored to the rightful heir of its original owner. So far the history of Sancy No. 1 can be clearly traced.
Now for the stories relating to the Sancy diamond No. 2. But, before proceeding further in this interesting and misty search, we will explain the history of the nobleman who has inseparably connected his name with so many gems.
Nicolas Harlai, Seigneur de Sancy, was of French descent, and the treasurer and intimate friend of King Henry IV. He had filled several positions of high responsibility, and served as ambassador to several of the Courts of Europe. He was also known as a man of culture, a lover of the fine arts, and an amateur in gems.
In the year 1589, Baron Sancy is said to have obtained a large diamond from the Pretender to the Crown of Portugal, as security for a loan of one hundred thousand livres. The antiquaries have thus far failed to ascertain whence this gem was obtained; but it cannot be supposed that it was the identical jewel Philip II. of Spain had received from the English Princess, for the Spaniard was then the bitterest foe of Don Antonio. Furthermore, Philip, when dying, in 1598, ten years later than the above-mentioned period, gave to the Infanta a diamond of great beauty saying that it once belonged to Queen Mary of England. At all events, it is quite certain that the French Baron had in his hands a large and valuable diamond.
Not long after this acquisition, Henry IV. wished to engage the services of a select body of Swiss soldiers, to serve in his army; and as security for the pay of these hirelings, he sent the gem by a trusty servant to Harlai, who was then in Switzerland. The faithful valet, whilst on his way to Bern, was beset by robbers in the forests that conceal the entrance to the pass of the Dôle, one of the mountains of the Jura. He managed to swallow the diamond without being perceived by the bandits, before he was stripped and assassinated.
The Baron, on learning the fate of his envoy, mistrusted that he had resorted to this expedient of concealing his treasure. He therefore sent a party of soldiers to the place, disinterred the body, and recovered the gem. It was immediately placed in the hands of the Jews of Metz, as security for a large sum of money; and it is also related that the gem was never redeemed. Here ends the history of the second Sancy; and no further account of it can be found.
Concerning the history of Sancy No. 3, it is related that when Baron Sancy returned from Constantinople, where he had been as ambassador, he exhibited a large and beautiful diamond, which he had acquired for the sum of $120,000. This statement is somewhat obscure, from the fact that the ambassador was not Harlai de Sancy, but his son Achille, who was also sent on various missions by Richelieu during the years 1626 to 1635. However, it is certain that a new diamond was imported into France by one of the Sancys, and that it was a remarkable gem. It was described as being of the form of an almond, faceted all over its surface with small facets, after the manner practised in India. The weight of this gem has been variously stated; and these conflicting statements have served to increase the mystery concerning the Sancy gems. The weight of the diamond has been given as high as one hundred and twenty-six karats; but Delisle assured Dutens that he saw M. Jacquemin, the Crown jeweller, weigh the gem, and that it did not exceed fifty-four karats. Nevertheless, the famous inventory of the French gems in 1792 gives 33¹²⁄₁₆ karats as the true weight of the famous Sancy diamond. How shall we explain this wide discrepancy?
Forty-two years after the death of the Baron, the diamond passed into the hands of Henrietta Maria, the queen-dowager of England, and subsequently into the possession of James II. The unfortunate king, while in exile, sold the gem to Louis IV. for the sum of $125,000; and here its history ends.
During the latter part of the seventeenth century, Robert de Berquen, a descendant of the famous lapidary, wrote his “Merveilles des Indes,” and therein he describes the diamond brought from India by Baron Sancy, as then in possession of the Queen of England, and being almond-like in form, faceted on both sides, and of fifty-four karats in weight. This account agrees with those of the French jewellers, and serves to connect the history of the gem up to this period.
Not many years after the bold robbery of 1792, a large diamond was acquired, by some mysterious means, by the widow of Charles IV. of Spain, who gave it to the notorious Prince of Peace Godoy. In 1838, Princess Paul Demidoff is said to have purchased it for half a million of roubles; and it is also certain that the Demidoff family sold it in 1865, to the Parsee millionnaire, Sir Jansetjee Jejeebhoy of Bombay, for $100,000.
Now the question arises, which was the true Sancy? And to settle the inquiry satisfactorily, will be a difficult task. From all these accounts, the reader may infer that there are three distinct diamonds included under the history of Sancy. The first is the diamond of the Duke of Burgundy, weighing, from its description, about thirty-three karats, and of a well-marked form. This gem is clearly traced to Philip II. of Spain. The second, which was of unknown weight, was last noticed in the hands of the Jews at Metz. The third was of the form of a brilliolette, and of fifty-four karats weight, and has lately returned to the land of its birth, with the honors of the name of Sancy. Which of these gems deserves the name of the Sancy diamond?
Madame de Pompadour, in the bright days of her prosperity, possessed some rare gems, but we can learn but little concerning them. Her will indicates that the beautiful ring containing white and rose-colored diamonds was given to the Duke de Goutaud, and also that the rare diamond of an aqua marine tint went to the Duke de Choiseul.
After having referred to the political importance of the Regent diamond, it may be proper for us to briefly mention the famous affair of the diamond necklace, which unjustly cast a stain upon the prestige of royalty in France, and ultimately exerted a certain influence, among other causes, that led to the downfall of the monarchy, and the fearful scenes that followed. The details of this daring scheme read more like romance than reality; yet they are well substantiated in history.
It appears that Böhmer, a jeweller of Paris, had collected, in 1784, a large number of beautiful diamonds, with which he formed a magnificent necklace valued at 1,600,000 francs. The jewel had been offered to the Queen Marie Antoinette; but she had declined the purchase as beyond her means at the time. Her regrets at her inability to obtain the splendid decoration reached the ears of Prince Cardinal de Rohan, who was then living at Paris, in disgrace, for having divulged some court secrets while he was ambassador at Vienna. The Prince was not only handsome and conceited, but he was notorious for his gallantry and his follies. Unfortunately for himself and the court, he sought at this time to regain the favor of the Queen, and made it the grand object of his life.
He had among his intimate acquaintances a bold, dashing woman by the name of Madame de la Motte, who pretended to be a countess of the family of Valois. She had married a man by the name of La Motte, who was intimate with the notorious quacks Villette and Cagliostro, who were then in the zenith of their fame. The Countess was well known in Paris as a woman of immorality and deeply versed in the arts of intrigue.
She became acquainted with the facts of the Queen’s admiration for the necklace and the infatuation of Rohan for the Queen; and upon these she arranged her scheme for duping the Prince and obtaining possession of the property. She soon won the confidence of Rohan, and represented to him the Queen’s intense longing for the necklace, and the favor he would gain in loaning the means which would enable her to obtain the coveted jewel and pay for it at her leisure. She promised, furthermore, through the aid of Cagliostro, to obtain an interview with the Queen on this subject. The promised interview took place one night in August, 1784, in the garden of Versailles; but the Queen was represented by a low character by the name of D’Oliva, who was almost a counterpart of Marie Antoinette.
Rohan was completely deceived, and agreed to purchase the necklace; which he did not long after, giving his notes for half-yearly payments, and receiving as security a bond from the pretended Queen, which, however, was forged by La Motte’s husband. The Prince Cardinal then intrusted the jewel to the Countess for conveyance to the Queen; but she passed it over to her husband, who lost no time in hurrying to London, where he immediately converted its gems into money. The Countess, however, did not hasten to join her husband, but remained at Paris, rejoicing in her audacity and good fortune, and with the hope of plucking more feathers from her princely victim. Nearly a year passed away before the secret was discovered.
Böhmer, anxious for his pay, approached the King; and the fraud was at once discovered. The Cardinal Prince was arrested just as he was about to perform mass before the court, and sent to the Bastile. After a short imprisonment, he was tried by a court of justice, but acquitted of criminal offence. However, he was sent in disgrace to reside at an abbey of his in Auvergne. Madame la Motte paid dearly for her crime and her dalliance in Paris after the prize had been secured, for she was sentenced to be branded on the shoulders, scourged in public, and condemned to perpetual imprisonment. She bore her trials with fortitude, and had the good fortune to escape from her prison in less than a year after her sentence. She joined her husband in London, and there published a bitter pamphlet against the French Court, and especially the Queen. It is generally supposed that the Countess died in London in 1791, either from a fever or the result of an accident caused by a drunken debauch. But a startling story comes from Russia, giving another account of the last moments of this celebrated adventuress.
It appears that the Emperor Alexander, disgusted with the conduct of three lady reformers who attempted to establish a revolution in religious opinion at St. Petersburg, banished them to the Crimea. They were Princess Galitzin, Madame de Krudener, and a mysterious personage who went by the name of Countess Gauchin. After death, which occurred during her banishment to the Crimea, the strange Countess proved to be the notorious De la Motte, who many years before had been publicly branded on the Place de la Grève in Paris.
It would appear from statements in mediæval history that necklaces were not much known in France, or at least were not in fashion, until the times of Charles VIII. For one of the earliest known in that country was that given by the above-named monarch to the beautiful Agnes Sorel. The uncut gems, which were of great beauty and value, weighed heavily upon the delicate neck and bosom of the fair creature; and she complained of it to her lover as being an instrument of torture as well as a decoration. The King, fascinated with the charming effect of the gems, together with the natural entrancing beauty of the maiden, begged her to wear it, saying, with a supplicating smile, “One might surely bear some little inconvenience to please those we love.”
The late Madame Thiers possessed a rare jewel, which came to her by inheritance, and which she wisely bequeathed to the Louvre collection. This jewel is a necklace of precious stones of the sixteenth century workmanship, and is regarded as without a rival in Europe except among the regalia preserved at St. Petersburg.
There are a great many diamonds owned in France among the nobility, the landed proprietors, and the successful merchants. Paris has been for a long time the chief market in the world for the sale of the gem; and most of the stones cut at Amsterdam find their way, primarily, to the Parisian bazaars. Many of these are taken as securities by the rich; but the most of them are absorbed by the requirements of fashion and the love of display.
Adventurers, during the tide of success, prefer to invest their gains in gems, and especially diamonds, rather than in lands or bonds. There is a twofold reason for this preference. Great wealth can be concealed in a handful of gems which can be easily transported; and the glitter of the stones adds vastly to the fascinations of the investment. Disastrous wars and commercial panics generally betray hoards of this description; and new sources of the precious stones are thus opened to commerce. It is reported that the Bonaparte family, since the disaster at Sedan, have thrown upon the market diamonds to the value of several millions of dollars.