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4. The Koh-I-Nur



The Koh-i-nûr is the most ancient, the most illustrious, and the most traveled of all our diamonds. It is what is called a white diamond, but its color would be of the deepest crimson, if only one thousandth part of the blood which has been shed for it could have tinted its rays. It looms through the mist of ages until the mind refuses to trace further backwards its nebulous career.

It is to an emperor that we owe the first contemporary account of the imperial gem. In 1526 Baber, the Mogul conqueror, speaks of it as among the captured treasures of Delhi. But that was by no means the first time that it mingled in the affairs of men. It was already "the famous diamond" in Baber's time, and a wild tradition would have us believe that it was found no less than five thousand years ago. If it were found then, and if it has been ever since the contested prize of adventurers, thieves and all sorts of marauders, we cannot be too thankful that forty-seven of those fifty centuries are mercifully hidden from us.

Sultan Baber was a great man, a mighty conqueror and a good writer. He has left full and minute journals of his long adventurous life, which take the panting reader through such a series of battles, sieges, conquests, defeats, royal pageants and hair-breadth escapes, that at last one cries out with wonder, "Can this man have been mortal to have lived through all this?"

Baber came from good old conquering stock. His father was sixth in descent from Tamerlane the Tartar, and his mother stood somewhat nearer to Jenghis Khan. Following in the footsteps of his fierce ancestors, Baber invaded India, or as he himself complacently remarks: "he put his foot in the stirrup of resolution and went against the Emperor Ibrahim." Rushing down like a devastating whirlwind from his mountain fastnesses around Cabul, Baber fell upon the Punjaub, first striking down all that opposed him and then writing about it in his Memoirs.

On the twenty-first of April, 1526, he encountered the army of Ibrahim on the field of Paniput. "The sun was spear-high when the contest began, and at midday they were completely beaten and my men were exulting in victory," says Baber. The Indian emperor was killed and his head was brought to the victorious Mogul. Immediately after the battle, the conqueror sent forward two flying squadrons to Agra and Delhi respectively to seize the treasures of the fallen king. The troop which went to Agra was commanded by Humayûn, the favorite son of Baber. It is with this troop and its doings that we are concerned, but what was found in the Hindoo treasury had best be told by the conqueror himself:

"Sultan Sekandar had made Agra his residence during several years while he was endeavoring to reduce Gwalior. That stronghold was at length gained by capitulation in the reign of Ibrahim: Shemsabad being given in exchange to Bikermajet the Hindoo who was Rajah of Gwalior for more than a hundred years.[D] In the battle of Paniput he was sent to Hell. [Incisive Mohammedan expression which signifies the death of an unbeliever.] When Humayûn arrived (at Agra) Bikermajet's people attempted to escape, but were taken by the parties which Humayûn had placed upon the watch and put in custody. Humayûn did not permit them to be plundered. Of their own free will they presented to Humayûn a pesh kesh (tribute) consisting of a quantity of jewels and precious stones. Among these was one famous diamond which had been acquired by the Sultan Ala-ed-din."

[D] Baber's meaning is obscure; probably he should have said "whose family were rajahs, etc."

We may reasonably doubt how much of free will there was in the gift from a defeated Hindoo prince to his Afghan conqueror. Let us question this as we may, there is little doubt as to what diamond it was, although Baber gives it no name. The Sultan Ala-ed-din, to whom the imperial memoir-writer here refers, flourished a couple of centuries previously, and it is generally believed that he obtained "the famous diamond" in 1304 when he conquered the Rajah of Malwa in whose family it had been for ages.

How it eventually came into the hands of Bikermajet is not explained. But in the wild whirl of revolution and insurrection, which form the main staple of Indian history, many things get hopelessly mixed, and a diamond might easily turn up unexpectedly and be quite unable to account for itself. Baber goes on to relate that the great diamond--we will antedate its name by two centuries and call it henceforward the Koh-i-nûr--was valued by a competent judge of diamonds "at half the daily expenditure of the whole world"--an expression which for grandiloquent vagueness can scarcely be surpassed. Fortunately the same competent judge had not the weighing of the stone, or we should be befogged by some further Oriental hyperbole.

KOH-I-NUR, AS RE-CUT.

The emperor however says distinctly that the diamond weighed about eight mishkals, which being interpreted means about one hundred and eighty-six carats of our weight, or a little less than the Orloff and fifty carats more than the Regent. It is mainly on the evidence of the weight thus carefully recorded by Baber, that we identify the Koh-i-nûr, and can trace its subsequent career. On its arrival in England its exact weight was found to be one hundred and eighty-six and one-sixteenth carats, which agrees with the figure given by Baber as afterwards computed by dependable authorities. When we consider the extreme rarity of these great diamonds, coupled with the fact that no two stones are of exactly the same weight, we may feel pretty safe in concluding that Baber's "famous diamond" and our Koh-i nûr are one and the same stone, especially as henceforward its history is tolerably consecutive.

KOH-I-NUR, INDIAN CUT. (186 carats.)

This magnificent gem the emperor gave to his beloved son Humayûn, who had very dutifully offered it to his father as tribute. It is somewhat painful to learn that Humayûn rewarded this generosity by base ingratitude. The very next year we find Baber making this complaint:

"I received information that Humayûn had repaired to Delhi and had there opened several houses which contained the treasure and had taken possession by force of the contents. I certainly never expected such conduct from him, and, being extremely hurt, I wrote and sent to him some letters containing the severest reprehension."

It was surely not a comely action in the man who had received the Koh-i-nûr as a gift from the hands of his father, to plunder that father's treasure houses. Baber was at all events in full possession of his health and power and was abundantly able to enforce the obedience of his son. He again admitted Humayûn into favor, and four years later, namely in 1530, we find this fondly-cherished son languishing in mortal illness. The father was in despair, and sent him down the Ganges one hundred miles to Agra in hopes of benefiting him, but apparently to no purpose. A man of great piety was appealed to for his opinion, and he declared that in such cases the Almighty sometimes deigned to receive a man's most valuable possession as a ransom for the life of his friend. Baber declared, that next to the life of Humayûn, his own was what he held most precious in the world, and that he would offer it up as a sacrifice. His courtiers, aghast at the purport of such a vow, begged him to offer up instead "that great diamond taken at Agra," and reputed to be the most valuable thing on earth.

But the Koh-i-nûr, almost priceless as it was, Baber esteemed at a lower figure than his own existence. The self-devoted emperor walked thrice around the bed of his son, saying aloud: "I have borne it away, I have borne it away." Immediately thereafter he was observed to sink into illness, while Humayûn as steadily regained his health. So all Eastern historians of the time declare, devoutly believing in the miracle. Perhaps we, more sceptical, may account for it by suggesting that both men, father and son, were suffering from Indian fever, and that the elder died, while the younger was able to live through it.

Humayûn must have retained possession of the Koh-i-nûr during his adventurous life, for his son, the celebrated Akbar, appears to have bequeathed it in turn to his son and successor, Jehangir. This Jehangir was the most magnificent of all the Mogul emperors, or indeed it might be safely added of all the emperors of the world. He was a great admirer of diamonds of which he possessed a vast quantity. He must have inherited an immense number of jewels from his father Akbar, for in his memoirs he describes his crown, which he valued at a sum equivalent to ten millions of dollars, and which was composed exclusively of the diamonds and other jewels which Akbar had purchased.

This seems to establish the fact that the Koh-i-nûr was not incorporated in the imperial crown. It may possibly have been one of those magnificent diamonds which he used so lavishly in the adornment of his renowned peacock throne, the value of which amounted, according to his own estimate, to the unheard-of figure of forty millions of dollars. Some writers indeed go so far as to assert that the Koh-i-nûr was one of the eyes of that stupendous peacock, which was entirely composed of precious stones, and whose out-spread tail overshadowed the throne of the Moguls. According to them, too, the Orloff diamond was the other eye. But this is clearly a mistake; we have already seen where the Orloff came from--a thousand miles and more from Delhi.

It seems most probable that the peerless stone was worn as a personal ornament. There is extant an interesting contemporary print, which represents Jehangir decked out with a profusion of large pearls, in addition to which he wears around his neck a long string of various jewels. In the center of this chain hangs one stone of such exceptional size that it may well be the Koh-i-nûr. This however is only conjectural. Terry, the author of the print, chaplain to Sir Thomas Roe, who was sent on an embassy from James I. to the Grand Mogul, does not mention the Koh-i-nûr by name. He merely observes that the Emperor was in the habit of wearing around his neck "a string of all his best jewels," and since the Koh-i-nûr was undoubtedly the finest diamond then known, and was apparently in his possession, it is more than probable that it would figure in the necklace.

Jehangir's empress was the celebrated Nûr Jehan (Light of the World), a princess famous alike for her beauty and her wisdom. The emperor says in his autobiography that she had the entire management of his household and of his treasure, whether gold or jewels. He might have justly added that she had the entire management of himself also, for he was completely under her influence. This beautiful Light of the World must have been uncommonly fond of jewels, as the emperor says that he had to give her thirty-five millions of dollars at their marriage to buy the needful jewels. Also Nûr Jehan is said to have invented the now world-famous perfume, attar of roses. Toward the end of Jehangir's life the Koh-i-nûr and all his other diamonds, we are told, ceased to charm, and he no longer desired to possess them. Even of diamonds, it appears, one may have a surfeit.

Shah Jehan, son of Jehangir, ascended the throne of India in 1627, and was if possible more addicted to jewels than his father. He caused basins of diamonds to be waved over his head in order to avert evil. This sort of incantation seems to have failed of its purpose in his case for he was dethroned and imprisoned by his rebellious son, Aurung-zeb, who kept him in confinement during the last seven years of his life. His diamonds and his daughter, Jihanira, were left with him to keep him company and amuse him during these tedious years.

Aurung-zeb, who, for an Eastern potentate, was rather short of jewels, sent one day to his father to get some of his diamonds in order to adorn his turban which could boast of but one great ruby. The imprisoned Shah Jehan exclaimed in his wrath that he would break all his gems to atoms sooner than let his undutiful son touch one of them. He further intimated that the hammers were kept in readiness for this purpose. His daughter prevailed upon him to spare his glittering pebbles, and so the Koh-i-nûr escaped an ignominious death.

The same princess offered a basin full of diamonds to Aurung-zeb when he came to see her in her palace prison after the demise of their father, and thus the Koh-i-nûr came to adorn the brow of another emperor. For nearly a century after the Koh-i-nûr dwelt tranquilly in Delhi, adding the lustre of its rays to the turbans of the Mogul empress until the year 1739.

Mohammed Shah, a feeble irresolute man, was appointed by Fate to hold the sceptre of India at the moment when she was to meet her fiercest foe. Thamas Kouli Khan, better known as Nadir Shah, had raised himself to the throne of Persia and, like all usurpers, felt the need of strengthening himself at home by a successful foreign war. He accordingly invaded India, at the head of a small force of hardy fighters, who, in the words of Nadir's grandiloquent Persian biographer, "threw the shadow of their sabers across the existence of their foes." In short they killed all before them and entered the Punjaub early in the year 1739, by pretty much the same route as that followed by Baber, the ancestors of the Moguls. But the Moguls were changed since the days of Baber. Mohammed Shah was completely defeated the moment he encountered Nadir Shah.

However, booty, rather than territory, was the object of the invader, so he did not dethrone Mohammed, but only levied tribute from him. The defeated Mogul gave an unheard-of quantity of jewels to Nadir Shah "who was at first reluctant to receive them, but at length consented to place the seal of his acceptance upon the mirror of his request." Such reluctance is very foreign to the generally rapacious and grasping character of Nadir Shah, and probably existed only in the flowery imagination of the writer of his life.

Having become aware that the Koh-i-nûr was not among the treasures he had already sealed with his acceptance, Nadir Shah set about hunting for it, and at last a traitor was found who betrayed the secret of its hiding-place. A woman from the harem told the Persian king that the coveted diamond lay hidden in the folds of Mohammed's turban, which he never took off. Nadir accordingly one day invited his helpless friend, Mohammed, to exchange turbans with him in sign of their everlasting friendship. As in the time of the first free-will offering to Baber two centuries before, the Koh-i-nûr was once again to pass from the conquered to the conqueror, from the weak to the strong.

It is said that Nadir Shah, overjoyed at the beauty of the gem he had thus cleverly filched from his ally, called it "Koh-i-nûr" (i.e. the Rock of Light) the first time that he laid eyes upon it. If this is really a fact it is very singular. It is indeed strange that Jehangir, who was so fond of descriptive names compounded with Light, should have left it to the enemy of his race to endow one of his favorite diamonds with this poetical title. One would prefer to think that he had called his diamond the Rock of Light just as he had called his wife the Light of the World.

Upon the retreat of the conqueror the diamond was carried off with other booty. The Koh-i-nûr therefore went from Delhi into Persia, and eventually it descended to Shah Rokh, the hapless son of the mighty Nadir Shah. But he who would wear the great diamond in peace must himself be strong, and Shah Rokh was weak. The wretched prince was unable to hold the throne, usurped by his father, against the usurpations of his own lieutenants. In 1751 he was dethroned and his eyes put out by Aga Mohammed, who endeavored by the most frightful tortures to force him to give up his diamonds and other treasures. Shah Rokh however, in spite of all, still retained the Koh-i-nûr and his tormentor thereupon devised for him a diadem of boiling pitch and oil which was placed on his unhappy head. But even this expedient failed to make him give up his priceless gem.

A powerful neighbor, the lord of Kandahar, an old friend of his father, now came to Shah Rokh's assistance, put his tormentor to death, and once more placed the forlorn prince upon his tottering throne. In reward for this timely service, the Persian gave to his deliver the Koh-i-nûr in whose rays his sightless eyes could no longer rejoice. Shortly afterwards he died from the effects of his injuries.

The Koh-i-nûr was now in Afghanistan, the birthplace of Baber, while Baber's descendants on the throne of Delhi helplessly mourned its loss. It went from father to son safely enough for two generations in the land of the Afghans, and then its evil spell began to work once more.

In 1793, just after its rival, the Regent, had been lost and found in the midst of the French Revolution, the Koh-i-nûr passed by inheritance into the hands of Taimûr Shah, the king of Cabul. He left it along with his crown and his kingdom to Raman Shah, his eldest son. Raman had enjoyed the triple inheritance for only a few years when his brother rose in arms against him, and being successful, as most rebels are in Afghanistan, followed the old established etiquette of the Cabul royal family:--the messengers of Shah Shuja, the triumphant rebel, met their deposed sovereign on his way to the capital, and they put out his eyes by piercing the eyeballs repeatedly with a lancet.

This done, Shah Shuja sat himself down to enjoy the sweets of Asiatic power. The Koh-i-nûr was not immediately his, however, for it was some time before it came to light, and then by the merest accident. An officer, happening to scratch his finger against something that protruded from the plaster in the walls of the prison of poor blinded Shah Raman, turned to examine the cause of the wound. To his amazement he discovered it to be the corner of the great diamond, which the unlucky prisoner fancied he had securely hidden away. Shah Shuja wore the Koh-i-nûr in a bracelet during the brief splendor of his reign, and it was on his arm when English eyes first saw it.

Mountstuart Elphinstone, the pioneer of the weary throng of Englishmen who have trod the road to Cabul, thus speaks of the Koh-i-nûr and its possessor to whom he was accredited as ambassador in 1812:

"At first we thought the Afghan was clad in an armour of jewels, but on closer inspection that appeared to be a mistake. His real dress consisted of a green tunic with large flowers in gold and precious stones over which were a large breast-plate of diamonds shaped like two flattened fleurs-de-lis, and an ornament of the same kind on each thigh; large emerald bracelets on the arms above the elbows and many other jewels in different places. In one of the bracelets was the Koh-i-nûr, known to be one of the largest diamonds in the world. There were also some strings of very large pearls put on like cross belts, only looser."

Shah Shuja met with the fate he had meted out to his elder brother, and in his turn was blinded and dethroned by his younger brother, Shah Mahmûd. The two blinded Shahs, united by a common misfortune, escaped together over the border and were doubly welcome at the court of Runjeet Singh, the fierce ruler, who goes by the name of the Lion of Lahore. The unhappy brothers did not come empty handed. Shah Shuja had managed to bring away with him an immense amount of jewels; hence the joy of Runjeet Singh, who had a passion for diamonds.

On the second day after his entrance into Lahore, Shah Shuja was waited upon by an emissary from Runjeet, who demanded the jewel in the name of his master. The fugitive monarch asked for time to consider the request, and hinted that after he had partaken of Runjeet's hospitality he might be disposed to listen to his demands.

But the Lion of Lahore was in too great a hurry to lay his hands upon Shuja's diamond to think of hospitality. On the contrary he treated the Shah as a prisoner, separated him from his wife, and acted with extreme harshness towards the latter. He even tried to starve the poor Begum into giving up her diamonds. He fancied that he had succeeded, and, in great delight, spread out before some knowing persons, the gems which his cruelty had extorted from the luckless queen, asking them which was the Koh-i-nûr. Great was Runjeet's disgust when he was told that the famous diamond was not among the lot.

Shah Shuja speaking of the final transaction says:

"After a month passed in this manner confidential servants of Runjeet at length waited on us and asked again for the Koh-i-nûr, which we promised to deliver as soon as the treaty was agreed upon between us."

A couple of days after this interchange of preliminaries, Runjeet appeared in person, and was full of friendship and promises. He swore by all manner of things to maintain inviolable a treaty to the following effect:

"That he delivered over certain provinces to us and our heirs forever, also offering assistance in troops and treasure for the purpose of again recovering our throne. He then proposed himself that we should exchange turbans (ominous precedent!) which among the Sikhs is a pledge of eternal friendship, and we then gave up to him the Koh-i-nûr diamond."

After which, let it be remarked, Runjeet broke all his promises.

The actual ceremonial of the delivering up of the Koh-i-nûr is graphically described by an eye-witness of the scene, who says that the behavior of Shah Shuja throughout the entire proceeding was dignified and impressive.

On the appointed day (namely, June 1, 1813) the Rajah accompanied by several experts--he was determined there should be no mistake this time--proceeded to Shadera where Shuja was residing. The two potentates sat in profound silence for one whole hour, neither being disposed to speak first. Runjeet Singh was consumed with impatient desire to see the Koh-i-nûr, so at length he hinted to an attendant, who in turn hinted to Shah Shuja the purpose for which they were all thus solemnly assembled. Shuja, silent still, nodded to a servant, who speedily placed upon the carpet a small casket. Then again a tremendous silence ensued which Runjeet bore as long as he could, and at last he nodded to a servant to open the casket. The Koh-i-nûr lay revealed, and was recognized by the experts as the true gem.

Runjeet, for the first time speaking, asked, "At what price do you value it?"

Shuja, answering from out of his woeful knowledge, said: "At good luck; for it has ever been the associate of him who has vanquished his foes."

Shah Shuja seemed to imagine the diamond to be a bearer of blessings. This is the common belief in India with regard to large diamonds, which are supposed to possess magic virtues; but Edwin Arnold, than whom there exists no better authority about Indian legends, distinctly states that according to a Hindoo tradition "a baleful influence" was ascribed to the Koh-i-nûr. "The genii of the mines, as it declared, enviously persecuted with misfortunes the successive holders of this treasure." Rapidly glancing over the history which we know he draws the conclusion that the tradition sprang up after the event.

To Runjeet Singh, at any rate, the Koh-i-nûr brought no misfortune. He wore it as a bracelet and it glittered on the old king's arm at many a Sikh durbar.

On his deathbed, the Brahmans who surrounded Runjeet tried to induce him to offer up the great diamond to the image of Juggernaut. The covetous priests were willing to run the risk of any amount of baleful influences, provided they could secure the Koh-i-nûr as a forehead jewel for their idol. Runjeet nodded his head, so the Brahmans averred; and on the strength of this dubious testamentary bequest they claimed the stone. The royal treasurer, however, less fearful of the wrath of the god than of that of the succeeding rajah, refused to give it up.

Kurruck Singh wore this symbol of royalty for a brief space and then died of poison to make way for a usurper, Shere Singh. This unlucky monarch was killed in a durbar as he sat on his throne in Lahore, and the Koh-i-nûr was flashing in his turban at the very moment when the assassin aimed the treacherous shot.

And now, last of all the Indian owners of the wonderful gem, we come to Dhuleep Singh, the infant son of Runjeet the Lion. It has been said that the Koh-i-nûr belonged ever to the strong; it was scarcely probable therefore that it would remain for any length of time in the feeble grasp of this child. Indeed, his elevation upon the throne of Lahore was a signal for all sorts of intrigues and machinations on the part both of those who were in power and wished to keep it, and of those who were out of power but wished to acquire it.

In the midst of all this turmoil a new and hardier race appears upon the scene. Lord Dalhousie annexes Lahore, and the English flag floats for the first time over the Koh-i-nûr.

In March, 1849, the king of Lahore was formally deposed. The scene was short and business-like, very different from the stately Oriental silence between Runjeet Singh and Shah Shuja on the occasion of the last change of allegiance made by the fickle diamond. A crowd of natives, without arms or jewels, a few English officers, a man reading the proclamation in Hindustani, Persian and English, the boy-king affixing his seal to the paper with careless haste--that was all. The ancient kingdom of the Five Rivers ceased to exist, and its last king became an English gentleman with a large income.

As a token of his submission, the deposed prince was to send the Koh-i-nûr to the Queen of England. This was accordingly done, and the imperial gem of India passed to the crown of England, thus once more vindicating its traditionary character. Again it has passed from the weak to the strong, from the conquered to the conqueror, but we may hope that it has left behind it in India all those baleful influences with which it has been credited.

When it came to England in 1850 the Koh-i-nûr was distinctly an Indian stone. It had a large flat top, irregular sides, and a multitude of tiny facets, besides which there were three distinct flaws. It was, moreover, lacking in light; being scarcely more brilliant than a piece of gray crystal.

Yet, notwithstanding all these defects, it was a deplorable want of taste and of historic sympathy which dictated the re-cutting of this unique gem. Professor King, an unimpeachable authority on diamonds and the proper mode of treating them, says with reference to this stone:

"As a specimen of a gigantic diamond whose native weight and form had been as little as possible interfered with by art, it stood without rival, save the Orloff, in Europe. As it is, in the place of the most ancient gem in the history of the world, older even than the Tables of the Law, and the Breast Plate of Aaron, supposing them still to exist, we get a bad shaped, because unavoidably too shallow, modern brilliant; a mere lady's bauble of but second water, for it has a greyish tinge, and besides this, inferior in weight to several, being now reduced to one hundred and two and one half carats."

The operation of re-cutting the Koh-i-nûr was a very delicate and dangerous one. A special engine and mill had to be erected for it and a special workman, Mr. Woorsanger, was brought for it from Amsterdam. The work was executed in the atelier of the Crown Jewels and superintended by the Garrard brothers. Much interest was excited by the process and many people of distinction visited the workshop. One of these visitors asked Mr. Garrard what he would do, supposing that the Koh-i-nûr should fly to pieces during the cutting--a contingency that some had feared likely. Mr. Garrard answered: "I would take my name-plate off the door and bolt."

The Prince Consort placed the diamond on the mill, and the Duke of Wellington gave a turn to the wheel. Thus launched, the work went on steadily, and at the end of thirty-eight days Mr. Woorsanger handed the new brilliant to his superiors.

The cutting of the Regent took two years by the old handmill process, and it had no deep flaws to eradicate, as was the case with the Koh-i-nûr. To grind out these flaws the wheel made no less than three thousand revolutions per minute.

The Koh-i-nûr still retains its Oriental name, though it has so unfortunately been forced to abandon its Oriental shape. It is now set in a brooch which the Queen wears upon all state occasions. It is kept at Windsor, so as to be at hand when wanted, and considerable interest in high quarters is required to get a sight of it. An exact model of it reposes in the jewel case of the Tower, alongside of the Crown, in order to gratify the curiosity of Her Majesty's subjects.