Eugene Faberge’s Visit to Livadia in 1912: Delivering an Easter Egg to the Emperor

Fabergé Firm (manufacturer) and Henrik Wigström (workmaster), Imperial Tsarevich Easter Egg, 1912. Platinum, lapis lazuli, diamonds, watercolor on ivory, rock crystal. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, VA. Bequest of Lillian Thomas Pratt. Imag…

Fabergé Firm (manufacturer) and Henrik Wigström (workmaster), Imperial Tsarevich Easter Egg, 1912. Platinum, lapis lazuli, diamonds, watercolor on ivory, rock crystal. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, VA. Bequest of Lillian Thomas Pratt. Image courtesy of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. Creative Commons CC-BY-NC..

The history of Faberge’s Imperial Easter eggs has received seemingly exhaustive treatment over the years. And yet the subject is so multi-faceted that many questions deserving attention remain unanswered. The story of the presentation of the 1912 “Tsarevich” Egg, which took place in the Livadia Palace, is but one example. As a rule, the annual Easter present — which began as a single egg and grew to two eggs in 1895 — was delivered personally to the Emperor by Carl Faberge on Friday of the Holy Week. The following day, Holy Saturday, Emperor Nicholas II presented the 1st egg to his wife, then proceeded to the Anichkov Palace to deliver the 2nd egg to his mother, the Dowager Empress Maria Fedorovna.

Livadia Palace, today.

Livadia Palace, today.

One hundred and five years ago, in the spring of 1912, there was a break with tradition: the Imperial family were to spend the Easter holidays at the Imperial residence in Livadia, Crimea. At the Emperor’s request, Carl Faberge personally delivered the Napoleon Egg to the Emperor’s mother at the Anichkov Palace, while his eldest son Eugene (1874-1960), an agent of the company since his twentieth year, was dispatched to Livadia to deliver the second egg to the Emperor. Carl Faberge’s granddaughter Tatyana retains a copy of the 1934 letter from Eugene to H.C. Bainbridge, head of Faberge’s London outlet. At the time, Bainbridge was busy writing a biography of Carl Faberge, and he sought Eugene’s help in collecting historical material.

The letter contains a description of Eugene’s visit to Livadia:

Paris, 5 June, 1934

Dear Bainbridge,

 I received your letter of the 30th and the 27th of May, as well as your book “Twice Seven,” and a copy of the latest issue of “Connoisseur,” and I wish to thank you for all of it. I have read your article in the Connoisseur and found it to be impeccable and absolutely correct. I was touched by the manner in which you described the work of my father, and I am especially grateful to you for all your kind words. I doubt a professional writer could do a better job.

There is only one error: the first egg made in lapis lazuli contained not a replica of the Cruiser “Memory of Azov,” but a frame in the form of a two-headed eagle with a portrait of the Heir Alexey. The miniature was covered on both sides with a plate of rock crystal, so that one could see the boy’s face and the back of his head. Naturally, it was decorated with diamonds.

At the moment this Egg is on display at the Chicago Expo. Naturally, you must know this photograph. The egg with the “Memory of Azov” was made in jade with gold mounts in the style of Louis XV, with diamonds in the scrolls. It was made by the old man Holmstrom, who poured his whole art into the tiny ship, to make it most life-like, with moving cannons and all the tackle a perfect copy from nature. This egg (or rather its photo) appeared in the catalog of the London branch. It is with us now… even the anchor chains move.

Other descriptions are correct. Do you not think it a pity that all these beautiful things created by my father have fallen into the hands of the Jews, who are now profiteering off them? It is a great tragedy. How did they get hold of these things? Of course, I suppose they bought them off the Bolsheviks. To be sure, I expect British Jews are people of a different sort than the Russian or Polish Jews, many of whom have become American citizens, but still — a pity… What do you think?

I gather that the brothers H [Hammer — V.S.], who have lately paid you a visit, are very fine and affable people. Perhaps in the next issue of the “Connoisseur” you will publish an article about the pretty egg with the opaque mauve enamel, with the Swan, which you mention in your book.

I am sending you a catalog of Hammer’s New York collection. The Hammers had exhibited Imperial and other finery in Chicago. Here you see the Eagle with the miniature portrait of the Heir.

This egg was made in lapis lazuli in 1912 — at that time the Tsar was staying in Livadia, near Yalta, on Crimea’s southern coast. My father wanted me to deliver it in person to His Majesty. Thus, I undertook a journey across Russia in the company of my good friend, a Finn. From Sevastopol we were driven in the Tsar’s personal automobile across the beautiful Baidar Valley and along the excellent Yalta highway; the journey lasted some 4 hours, as I recall. From there, having put on fresh clothing, I was driven in the same automobile to the Livadia Palace. An attendant took me to the Emperor, who received me very warmly. We were left alone: he was delighted with father’s charming idea, and greatly impressed with the Egg. Then he took me by the arm and led me to the window, showing me a most beautiful view of Yalta and the Black Sea, as he explained various points of interest. He then asked me to convey his gratitude to my father along with most sincere regards, and I left to meet up with my friend and dine at the hotel. After the audience with His Majesty, while still at the Palace, I met the Prince Vladimir Orlov, the Tsar’s private chauffeur, who promised to drive me the following morning from Yalta to Sevastopol. The journey (i.e., the drive) was very beautiful. That same year my father, on behalf of the Emperor, delivered an egg to Maria Fedorovna, who had stayed in St. Petersburg.

 I am sending along answers to your questions. I hope you will find them satisfactory. If you need any other clarifications, please write to me. I will do my best to supply them. I am not a writer either; all I can offer are bare facts. Once more, I thank you. Yours sincerely,

[no signature]

Mr. Hammer, the younger, visited me a few months ago, and sent me some photos of our Easter eggs. If you wish, I can pass them along to you. He had spent 7 years in Soviet Russia, and speaks Russian well. To be sure, he used every opportunity to buy up artworks, icons, Faberge pieces, etc., which he is now selling…” [1]

To be sure, the lapis lazuli egg of 1912 was not the first to use this beautiful and costly stone: it had appeared in Imperial Easter eggs made in 1909 and 1910:

The Imperial Standart Egg of 1909. Photo Dmitry Korobeinikov, Sputnik.

The Imperial Standart Egg of 1909. Photo Dmitry Korobeinikov, Sputnik.

1909. Empress Alexandra Fedorovna. Standart Yacht Egg. The egg and its pedestal are of rock crystal. Dolphins and middle section of the pedestal are of lapis lazuli.

Alexander III Equestrian Egg, unknown photographer.

Alexander III Equestrian Egg, unknown photographer.

1910. Empress Maria Fedorovna. Alexander III Equestrian Egg. The egg is of rock crystal, inside a replica of the monument to Alexander III on a pedestal of lapis lazuli. [2, 192] The pedestal was made at the Peterhof Lapidary Works, for which a special dispensation had to be obtained from the Minister of the Imperial Court, since the manufactory was barred from accepting private orders.

Still, these were only distinct elements in eggs made of other materials. The first egg made entirely of lapis lazuli was, indeed, the egg of 1912. The rich color of Badakhshan lapis lazuli emphasized the maritime motif of the egg: the miniature, painted by V. Zuev, pictred the Tsarevich in naval uniform, as the child was enrolled in the Naval Guards Corps since his birth on August 11, 1904.

The provenance of the 1912 Imperial egg is documented in literature: [1, 208]

  • Livadia Palace, 1912. In the spring of 1912 the Imperial family once again remained in Crimea for several months, returning to St. Petersburg on June 10, 1912. 

  • The Empress Alexandra Fedorovna’s Maple Room at the Alexander Palace, 1912-1917.

  • September 16-20, 1917 — transferred from St. Petersburg to the Armory Chamber, Moscow.

  • February-March, 1922 — transferred to the Foreign Currency Directorate of the NarKomFin.

  • June 17, 1927 — Returned to the Armory Chamber of the Moscow Kremlin and assigned inventory number 17547.

  • June 21, 1930 — Transferred to the foreign trade organization Antikvariat, to be sold to Armand Hammer. [2, 208] Hammer claimed in his book that he paid 100,000 rub ($50,000) for the egg. In reality, it sold for a mere 8,000 rub ($4,000). [3, 80]

The Imperial Eggs displayed in their cabinet in the Maple Room at the Alexander Palace. The Tsesarevich Egg is on the first shelf, at right of the Standart Egg.

The Imperial Eggs displayed in their cabinet in the Maple Room at the Alexander Palace. The Tsesarevich Egg is on the first shelf, at right of the Standart Egg.

In 1927 a commission headed by Prof. S.N. Troinitsky, director of the Hermitage, academician A.E. Fersman, gemologist A.F. Kotler, diamonds specialist Dmitriev, jeweler Krivtsov and accountant Bedrit, undertook a valuation of the 1912 Egg for potential sale through Antikvariat:

“Weight: 574.2g; dimensions: 12.1 x 8.7cm; eagle 9.8 x 5.7cm; table diamonds 1 car — 60 rub; diamond 0.8 car — 100-80 rub; lapis lazuli — 200 rub; gold — 200 rub; 1,835 rose-cut diamonds at 1.25 rub each — 2,293.75 rub; glass — 1 rub.25; ivory — 6 rub.

Total cost of materials — 2,841 rub. Labor 25%. Total materials and labor — 3,551.25 rub. “Antique” markup coefficient — 4. Minimum price in the 1st category — 14,205 rub.” [4, 10]

The “antique” coefficient was applied in valuations of artworks by masters no longer living, who, in consequence, could not reproduce their work. The markup, moreover, took into account the historical significance of the piece, which had belonged to the last Russian Emperor.

It should be noted that the actual price of the Egg in 1912 was 15,800 rub. [5, 40] The experts valued the labor at 25% of the cost of the materials — a very low valuation. They, moreover, completely failed to take into account the value of the original idea, design, technical drawing, project and shop supervision. This is in contrast to the value placed on artistic work by Faberge. Such principals as the chief workmaster and artistic director Franz Birbaum or Ivan Antoni (supervisor for Imperial commissions) received a monthly salary of no less than 250-300 rub. As Franz Birbaum notes in his memoirs of 1919, the work on Imperial Easter eggs went on for a full year. “Begun shortly after Easter, they would scarcely be ready by Holy Week. They were then presented personally to the Emperor by the head of the firm on Friday of Holy Week.” [6,19] Evidently, workmasters on such a commission would stand to receive a year’s worth of salary. Vasiliy Zuev could earn at least 300 rub. for his two-sided miniature (face and back of head). The experts also failed to note that the diamond eagle is made not of gold but of platinum, which cost twice or three times as much as gold, while the application of diamonds to platinum should be valued higher, as the work is more difficult. Even at the labor rate of 25% of the cost of material, the application of 1,835 rose-cut diamonds would mean 460 rub for that work alone. Costs associated with the assay control process are likewise ignored, along with other overhead costs, such as delivery to Crimea. It seems that the commission did not consult any of the master jewelers, who had worked for Faberge and knew the prices commanded by the workshops of Wigstrom, Kremlev and Holmstrom. These were often two to three times higher than the rates offered by other workshops in St. Petersburg. The price of 8,000 rub. in gold that Armand Hammer paid to Antikvariat in 1930 is, in fact, close to the item’s actual cost of production: it is just over half the amount (15,800 rub.), which the Emperor paid to Faberge.

Until quite recently, cautious readers gave little credence to the intuition of certain researchers concerning the authorship of miniatures in Imperial Easter eggs. The painter of the miniature in the 1912 Tsarevich Egg was considered unknown. In September of 2013, T. Muntyan, research associate at the Kremlin Armory, published a paper that included excerpts from the Faberge Accounts book [7, 140], discovered in 2006 in the Russian State Archive. These excerpts — descriptions of the Imperials Easter eggs of 1912, 1913 and 1914 — were subsequently republished in an antiques journal. [8, 77] In September of 2014 we were able to publish in “Russian Jeweler” descriptions of these same eggs that listed Vasiliy Zuev as the painter of the miniatures included in four of those eggs [9, 7]:

“24/III 12. LARGE EGG in the style of L[ouis] XIV in lapis lazuli, ornam[ented] with ch[ased] mat[te] g[old], 1 bril[liant] and 1 l[arge] rose. Inside two-headed eagle in plat[inum] with 1871 r[oses] and a two-s[ided] miniature of HIH the Heir Tsesarevich, by Zuev… 15,800 [rub].” [5, 40]

The collection catalog of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts for 1995 contains the following description of the 1912 Egg, written by the curator David Patrick Curry:

Fabergé Firm (manufacturer) and Henrik Wigström (workmaster), Imperial Tsarevich Easter Egg miniature, 1912. Platinum, lapis lazuli, diamonds, watercolor on ivory, rock crystal. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, VA. Bequest of Lillian Thomas P…

Fabergé Firm (manufacturer) and Henrik Wigström (workmaster), Imperial Tsarevich Easter Egg miniature, 1912. Platinum, lapis lazuli, diamonds, watercolor on ivory, rock crystal. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, VA. Bequest of Lillian Thomas Pratt. Image courtesy of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. Creative Commons CC-BY-NC.

“The original double-sided miniature with a watercolor portrait has suffered damage and is still in the collection of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. The current portrait on display is an archival photograph. Inside the egg, an engraved golden disc with a rose window design serves as a platform for the portrait frame.”

The miniature portrait of the Tsarevich in naval uniform survived, but in damaged form, which led the Museum to replace the original watercolor miniature on ivory with an archival photo. [10, 81-81] The miniature is unsigned. [10, 78]

The Museum is perfectly frank about the location of the original miniature. They have replaced it with a photo so as not to disappoint their visitors. Curiously, the curator writes that the painter of the miniature is not known. At the same time, the name of Vasiliy Zuev did not come to light until the publication of the original invoice by T. Muntyan in late 2013.

The stand is lost, but is known from a 1953 publication by K.A. Snowman. [11, ill. 336, 337, 388] and is similar to the stand for the 1911 “Fifteenth Anniversary” egg.

Only one other example of this type of double-sided miniature — face and back of head — is know from that period: seven portraits of the children of Alexander II and Maria Alexandrovna, artist unknown (ca. 1860s). [12, 52]

Western scholars have misinterpreted the artistic conceit of the Egg, supposing that it references the miraculous recovery of the Tsarevich following a hemophilic crisis that occurred in the fall of 1911, while the family resided at the Spala Imperial Lodge in Poland. The boy, it is said, came very close to dying, but ultimately recovered. In reality, this crisis took place in the fall of 1912. We can only conjecture about the event this egg was meant to commemorate. There was one major anniversary in 1912 — it marked the Empress’s 40th birthday — but the Empress would presumably wish to avoid any allusion to that date. It is well known that the design for each egg was developed by Carl Faberge and his creative team. “These drawings (for Imperial Easter eggs) were never submitted for approval. Faberge had complete creative freedom,” noted Franz Birbaum, who had personally saw half of all the eggs through the production stage. [6, 18] While we have no cause (or right) to complain about the design of the Tsarevich egg, we still want to know what meaning or mystery lies at its foundation.

A few words about Lillian Thomas Pratt (1876-1947), wife of a General Motors executive and one of Armand Hammer’s five American clients. Pratt was an avid collector of Faberge from 1933 through 1946, with a collection comprising some 150 individual pieces, from Imperial Easter eggs to a brass ashtray. In 1947 she bequeathed her collection, which included 5 Imperial Easter eggs to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. This is the third largest collection of Imperial Easter eggs, after those of the Kremlin Armory in Moscow and the Faberge Museum in St. Petersburg.

It would be worthwhile to continue research into Eugene Faberge’s visit to Livadia, and to discover the significance of the design of the Tsarevich Egg. Which stone carver carved the lapis lazuli egg (was it Petr Kremnev?), and who made the platinum eagle with diamonds (Holmstrom’s workshop?). What was the production cost of the egg? Who is the Finn that accompanied Faberge on his trip to Livadia? Could it have been Henrik Wigstrom? We must find the paperwork documenting Armand Hammer’s dealings with Antikvariat in 1930-33. How did the miniature portrait of the Tsarevich come to be damaged? And there are many more questions of varying significance and specialization, which can shed light on the relationship between the Imperial family and the jeweler Carl Faberge.

 

References 

1.     Arkhiv Tatiany Faberzhe. «Delo Perepiska E.K. Faberzhe. Raznoye. 1930-e gg» [The Archives оf Tatiana Fabergé. Case «Correspondence оf E.K. Faberge. Different. 1930]. 

2.     Fabergé T., Proler L.G., Skurlov V.V. The Fabergé Imperial Easter Eggs. London: Christie’s, 1997. 272 p. 

3.     Hammer Armand. The Quest of Romanoff Treasure. New York: William Farkuhar Payson, 1932. 184 p. ill. 

4.     Otdel pis’mennyh i arhivnyh istochnikov GMZ «Moskovskii Kreml’» [Department of written and archive materials of state reserve museum «Moscow Kremlin»], f. 20, op. 1927 year, d. 20. 

5.     Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii (GA RF) [State archive of Russian Fedration], f. 1463, op. 3, d. 3194. 

6.     Birbaum F. Kamenno-reznoye delo. yuvelirnoye i zoloto-serebryanoye proizvodstvo firmy Faberzhe (rukopis 1919 g.) [Stone- carved case, jeweler and gold and silver production at Faberge (manuscript 1919)]. Istoriya firmy Faberzhe [The history of Faberge]. Published by T.F. Faberzhe and V.V. Skurlov. Saint Petersburg, Russkiye samotsvety Publ., 1993, 102 p. 

7.     Muntjan T.N. Proizvedenia firmy Karla Faberzhe v sisteme pridvornogo byta konca XIX – nachala XX vekov [Masterpieces of Faberge in system of court life, end of the XIX – beginning of the XX centuries]. Dinastia Romanovyh v kul’ture i iskusstve Rossii i Zapadnoi Evropy. Istoriia i sovremennost’: materialy mezhdunarodnoi nauchno-prakticheskoi konferencii. Perm’ – Cherdyn’ – Nyrob [Romanov’s House in culture and art of Russia and Western Europe. History and modernity: materials of international theoretical and practical conference. Perm – Cherdyn – Nyrob]. Perm, 2013, pp. 132–145. 

8.     Muntjan, T. Simvoly ischeznuvshei imperii [Symbols of the extinct empire]. Antikvariat, predmety iskusstva i kollekcionirovania [Antiques, items of art and collecting], 2013, no. 12 (112), pp. 74–79.

9.     Krivoshei D., Skurlov V., Faberzhe T. Buhgalterskaja kniga Faberzhe za 1910–1916 gg. [General ledger of 1910–1916 years]. Russkii Juvelir [Russian Jeweler], 2014, no. 3, pp. 6–7. 

10.  David Park Curry. Faberge. Virginia Museum of Fine arts. Washington: University of Washington Press, 1995. 118 р.

11.  Snowman A.K. The Art of Carl Fabergé. London: Faber and Faber Ltd., 1953. 168 р.

12.  Christie’s Fine Russian Works of Art. Geneva. April 12. 1988, No 86. Sem’ portretov detei Aleksandra i Marii Aleksandrovny, khudozhnik neizvesten [Seven portraits of the children of Alexander and Maria Alexandrovna, artist unknown].

13.  Faberge Eggs: A Retrospective Encyclopedia (Hardback). By (author) Christel Ludewig McCanless, by (author) Will Lowes. Lanham, Mariland, and London: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 2001. 286 p. 

 

 

 

Eight Rules for Discovering Fabergé Imperial Eggs and their Surprises

By Anna and Vincent Palmade (Independent Researchers, USA)

 

Vincent and Anna Palmade, New York, 2017

Vincent and Anna Palmade, New York, 2017

This article is drawn from a talk made by the Palmade at the Fabergé Symposium which took place in Richmond, Virginia, on July 27, 2018.  It presents eight Rules which enabled the many important recent discoveries made regarding the famous Fabergé Imperial Easter eggs and the surprises contained within them. These discoveries concern five Imperial eggs (out of fifty delivered) and five surprises as listed below:

Recent Egg Discoveries

1989: Flower Basket Egg identified in the British Royal Collection

2004: Resurrection Egg attributed as the surprise of the Renaissance Egg

2007: Third Imperial Egg and Cherub with Chariot Egg spotted in old photograph

2008: Revised Fabergé Imperial egg chronology

2008: First picture of Nécessaire Egg found in old Wartski exhibition photograph 

2011: Picture and detailed description of Third Imperial Egg found in old catalogue

2013: Twelve Monogram Egg’s missing surprise uncovered in old catalogue

2014: Third Imperial Egg rediscovered

2015: Diamond Trellis Egg’s surprise found in the British Royal Collection

2015: Item 10 on the “Gatchina List” identifies missing Empire Nephrite Egg 

2017: Rose Trellis Egg’s lost surprise found in old photograph

2017: Nécessaire Egg’s clearest image to date found on the Internet

2017: Clover Egg’s missing surprise identified in old photograph

Before discussing each of the eight Rules, we need to acknowledge that these discoveries have been fueled by two seminal publications The Fabergé Imperial Easter Eggs (Fabergé, Proler, & Skurlov, 1997) and Fabergé Eggs: A Retrospective Encyclopedia (Lowes & McCanless, 2001) There are several wonderful websites, including “Annemiek’s Eggs” and “Fabergé Research” which allow a growing number of Fabergé enthusiasts to stay informed and connected, and exchange discoveries — as each new discovery builds on the previous ones, we will now discuss these through the prism of our eight Rules.

 

Rule 1: Break the Rule

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Breaking the rule was the key to the famous discovery of the no-longer-missing Third Imperial Egg (1887[1]) authenticated in 2014 by Kieran McCarthy (Joint Managing Director of Wartski, the renowned Fabergé dealer in London).  This egg would not have been found unless Jeffrey Eger, a dealer of antique auction catalogues, had not broken the rule stating that he would not sell us catalogues with fewer than five Fabergé objects in them. Jeffrey applied Rule 1 in July 2011 when he sold us the March 6, 1964 Parke-Bernet catalog which listed only three Fabergé objects – it turned out to be four, still short of the “rule of five”. The fourth object, lot 259, was the missing Third Imperial Egg. It went unnoticed at the 1964 auction because, lacking Fabergémarks (like the 1885 First Hen Egg), it was not described as Fabergé – but rather, as a “Gold watch in egg-form case…by Vacheron Constantin”. Fortunately, and probably because of its beauty, the catalogue did feature a good picture of it (very few lots were pictured in catalogues at the time) which allowed us to match it to the rather indistinct egg-shaped object we had found in October 2007 in the 1902 von Dervis Exhibition vitrine of the Fabergé Imperial eggs belonging to Maria Feodorovna.[2]The good picture and detailed catalog description of the Third Imperial Egg led the unsuspecting anonymous owner, who googled “egg” and “Vacheron Constantin,” to the Sunday Telegraph article reporting our discovery of the egg in the 1964 Catalogue entitled “Is this £20 million egg on your mantelpiece?”[3]It turned out the egg was in his kitchen cabinet. 

Rule 2: Use your Magnifying Glass

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This fundamental rule led to many discoveries.  The first one happened in 1989, when George Terrell Jr. (Professor of history and geography at Gadsden College, Alabama) recognized, in the 1902 von Dervis picture of the vitrine containing the Imperial eggs belonging to Alexandra Feodorovna, the Flower Basket Egg (1901) from the British Royal Collection which, until then, was not thought to be an Imperial Fabergé egg[4].  Rule 2 also led us, on the same October 2007 night and in the same 1902 picture where we found the Third Imperial Egg, to the first image (a blurry reflection in the vitrine’s glass) of the still missing Cherub with Chariot Egg (1888) which had been hiding behind the Caucasus Egg (1893) in the picture since 1902[5].  Most recently and as discussed immediately below, Rule 2 (in combination with Rule 3) was used to devastating good effect to find the first known pictures of two missing surprises.   

Rule 3: Look Again

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The missing surprise of the Rose Trellis Egg (1907) 'diamond chain with medallion and miniature of HIH Grand Duke and Tsarevich Alexei Nicholaevich' was identified, using Rule 2, by Fabergéegg enthusiast Greg Daubney in October 2017[6]. A few weeks later, Annemiek Wintraecken (host of the Mieks FabergéEggs website and with many major egg discoveries to her name – including the 2008 revised Fabergé Imperial egg chronology) applied Rule 3 and found another missing Imperial Fabergé egg surprise in the same picture! Annemiek tells her story on her website: “While working on the identification of the possible surprise to the Rose Trellis Egg, I noticed the Empress in the same photo wearing a brooch or pin that resembled a four-leaf clover. Imperial Egg lovers know what that means, the surprise to the Clover Leaf Egg (1902). Could it be? Or is this just too good to be true? On the other hand, the same goes here as with the Rose Trellis Medallion, how many four-leaf clover jewels with miniatures could the Empress have had in 1908? And was she not only wearing a portrait of her only son, but of all her five children that day in June 1908?”[7] Annemiek’s journey is also related in Dr. Ulla Tillander’s latest book full of new and fascinating information about Fabergé[8].

 

Rule 4: Have a Glass of Wine while Surfing the Internet

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Rule 4 was successfully applied in 2017 by Kelly Bond (Fabergéegg enthusiast from the UK) who discovered the best picture to date of the missing Nécessaire Egg (1889) thanks to “a little googling over a glass of wine” as reported by the Daily Mail[9]. The origin of the picture is not yet known, but its quality has reignited the hunt for this egg, which is known to have survived the Russian Revolution. Kelly Bond’s discovery was made possible by her knowledge of Kieran McCarthy’s earlier discovery, using Rule 2, of the Nécessaire Egg lying hidden at the bottom of a vitrine in a picture of the 1949 Wartski Exhibition[10].  This is another case of one discovery leading to another – hence the importance of sharing and publishing information.


Rule 5: Check out your Display Cabinet

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Caroline de Guitaut (Curator of the British Royal Collection) found in 2015 the missing elephant automaton surprise of the Diamond Trellis Egg (1892) by applying Rule 5 to one of the many display cabinets of the British Royal Collection. The elephant had gone unnoticed because of the lack of apparent Fabergé marks – Caroline de Guitaut recognized it thanks to her recollection of the description of the Diamond Trellis Egg surprise in the Fabergé invoice.  Caroline de Guitaut subsequently discovered the Fabergé marks within the tower on the back of the elephant, which put her discovery beyond doubt.[11]The elephant has been reunited with its egg in the McFerrin collection in Houston for a one-year period and both are reported to be getting along just fine as can be seen in the picture below.  


Rule 6: Play with your Fabergé Collection

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Christopher “Kip” Forbes (Vice Chairman of the Forbes Publishing Company) found the missing surprise of the Renaissance Egg (1894) while indulging with Rule 6 in 2004 just before parting with his stunning Fabergécollection assembled by his late father, the fame Malcom Forbes, and which is now in the FabergéMuseum in St Petersburg. As “Kip” was handling the Resurrection and Renaissance Eggs, he discovered that the former fit perfectly within the latter, suggesting that the Resurrection Egg might indeed be the missing surprise of the Renaissance Egg.  “Kip“ supported his theory by pointing out that both eggs were in the same Renaissance style and that the five pearls present on the Resurrection Egg resolved the mystery of the pearls mentioned on the Fabergé invoice being absent from the Renaissance Egg itself.  “Kip” also noticed that both eggs were at the 1902 von Dervis exhibition in the vitrine showing the Fabergé Imperial eggs belonging to Maria Feodorovna with the surprises separated from the eggs[12]

Rule 7: Play with your Legos

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Rule 7 can be very useful as a less onerous and risky alternative to Rule 6.  This is the rule our son Boris used to reproduce a replica of the folding screen depicted in Carl Fabergé: Goldsmith to the Imperial Court of Russiaby Kenneth Snowman, the late Chairman of Wartski, using the dimensions indicated in the book[13].  Although that folding screen matched perfectly the description in the Fabergéinvoice of the missing surprise of Hillwood’s Twelve Monogram Egg (1896), a physical fitting try was in order to be sure. Like Cinderella’s foot, Boris’ Lego replica fit perfectly the Twelve Monogram Egg (1896), showing that the folding screen was indeed its surprise.  Additional (and more academic) evidence in support of this discovery can be found in the article we wrote for the 2018 Fabergé Rediscoveredcatalogue edited by Wilfried Zeisler, Chief Curator of Hillwood Museum in Washington DC[14], where the Twelve Monogram Egg awaits its surprise, last seen publicly at Christie’s in Geneva in 1980.  In the meantime, Hillwood produced a beautiful 3D printed replica of the surprise published here for the first time with their authorization. The picture on the left shows how the folded 3D replica screen fit perfectly within the egg, while the picture on the right shows the unfolded 3D replica screen with the shadows of the six portraits of Alexander III it once contained. 

Rule 8: Restore your Imperial Egg Carefully

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If past owners of the Empire Nephrite Egg (1902) had applied this rule, the authenticity of the egg might not have once been contested. This egg surfaced in 1995, it fit the description for the Empire Nephrite Egg in the Fabergé invoice[15]but was missing the miniature within the frame. Previous owners placed a miniature of Alexander III using a description mistakenly associated with the Empire Nephrite Egg at that time[16]. The result of this misguided and undisclosed restoration was cumbersome (the miniature of Alexander III did not fit well as can be seen in the left picture below) leaving many Fabergé experts perplexed. But in 2015, it was realized that item 10 on the “Gatchina List” (an inventory of Maria Feodorovna’s objects made in 1917 at the Gatchina Palace - found by Preben Ulstrup, renowned biographer of Maria Feodorovna, and first displayed and published in 2013[17]) matched both the Empire Nephrite Egg and the rediscovered egg: “Egg with gold mounts on two columns from nephrite, inside portraits of Olga Alexandrovna and Prince P.A. Oldenburg” (the original Russian text is pictured below). This egg is listed among seven Fabergé Imperial eggs (including three which are still missing!) and clearly celebrates the wedding of Olga and Peter in August 1901 – it also fits the Fabergé invoice description as well as the egg pictured below with which it shares the unique feature of being “on two columns”.  We are part of the team which believes this is the 1902 Nephrite Empire Egg based on extensive and recently published research[18].  Above on the right is the egg as it is today following a fully reversible restoration. 

 

Conclusion

The tireless application of these Eight Rules by a growing number of Fabergé professionals and enthusiasts has only left six (out of fifty delivered) Fabergé Imperial eggs and ten of their surprises (or part of surprises) left to be discovered. Furthermore, the application of these rules has brought to the surface precious new information about these missing eggs and surprises which should greatly increase their chances of being rediscovered as indicated below. 

 

What is left to be discovered (and the clues)

1886 Hen Egg with Sapphire (written description)

1888 Cherub with Chariot Egg (sketch based on blurry reflection)

1889 Nécessaire Egg (good picture - survived Russian revolution and WWII)

1897 Mauve Egg (in “Gatchina List” - surprise extant)

1903 Royal Danish Egg (Fabergé picture and in “Gatchina List”)

1909 Alexander III Commemorative Egg (Fabergé picture and in “Gatchina List”)

AND


Ten missing surprises or parts of surprises:

1885 First Hen Egg - Crown and ruby egg pendant (picture)
1895 Rosebud Egg -Crown and ruby egg pendant (picture)

1896 Twelve Monogram Egg – Six miniatures of Alexander III (picture of frame)
1897 Coronation Egg -Emerald pendant egg in coach (written description)

1899 Madonna Lily Clock Egg - Ruby pendant egg (picture)
1900 Cockerel Egg -Pearl decorating the swag of the dial (picture)

1902 Clover Leaf Egg - Four-leaf clover with four miniatures (picture)

1902 Empire Nephrite Egg – Original miniature of Olga and Peter


1907 Love Trophies Egg - Miniature of Imperial children (written description)
1907 Rose Trellis Egg -Diamond necklace with medallion of Alexei (picture)

So the hunt goes on!

Notes:

[1]Annemiek Wintraecken first associated this Egg with the missing 1887 Egg as part of her new Egg chronology discovery (November 2008)

[2]CfOur November 2007 article

[3]Cf The Sunday Telegraph article

[4]Lowes, Will & Christel McCanless, Fabergé Eggs: A Retrospective Encyclopedia,London, 2001, p. 77

[5]CfOur November 2007 article

[6]Cf The full story

[7]http://www.wintraecken.nl/mieks/faberge/research/1902-Clover-Leaf-Egg-Surprise.htm

[8]Tillander, Ulla, Fabergéhis masters and artisans, London, 2018, p. 132

[9]Cf. 29 December, 2017, Daily Mail

[10]https://fabergeresearch.com/eggs-recent-discoveries/

[11]Cf. The full story here.

[12]Christopher Forbes’ discovery is related in von Habsburg, Géza,Fabergé; Treasures from Imperial Russia,Link of Times Foundation, 2004, p. 121

[13]Snowman, Kenneth, Carl Fabergé: Goldsmith to the Imperial Court of Russia, London, 1979, p. 56

[14]Palmade, Anna and Vincent, The Twelve Monograms Egg’s Missing Surprise Identified, Ziesler, Wilfried (ed.), Fabergé Rediscovered, Washington D.C., 2018, p. 161

[15]Fabergé, Tatiana, Lynette Proler, & Valentin Skurlov,The Fabergé Imperial Easter Eggs, London, 1997, p. 159

[16]op. cit.

[17]Ulstrup, Preben, Fashion and Style of the Court of Empress Maria Feodorovna, Mironenko, Sergei (ed.), Russian Empresses Fashion and Style,the State Archive of the Russian Federation (GARF), Moscow, 2013, P. 373 

[18]Nicholson, Nicholas (ed.), Tatiana Fabergé, et. al., Fabergé: The Imperial “Empire” Egg of 1902, 2017

Franz Birbaum's Memoirs, 1919, Part II

Regimental Desk Clock presented by the officers of the Imperial Horse Guards to Grand Duke Pavel Aleksandrovich, marked Fabergé in Cyrillic with Imperial warrant for Moscow; 88 silver standard; crossed anchors for St. Petersburg; IP for Julius Rappa…

Regimental Desk Clock presented by the officers of the Imperial Horse Guards to Grand Duke Pavel Aleksandrovich, marked Fabergé in Cyrillic with Imperial warrant for Moscow; 88 silver standard; crossed anchors for St. Petersburg; IP for Julius Rappaport. Catalog number: 12.153, Bequest of Marjorie Merriweather Post, 1973. Photo: Hillwood Museum & Gardens,

Substantial orders were executed for the Guards Regiments, in the form of presents to Officers’Assemblies from patrons and commanders on occasion of jubilees or of presents given by Officers’ Assemblies to commanders and officers upon their retirement. The articles concerned were bratina (loving cups), charka(goblets), vases, clocks, candlesticks, sculptured groups and sometimes icons. The clients nearly always insisted that the regiments’ attributes should play a predominant part in the composition and demanded that they should be executed in detail. This imposed severe constraints on the designers and often marred the artistic value of the articles — explaining why many of the orders are so absurd, for instance, bratinain the form of kettle-drums or upended helmets and shakos. When the placing of orders was entrusted to an officer with some taste and artistic knowledge, a common language could be found and unduly inappropriate attributes could be avoided or relegated to the background.

But when the orders were placed by the senior staff or went through the Officers’ Assembly, where every officer could voice his own opinion, then the artistic aspect inevitably suffered from their interference.

When the topics related to episodes from the history of an individual regiment or to ancient weapons or uniforms, the compositions were not lacking in artistic interest.

Such were the two bas-reliefs made for the Moscow Regiment, the first depicting an episode from the war of 1812, and the second a battle of the Turkish campaign.

The sketches were drawn by Samokish, the modelling was executed by the sculptor Strich, and I was responsible for the sketches of the frames and light-brackets.

Similar Fabergé works are to be found in nearly all the Officers’ Assemblies of the Petrograd Regiments. A series of light-brackets and candlesticks in the Empire style with figures of Uhlans both in the original and the contemporary uniforms was manufactured for the Uhlan Regiment.

Orders by civil institutions and departments were placed in much the same way, the sole difference being that military attributes were replaced by civilian ones.

During the last decade, our clientele from the worlds of finance and commerce — stock exchange, sugar, oil and other magnates — acquired great significance. I must say that it was incomparably easier and more pleasant to work with them: nearly all of them were gifted with practical good sense, had no pretensions to artistic initiative and did not impose their ideas and designs.

They rightly assumed that a designer was a specialist on the same level as an engineer or a book-keeper, and that any directive could only be harmful when ordering a present, they very often did not even define any kind of article, but only specified its maximum price, the intended recipient and the occasion of the presentation. In these circumstances, the artist could work without any limitations on his creativity. That is very important and he could feel that he bore full responsibility for his creations. That is no less important.

Some of these clients placed orders for complete sets of table silver, from surtouts de table to small objects and cutlery (spoons, forks, etc.) in the style of the dining room itself. Some examples are: the table silverware made for V.K. Kelkh (née Bazanova) and a nephrite writing-table set in the Empire style made for Eliseev.

One of the oil magnates (E. Nobel) was famous for his lavish gifts — indeed, giving them sometimes seemed to be his sole occupation and pleasure. Several of his orders were always in the process of execution in our workshops and he came to look at them from time to time. Very often a present found its destination only after it was finished, and when the workshops were closed, some of his orders remained incomplete.

The Fabergé “Fire Worshippers” clock made for Branobel in celebration of extracting of 1 billion pud of crude oil. Fabergé, St Petersburg 1908-1917 with Silver mountings by Karl Gustaf Hjalmar Armfelt, with Faberge and 88 zolotniki with marks for Mo…

The Fabergé “Fire Worshippers” clock made for Branobel in celebration of extracting of 1 billion pud of crude oil. Fabergé, St Petersburg 1908-1917 with Silver mountings by Karl Gustaf Hjalmar Armfelt, with Faberge and 88 zolotniki with marks for Moscow, Photo: Bukowskis Auktioner, sold June 1, 2006.

Among the most noteworthy of his numerous orders is a large mantelpiece clock in a stone reproduction of a temple of fire-worshippers. Flames in the corner towers were represented by hollow pieces of rhodonite illuminated from inside with small electric bulbs. The temple was placed on a rock, at the foot of which stood two high-relief allegorical figures of Trade and Industry. The clock was made after a drawing by the artist E. Jacobson.

Finally, a large vase in rhodonite supported by two figures of stolniki(the Tsar’s butlers) in costumes of the period of Alexei Mikhailovich, and a round table in nephrite with silver caryatids in the Empirestyle were executed after my sketches.

E. Nobel was a great admirer of the goldsmith’s art and had a special predilection for enamels: some of his orders were for huge articles in painted enamels on gold.

One of the rock crystal and diamond-set Nobel Ice Pendants.

One of the rock crystal and diamond-set Nobel Ice Pendants.

A series of small pieces of jewellery in rock crystal with frost-like patterns in tiny brilliants was also interesting.

We cannot pass by the most profitable clientele which, as anybody can guess, was the demi-monde, from ballet dancers to gypsies and down, and with special accent on jewellery.

Women have always been, and will always be, the chief consumers of jewellery: how many fortunes and estates they have converted into pearls and diamonds!

In established households, family jewels pass from one generation to another, and many people even avoid remodeling them, but the contrary may be observed in the modern world which lives only for the present day, with no roots in the past, and with no future: with some rare exceptions, gifts are not connected with cherished memories (the contrary may indeed be true), and after a while gems are removed from their settings and are mounted in new, larger and fashionable articles, so that one piece of jewelry may contain both a pearl given by an ardent admirer and diamonds presented by an old protector. Just as dim memories of various once dear persons are blended together in these women’s souls, so are their images in the brilliance of their ornamental gemstones. The stage world also teems with interesting personalities, such as the singer F..., who used to visit the shop before his benefit performances to choose presents for himself, telling the salesmen to foist them on his admirers the following day. To give him his due, he bargained furiously, thus protecting the admirers’ interests.

 

(A CHAPTER WITHOUT A TITLE)

C. Faberge was famous for his wit and was quite merciless to fops, whom he hated.

On one occasion, soon after the New Year celebrations, he was visited by Prince G..., who fell into that category and took great pride in his stars and ribbons. The Prince started talking about the New Year's awards, in order to boast that he had been awarded the order of the White Eagle, and added carelessly, «Imagine, even have no idea what for.» He expected Faberge to shower him with congratulations and praise for his merits, but the jeweler only smiled and replied, «Indeed, your Highness, I too have no idea what for».

For the sake of a witticism, he would not spare himself or like- minded people. The sugar magnate K... once complained, «Year after year, I only incur losses.» «Yes, yes», was the answer, «year after year we incur losses, but it is strange how the losses add to our wealth!» During the year of the Tsarevich's birth, while we were discussing the plans for the annual Easter egg, in order to connect the theme with the occasion, somebody pointed out that since the Heir became patron of the Rifle Regiments from the day of his birth, that fact could be involved in the composition. «Yes», Faberge agreed, «but we'll have to represent his soiled swaddling clothes,since for the time being they are the only results of his rifle practices».

When Faberge took orders personally, he was usually in a hurry and would soon forget the details. He would then interrogate all his staff, looking for the person who had been nearest to him when he had talked to the client, and would wonder how it was possible that a person who, had been so near could remember nothing. That was the reason for a saying among the staff: «The responsible one is the bystander, not the one who takes the order».

Sometimes his haste had curious consequences. Instead of detailed drawings, he occasionally submitted to workshops rough sketches for execution in which half of a symmetric object was drawn in one style and the other half in another, to allow for a choice between two variants: in several cases, objects were made according to the sketch through an oversight on the part of the master.

Once, when the prayer “Отче наш [Our Father]” had to be engraved on the back of an icon, he carefully inscribed the lettering of the first two words, followed by “…and so forth,” instead of the full text of the prayer. The engraver meticulously carved the words “Our Father… and so forth.” “Well, well”, remarked Carl Faberge, “if only our priests had hit upon the idea to make their services shorter”.

In view of the enormous number of articles manufactured, it was difficult to determine the artist who had executed an object simply by looking at it, without reference to a drawing.

When Faberge happened to notice an unsuccessful article, he would send for me and make derisive and ironical remarks about the unknown author to his heart’s content; in cases where I had reason to suspect that the author was none other than himself, I would send for the sketch and show it to him. Then he would smile guiltily and say, «Since there is nobody to scold me, I have to do it myself».

In the times of Gustav Faberge, a member of the Imperial Family who was greatly interested in the jeweler’s craft wanted to learn it applied to Faberge with a request for a list of all the necessary tools and equipment. The old master craftsman to whom the task was entrusted was very eccentric andincluded “a flat strap of sufficient thickness” in the list of tools, among the mallets, burins and chisels.

The client noticed that item, but could not understand how a strap could be used in jewelry work. The old man replied to his question, “Your Highness, it is the first and most indispensable instrument, no apprentice has ever been taught the jewelry art without it” — a brief and truthful illustration of the educational system of the time.

Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna patronized foreign jewelers more than any other member of the Imperial Family. They made use of her omnipotent protection and traded both here and in Moscow without paying customs duties and assay taxes. This fraud was revealed and proved by some of the Petrograd jewelers, who managed to have the pieces of jewelry concerned sequestered until the legal duties were paid.

FOREIGN TRADE

The beginning of properly organized trade dates back to 1900, the time of the World Exhibition in Paris. Before then, many of our articles were sent abroad occasionally, as presents or as purchases made in Russia or through middlemen.

These objects include an ornamental vase presented to Prince Bismarck, a large silver bratina given to Negus Menelik of Abyssinia and many other gifts from the Russian Emperors to foreign Courts and diplomats.

The success of our jewellery articles at the Paris Exhibition gave reason to hope for sales on a larger scale, and since the targeted clientele was mainly in London, it was decided to establish a branch there.

The chief clients were King Edward (VII) and the court aristocracy. The steady increase of the circle of purchasers of our articles could not escape the notice of English jewelers and goldsmiths, who hastened to take steps to protect their interests. It should be noted that although there were no import duties on these goods in England, the gold hallmarking regulations allowed for a wide range of interpretations. And the observance of these regulations was zealously controlled by the (Worshipful) Company of Goldsmiths. At first the English assay offices contented themselves with checking the Russian hallmarks by subjecting the articles to new analyses. This naturally imposed no constraint on us, particularly since we deliberately kept our assays slightly higher than those required by law. But later, under pressure from the Company, they began insisting on the stamping of English hallmarks, and these requirements threatened our trade with such serious complications that the firm, after consulting with English jurists, brought the case to Court. It must be noted that the seemingly harmless requirement of stamping English hallmarks meant that every article we wanted to sell in England had to travel there and back twice; a hallmark must be stamped on a semi-finished article, because the blow of the stamp inevitably distorts the object and necessitates corrections.

Moreover, in the case of enamel work, which predominated in our output, the stamping blow always caused the enamel to spring away from the metal. Accordingly, every article had to be sent to England in a semi-finished form, then returned to Russia for completion and finally exported again for sale. But that was not all, since it could not be foreseen exactly what articles would be sold in London; all our works had to be hallmarked in England in order to ensure a sufficient choice of goods.

The lawsuit dragged on for more than a year, and as might have been expected, the outcome was not in our favour.

The requirements of English hallmarking regulations remained in force, and although the firm attempted to proceed with its activities in London even under those conditions, it soon became evident that this could only lead to losses. The European war put an end to the affair and hastened the closure of the London branch.

The London shop sold not only to an English clientèle, but served as a center of our trade with France, America and the Far East. Representatives of the London branch travelled to these countries, delivering goods and receiving orders which were transmitted to Saint Petersburg. The especially wide success of gold and enameled articles and also large-scale silverware may be explained by the technical perfection of our handwork.

For a long time now, foreign manufacturers have replaced hand work by machining in all suitable and unsuitable cases, at the obvious expense of durability and careful workmanship. Foreign connoisseurs could not but notice the qualities distinguishing our handwork, in which even the most discerning eye cannot observe any of the shortcomings and faults so frequently found in machine processes.

A curious situation now arose: while Russia was being flooded with cheap foreign jewelry and silverware, we were exporting more expensive but more modern goods.

We could have achieved the same success with our jewelry, had we been able to obtain precious stones from original sources and in sufficient quantities, like French and English jewelers.

Yet we should have needed more capital and have to make changes in the business organization, following the market situation and fashion more attentively.

Articles intended for England had a rather individual artistic aspect, characterized by simplicity of form, restraint in ornamentation and special care for technical perfection of construction.

A sepia en camaieu enamel portrait of Prince Chulalongkorn in a diamond and sapphire frame in the Siamese taste by Fabergé

A sepia en camaieu enamel portrait of Prince Chulalongkorn in a diamond and sapphire frame in the Siamese taste by Fabergé

Twice a year a representative of the firm's London branch travelled to the Far East, mainly to India and Siam. The Siamese Royal Family and court were the most important clientele of the region. Our works were first brought to Siam by Prince Chulalongkorn (in fact: Chakrabong),who had spent a long time in Saint Petersburg attending the Corps des Pages:soon after his return home, the firm received various orders from the royal couple, with special emphasis on items of carved nephrite and miniature enameled portraits of the King and Queen surrounded by brilliants.

Having learned from visitors to Siam that rings set with gemstones were the most popular kind of jewelry, we sent a large selection of rings there on our very first journey. Unfortunately nobody had considered the possibility that European ring sizes might be unsuitable, and indeed they proved to be so much too large that next time we had to manufacture rings in children's sizes for the slender fingers of Siamese ladies.

Siam has a tradition of exchanging New Year gifts, similar to our Easter eggs, every year is called by the name of some animal. In 1913 the Siamese Court ordered a whole series of objects and trinkets in the form of pigs.

Of the articles manufactured for Siam, many are European in character, but quite a few are in the Siamese style, for which we used patterns, drawings and photographs obtained from that country. This style bears traces of Indian and Chinese influences, but is distinctively interesting, although hitherto very little studied. It is characterized by extremely rich ornamentation, perfection of detail and the influence of Chinese color schemes is very marked.

Before 1908 gemstone carving played a secondary part in the firm's production. Articles made of Siberian and other semi-precious stones served as frames or backgrounds for gold and silver open-work.

They were also used for small articles, such as snuffboxes, walking- stick handles, seals and frames, and sometimes for larger articles, such as ornamental vases, clocks, inkstands and lamps.

Nearly all the gemstone works of this period were manufactured on the basis of the firm's sketches and models at Woerffel's workshop in Saint Petersburg and at the Stern factory in Oberstein (Germany).

Some carved objects were obtained from Ekaterinburg craftsmen and were then transported to the above-mentioned enterprises for finishing and repolishing (it is interesting to note that the cost of the improvements was often higher than the original price of a piece).

Masters of the Peterhof gem-carving factory also produced articles made at home in their spare time. This increasing use of gemstones in gold and silver articles, artistic shortcomings and execution at detached factories without the necessary supervision compelled the firm to open its own workshop where it could exercise direct control over execution and could coordinate gemstone carving with subsequent jewelry and goldworking operations.

As gemstones assumed an increasing place in the volume of the firm's production, their qualities and intrinsic beauty stimulated artists to place them in the forefront, leaving to the metal settings the complementary, often purely technical, role of fastenings, hinges or clasps.

Nephrite was most widely used, because of its noble qualities and beauty. Nephrite was supplied from the river Onot in boulders or basic blocks from C.F. Woerffel's deposits. Both hard and ductile and free from the cracks which make many other stones so difficult to work, nephrite can be carved to the limits of perfection. Even beyond these limits, as we shall see, nephrite appears in many variations of tints of the basic grass-green color. It is practically impossible to determine the color and quality of the stone from a boulder or nugget, for a boulder covered with a splendid promising crust is often found to be disappointing when cut, while on the contrary rotten crusts («rotten» places in nephrite are soft whitish spots which crumble easily and do not take polish) often hide beautiful cores.

Nephrite may be divided into six kinds:

A Two-Colour Gold-Mounted Nephrite Photograph Frame, Marked Fabergé, With The Workmaster's Mark Of Henrik Wigström, St Petersburg, 1903-1904 Important Russian Art | London, 27 November 2017, lot 271. Photo: Christie’s

A Two-Colour Gold-Mounted Nephrite Photograph Frame, Marked Fabergé, With The Workmaster's Mark Of Henrik Wigström, St Petersburg, 1903-1904 Important Russian Art | London, 27 November 2017, lot 271. Photo: Christie’s

  • Translucent dark-green

  • Translucent with silver-nile-green streaks

  • Translucent light-green

  • Opaque black-green

  • Spotted

  • Crackled

Naturally, all these peculiar properties must be used in an intelligent approach to the work. When the dark-green kind is sliced very thin, it becomes translucent and acquires a beautiful rich green color, but if it is left thick, it looks almost black. The green sort with silvery streaks is the best for sculpture requiring a high degree of perfection, since it is very durable, harder than other varieties, and consequently takes a splendid polish.

The light-green kind was used in articles of a certain thickness, so that its color should be retained. Spotted and crackled nephrite was used for sculptured leaves, lending them a variety of hues.

In addition to those mentioned, there are other rarer kinds — grey, white, yellowish and even bluish-violet nephrites.

Grey nephrite, also known as Murgab nephrite, is the hardest of all, but we seldom used it because of its rarity.

We also worked with New Zealand nephrite brought from England, but its «dryness» or friability and insipid color led us to give preference to the Siberian variety.

The second place in our manufacture was taken by orletz (rhodonite). This gem is hardly ever suitable for sculpture because of its cracks and spots, but it gives excellent results in panels and pieces of a considerable size, while its bright pink clusters provide magnificent material for small items, such as knobs for walking sticks, umbrella handles and seals.

The intensity of the color of some clusters is reminiscent of that of rubies. My observations of rhodonite have led me to the conclusion that the highly appreciated bright pink clusters are always to be found near black layers of ironstone, so that a piece of orletzcovered with a thick black crust is more promising than one covered with a milky pink crust.

The main defect of rhodonite is the presence of numerous cracks, which often become apparent only during the working process and make it impossible to finish the piece.

Very reliable and versatile materials are the many varieties of jasper, the most noteworthy being Orsk jasper, with its warm basic colour enhanced by patterns of all shades of brown and green: forest thickets, rocks, valleys, trees and various fantastic motifs arise before the beholder's astonished eyes.

We generally used Orsk jasper in slices after the block had been sawn up. The slices were carefully studied by artists who chose the most interesting motifs and gave instructions for further cutting, the slabs thus obtained being used as panels, lids for snuff-boxes and caskets, brooches, and so forth, depending on their size.

Of the other widely employed varieties, grey Nikolaiev jasper was used for larger articles, such as tables, inkstands and candelabras. The even grey color of Kalgan jasper blended splendidly with gold mounts and enamel work. Without listing all the numerous varieties of jasper used in our production, I shall merely point out that jaspers with large patterns were mainly used for the manufacture of large objects.

An important part was played by Beloretsk quartz, especially the pink and crackled white (shramovsky) varieties.

The cracks in the latter made it difficult to work with, but the results achieved always compensated for failures and breakage: the quartz was absolutely transparent in some artefacts, while in others it was white like a frosted window- pane, and the most beautiful effect was obtained in vases and plaques of minimal thickness.

Serpentines were not widely employed because of their softness and permeability by adipose matter; an exception was made for jadeite, since its beautiful grape- green colour partly made up for its shortcomings.

Bukhara lazurite (lapis lazuli) was widely used for small items, especially in settings of the Renaissance and French 18th Century styles. Siberian lazurite occurs in larger pieces and is mounted in silver.

Rock crystal was used in a wide variety of articles and with carving and engraving, the settings being lavishly decorated with enamel and precious stones. Its fragility required particular skill on the part of the craftsman and only the most experienced masters worked with it. Since rock crystal cannot stand even the slightest heating, its settings were never soldered, but their parts joined only by rivets and other similar means.

All kinds of other stones were also employed, including sea pebbles and even cobble-stones, if their color or patterns were of artistic interest.

The firm’s gemstone creations can be divided into two categories. The first comprises carved stones in combination with metal and other articles made exclusively of carved gemstones.

The first category includes vases, tables, candelabras, clocks, snuffboxes and innumerable large and small objects and knick-knacks, framed in exquisite chiseled and engraved enamels, precious stones and noble metals.

The second category consists mainly of sculptures — figures of people and animals, flowers, fruit and mosaics.

The settings were incredibly lavish, the gold in Renaissance-style settings being given the most sophisticated treatment — embossing, engraving, tracery, enameling, and clasps of brilliants and colored gemstones.

This rich treatment of the settings emphasized the value of the framed stones. Some examples of this are quoted in the list of the firm’s most outstanding creations to which a separate chapter is devoted.

The sculptural category comprises numerous realistic, humorous or stylized representations of animals and people.

These miniature sculptures were very popular with our clientele up to the very last days. This success can be explained by the amusing nature of figures and also by the fact that, being made of non-precious materials, they made ideal gifts for occasions when the price of the article should not be noticeable. The passion for collecting also contributed to their popularity: many high-ranking persons had collections of these figures, and their entourage was aware that new items for their collection would be favourably accepted.

Such miniature sculptures were often portraits of their pet dogs, cats or parrots, such as the French bulldog of the actress Balletta commissioned by Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich, or the beloved pigeons of King Edward of England. These were usually made of solid pieces of stone, but whenever possible the stone was chosen in colors and markings corresponding to the model. Jasper from the Ural and the Altai, brecciasand porphyries were the best materials for the purpose. This naturalistic selection of stones was only a step away from mosaic sculpture, where color effects are obtained by cementing different stones together or by inlay.

When such mosaics did not imitate nature too closely, the artistic image was preserved, but the craze for novelty, lack of taste on the part of the customers and their insistence on slavish imitation sometimes compelled us to produce unduly naturalistic artefacts and thereby to destroy the artistic effect.

The undoubted prototypes of these sculptures were Chinese and Japanese gemstone carvings. Their acquaintanceship first gave us the idea of creating figures of this kind. The manufacture of gemstone flowers, which has lately assumed a significant place in our business, has the same origin.

This genre of Chinese art was first brought to our attention when we were called upon to repair a bunch of chrysanthemums from the Palace of the Chinese Emperor after it had been occupied by the European landing force.

The chrysanthemums were made of corals, white nephrite and other stones, with leaves of grey nephrite and stems of square bunches of wire bound with green silk. Every petal was held in place by a wire connected to the calyx. The skillful selection of tints and the translucency of some of the gems produced a magnificent impression.

Unfortunately, as in the story about the steel mechanical flea which had stopped jumping because skillful masters managed to put tiny horse-shoes on its feet — the work was unique, but the flea had lost its main interest — our masters managed to make stems of stone, with the result that the flowers became more fragile and the bouquet became a curiosity of gemstone carving instead of a work of art.

Before we became acquainted with Chinese flowers, our firm had been manufacturing flowers in enamel with nephrite leaves.

A particularly successful image was that of dandelions, natural down being attached to gold hair-like lengths of wire with tiny brilliants: the sparkling spots of diamonds among the white fluff produced a wonderful effect and saved these artificial flowers from unduly close imitation of nature.

When our enameled flowers were first displayed at the Paris Exhibition in 1900, they were immediately copied by German and Austrian manufacturers and the market was flooded with cheap versions — lacquers instead of enamels and glass instead of rock crystal in vases.

Narcissi, jasmine, branches of white lilac and hyacinths were made of white quartz; sweet peas and other gaily-coloured flowers were made of rhodonite, quartz, cornelian and agate; leaves were usually made of nephrite, occasionally of green jasper and quartz.

The flowers were sometimes put into rock crystal vases, hollowed only in the upper half to produce an impression of water, and sometimes in pots of grey jasper or shokhan;a whole series of dwarf cactuses with flowers was particularly successful. Many of these works were purchased by Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna or given to her by friends and relations. Some specimens were sold in London, where they were safely delivered in spite of their fragility. The cost of manufacture was extremely high, and could reach several thousand roubles, according to the complexity of the floral composition. Since gemstone carving occupied a separate place in the firm, I shall mention here some outstanding creations in which metal settings played a leading part, and also the name of artists and masters who worked in this branch:

1.            A nephrite wreath laid on the tomb of Gustav, King of Sweden. Laurel and oak branches were fixed to a slab of black marble.

2.            A figure of Buddha and a ritual lamp, both in nephrite, manufactured for the Royal Temple of Siam. The pedestal was made of chased and enameled gold. The model of the figure was sent from Siam and the lamp was made in the Siamese style by the artist Jacobson on the basis of patterns also sent from Siam for the purpose.

A series of nephrite boxes with finely chiseled ornamentation was

also manufactured for the Siamese Court.

3.       Some particularly successful animal sculptures were caricatures of elephants made of different stones as bibelots, seals and walruses in obsidian with a sheen giving the effect of amphibian fur, on bases of rock crystal in the shape of icefloes, and polar bears in yellowish white quartz on similar ice-floes. Another successful piece was an obsidian hippopotamus with the inside of its open mouth in rhodonite of the appropriate color. It is impossible to enumerate all the animals which served as models for these figures, but it should be noted that the postures chosen were as compact as possible, to meet the technical requirements of the material.

Turning to human figures, I shall mention the best of them, such as the humorous figures of a priest in a fur coat and cap and of a house- painter with a bucket and brushes behind his back. An extremely comical effect is achieved by the skilful representation of the proportions. The house-painter’s clothes stained with whitewash and paint are made of Siberian lazurite and Orsk jasper. Both figures were modelled by the sculptor Froedman-Cluzel.

A Tatar street pedlar. His skull-cap and coat are made of dark streaky nephrite; heaps of scarves, socks, kerchiefs and lace thrown over his skull-cap, shoulder and arms enliven the dark figure with gaily-coloured patches, and his typical lineaments complete the effect.

A lemonade-boy clad in a soiled apron carries an oversized jug on his head and has a mug attached to his belt.

The upper part of the jug is made of rock crystal and the lower part of gold topaz, so that the jug seems to be half-full.

The figure of a khaki-dad reserve soldier of 1914 is also interesting. He is represented lighting a cigarette, and his type, posture and facial expression are wonderfully conveyed. His khaki uniform made of green jaspers of various tints is also successfully rendered.

An ice-carrier: A horse drawing a sledge loaded with blocks of ice and a male carrier in a typical cap with ear-flaps stand on a pedestal of greyish quartz representing a sledge passage.

The ice blocks are made of quartz of various degrees of transparency to create the illusion of internal breaks. The horse is in brown jasper, with the mane a darker shade.

The whole group is interpreted in a naturalistic manner and its motion, characteristic types and details are rendered most successfully.

The last-named figures were executed after models by Georgii Savitskii which bear witness to his natural sensitivity and powers of observation. In many figures of Russian peasants and other folk characters, their tulups (sheepskin coats) are made of Beloretz quartz, its various shades being used to render new sheepskins as well as the most worn-out ones.

Before ending the chapter on gemstone-carving, something must be said about the organization of this branch and the masters concerned. When the artistic shortcomings of articles produced by Woerffel and in the Oberstein workshops induced the firm to establish a workshop of its own.

The artist P.M. Kremlev, who graduated from the Ekaterinburg Art School and devoted himself to the gemstone carving craft, was invited to serve as manager. Under his direction, the artistic level of the output immediately improved considerably, beginning with the disappearance of the mediocre dryness characteristic of works made by Woerffel or produced in Oberstein. Many articles were made personally by Kremlev. It is true that our work was more expensive than that done in Oberstein, but that could be mainly ascribed to a lack of technical equipment and to bad management. At the peak period ot its activity (1912-1914), the workshop employed 20 masters. They nevertheless had no time to fill all the orders, so that some simple tasks were sub-contracted to Ekaterinburg workshops; but the employees of the main workshop were constantly working overtime because of the shortage of experienced masters.

The workshop survived until 1917, when it was closed down because of the lack of materials and masters who were mobilized at various periods.

Among the masters, special mention should be made of Derbyshev, a talented and original personality from Ekaterinburg. I made his acquaintance in 1908 when he arrived in Saint Petersburg in search of work; to be more precise, he walked there, for he made most of the journey on foot, taking odd jobs as a loader or a market-gardener to earn his living. He came to Saint Petersburg dressed in rags and shod in lapti(bark shoes). We at once recognized him as a business-like and gifted master and the firm hastened to provide him with decent clothes and footwear; since our own workshop was only being projected at the time, he was sent to Woerffel’s factory, where he worked for a year and saved up a little money.

Then at our recommendation, he went to Oberstein for advanced study, and from there to Paris to work for the artistic gem-carver Lalique, who was so delighted by his talents that he wanted to make Derbyshev his successor and to marry him to his daughter. But destiny willed otherwise: nostalgia or maybe fear of the marriage made him return to Russia at the beginning of 1914; he was mobilized during the first months of the war and perished in the capture of Lvov. The firm had intended to entrust him with the assignment and management of the new workshop, and it is absolutely no exaggeration to say that in his person Russian gemstone carving lost its best master and perhaps the only one with an artistic education.

Our relations with Ural manufacturers before 1914 were only occasional. From time to time they would supply us with gemstone articles, most of which were unsatisfactory in all respects: it was indeed painful to see how those beautiful stones had been spoiled by poor workmanship.

The firm bought these objects for the stones, and then broke them up to save certain parts or, if possible, to correct defects of design and treatment.

This state of affairs gave me the idea of going to Ekaterinburg to acquaint myself on the spot with the available supply of stones and the means of production.

The business was dying, since many masters had been mobilized and many workshops had been closed down or were operating with only a third of the staff.

After visiting the workshops of Lipin, Lazarev and others, I had long conversations with their owners, who listened willingly to my suggestions.

Having selected from their stocks a considerable number of slabs, pieces and blocks, I described their application and made sketches of the articles to be manufactured, at the same time pointing out defects of gem-working which had to be eliminated. With regard to the artistic aspect, I realized that the problem had to be discussed elsewhere, and I went to the Art School.

Since the director was away on leave, I applied to his deputy, the artist and teacher G. Almazov, who willingly informed me about the position of gemstone carving at the school and showed me the school workshops and objects made by pupils. During two long conversations, we thrashed out the reasons for the artistic backwardness of the craft — first, the complete isolation of the school from the manufacturers, secondly shortage of funds, and thirdly, the low wages paid locally which prevented pupils from choosing gemstone carving as a career. It became clear that to ensure a normal development, a series of measures would have to be taken at the government level.

Before leaving the city, I proposed that every year the school should send the most gifted gemstone carving pupils to our workshop in Saint Petersburg, the costs being borne by the House of Faberge and by the school.

The Ekaterinburg gem-carving factory closed down, the premises were occupied by the military, and

many machines were dismantled. Having obtained permission from His Majesty's Cabinet, I purchased several slabs, bars and the like for our workshop.

With regard to the firm's relations with the Siberian market, mention should be made of the purchase of a whole series of small articles from the Kolyvan factory which were technically well executed. Judging from the drawings, these articles might have been manufactured long ago and stored at the factory for years. From that source we also obtained a set of over a hundred samples of jasper and other minerals, and also some slabs of jasper and quartz.

During my stay in Ekaterinburg I had the good fortune to meet Kalugin, a fascinating and interesting person. He quickly became a good friend and we made plans for a joint tour of the gem deposits of the Ural the following summer. A great connoisseur (...) he informed me (...).

 

Frants P. Birbaum’s 1919 manuscript breaks off here

 

Frants Birbaum left Soviet Russia on 20 May 1920 and went back to Switzerland in a Red Cross convoy. In his mind, it was for only a short period: he thought he could help the Russian people by sending designs for «artistic»new china that the Lomonosov Factory would produce. Fersman never answered his letters.

In Switzerland, Frants Birbaum (known subsequently as Francois Birbaum)kept in touch with the Faberge family, especially with Eugene Faberge. But at the end of the 1920s, he was no longer interested in luxury jewelry. Victor Hammer (Armand’s brother) travelled to Aigle (Switzerland) to see him in order to authenticate some Faberge artefacts but met with a refusal. Birbaum never spoke about his Russian years, the part he played at Faberge or his role among the Soviets. A closed chapter...

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