Lest we think the cash-strapped Bolsheviks were alone in selling off Imperial Jewels, we have only to look at a bit further into history to find an interesting precedent. The year 1906 was one of turmoil in Russia. Following the Russo-Japanese War and the 1905 Revolution, state coffers were depleted. Peasant and worker unrest swept the land. And, ominously, in both 1904 and 1905 Tsar Nicholas II had chosen not to order an Easter egg by Fabergé.
This was a sure sign of trouble at the highest level.
A new law was enacted on March 8, 1906, on “Rules for the Review of State Expenditures.” For the first time, the Ministry of the Imperial Court was to have limited access to the Imperial Treasury. Funds for the upkeep of the tsar’s family and the entire ministry were to be frozen, which led to severe belt-tightening.
What was to be done? Well, why not sell the gems in Treasury No. 2 of the Cameral Department of the Cabinet of His Imperial Majesty?
A letter drawn up by the Head of the Cameral Section, Master of the Court (Hofmeister) Lieutenant Colonel Nikolai Novoselsky and General-Adjutant Vladimir Borisovich Baron Freedericksz dated May 12, 1906, asserts that the gems had not served any purpose “for ten years.” Freedericksz reasoned that a sale would bring a massive influx of much needed capital, the interest from which could be used to buy future gifts of jewels for the State Treasury. To underline the perceived financial benefits to the Empire, Freedericksz claimed that, over the past decade, the gems’ value had risen by less than 20,000 rubles,[1] far less than what interest on capital would bring if sold. In the same letter, Freedericksz advocated a gradual dispersal of the gems. To make his point, Freedericksz provided a breakdown of the diamonds and colored gems by value from the two appraisals conducted in 1906.
This cache of unmounted gemstones represented the crème de la crème of the imperial reserves amassed over several Romanov reigns. “Rich, with rare, dear examples,” according to Russian historian Igor Zimin, it comprised Russia’s most prized natural specimens, including precious solitaires, brillianti (old mine-cut) and rose-cut diamonds, pearls, rubies and sapphires, golden topazes, and the finest Siberian amethysts, emeralds and opals, some of which had been purchased by Empress Catherine the Great in the eighteenth century. One emerald of exceptional quality, acquired during the reign of Tsar Nicholas I in 1841, weighed over 1,300 carats. In a last ditch effort to save this gem, a frantic representative sought and was granted an audience with the Tsarina Alexandra Fyodorovna at the Alexandrovsky Palace in Tsarskoe Selo. The Empress demurred.
On May 13, 1906, the tsar gave his “Imperial Consent” (высочайшее соизволение) to the sell-off. In an astonishing move, it was decreed that the magnificent historic specimens would be sold off all at once, rather than gradually, as had been suggested by the cabinet.
The stage was set for a secret auction in August. The stakes were high and privacy was an utmost concern. Thus, only the best jewellers and those with the deepest pockets were invited to participate. The first two, no doubt familiar with the offerings since they had served as official Court Appraisers for decades, were Edvard Bolin and Carl Fabergé. Considered patriarchs of the trade, both men were in their 60s. Far from being rivals at this point, the two had arranged to pool their resources. The two other participants were Parisian: Bernard Citroën and a Monsieur Germann, represented by an agent named Gillo, bidding separately.
Master of the Court Novoselsky officiated. The tender took place over the course of three days, beginning on August 14, 1906.[2] One imagines the jewellers intently examining “the goods” through loupes, struggling to value the astounding quality of these precious gems, unable to believe they were for sale and within reach. What a triumph this would be for their business and their country. The tension would have been palpable.
Did Bolin and Fabergé, as official court appraisers, have an advantage over the French? This is not clear. On one hand, they knew the stones far better than anyone else. At the same time, the Russians must have felt conflicted, knowing they would be bidding on the very gems they appraised, and thus not impartial. Bolin, whose grandfather, Andreas Roempler, had become Court Appraiser in 1823, must have felt especially anxious to honor both the prestigious family title and country, and to keep the gemstones within Russia at all costs.
Though no doubt dazzled by this imperial splendor, the French may have been more aloof, since they probably did not have the same emotional attachment to the stones. Yet it was clear a successful outcome would be a huge coup for France. The pressure was on.
Court protocol dictated a silent auction with three rounds of bidding. The terms were cash payment in full upon receipt of the gemstones. To confirm a winning bid after the third round, a 10 percent deposit would provide “a guarantee to secure the offer.” Closed bids would be simultaneously submitted in unsealed envelopes.
While the appraised value of the collection was stated as 982,938 rubles 19 5/8 kopeks on 1 March 1906, to inaugurate the sale the tantalizing figure of 773,651 roubles and 25 kopeks was advanced.
Why such a low sum? Had some of the more prized specimens been removed from the inventory before the auction, or did the cabinet simply wish to spur the bidding in the fashion of a live auction?
The bids rolled in. In all three rounds, Fabergé and Bolin outbid the French. The highest and lowest bids in the first two rounds were consistently 15,000 rubles apart. In the third and decisive round, however, the Russians submitted an astounding sum of 1,000,000 rubles (equivalent to approximately $15 million today), outbidding Gillo by almost 100,000 rubles, and Citroën by 73,000. The bids listed below appear in the same sequence in the archival document of the Imperial Cabinet. The information may reflect the bids as they were registered for each round, and so do not necessarily list the highest bid first:
As apparent victors, Fabergé and Bolin deposited 10 percent of the purchase price in accordance with the outlined terms of sale.
Then events took a surprising turn.
Baron Freedericksz suddenly rejected the final offer from Bolin and Fabergé. Dissatisfied with the million rubles offered by the jewellers, he annulled the results of the bidding. The archive’s file contains a letter, dated August 19 from Fabergé and Bolin, pleading with the ministry to accept their winning bid. Yet it also contains another document dated the same day, in which Georges Sachs, the French gemstone merchant, breaks with protocol by submitting a single bid of 1,075,000 rubles. The bid is handwritten on blank stationery with a Paris address.[3]
How did Sachs know this sum would secure the deal? Who tipped him off? Was it the French, the Russians, or the Cabinet? Documents indicate that it was Baron Freedericksz, a renowned statesman and confidante to the last three tsars of Russia.
On the same day that Bolin and Fabergé submitted their deposit, Freedericksz met Georges Sachs. Where or for how long is unknown, however it was long enough to reach an agreement as to what price would be the accepted winning bid for the gemstones.
On August 19, Sachs wrote to Freedericksz, thanking him for the meeting and confirming in writing his bid of 1,075,000 rubles, as well as a deposit of 375,000 rubles; both figures are exactly 75,000 more that Bolin and Fabergé’s winning bid and deposit. This is followed by a cryptic telegram from Sachs to Baron Freedericksz dated August 22:
Thank you with all my heart, your Excellency for your extreme vigilance. I take the liberty of announcing that I have the objects in my possession and that the monies have been deposited in conformance with my written and verbal commitments. I remain your most respectful servant.
George Sachs
How did this happen? Four possibilities seem plausible:
1. The Russians could go no higher. As stated in another document dated August 20, after their emotive letter on the topic of further bids, Bolin and Fabergé told the Head of the Cameral Section, in person, that the sum they offered on the August 17 reflected the limit of their resources and they declared their refusal to participate in any re-bidding.
Three days later, the Cabinet responded coldly to the Russian jewelers, reminding them that as their bid had not been “approved” by the Minister of the Court, a “second re-bidding” was scheduled. It seems a heartless and cruel move on the part of Freedericksz, who knew he had the upper hand. The Cabinet asserted that the Russian jewelers themselves, in their August 19 letter to the minister, had refused to participate in re-bidding. In conclusion, Fabergé and Bolin were instructed to take back their deposit under receipt No. 199.750 from the ministerial cashier.
2. Disenchantment followed by Defeat. It was no secret that Carl Fabergé disliked the officials in His Majesty’s Cabinet, and in his later years, he stopped going there altogether. His and Bolin’s refusal to engage further in the fight for the collection of gemstones was an emotional response by the elder purveyors to the Imperial Court, who had for years worked pro bono for the Cabinet as appraisers of these very same stones, and to whom the Court refused to sell the collection for a rather considerable sum. Clearly cash was king during those fateful days, Romanov history be damned.
3. French collaboration. Sachs, a French Catholic, had caught wind of the sale of treasures via the two unsuccessful French underbidders. Or maybe the obscure dealers were acting as ghost bidders for Sachs all along, while the rich gem merchant waited in the wings.
Already by this time there was an intense rivalry between Russian and French jewelers in the imperial capital, which would only increase in the coming years. Trade secrets between compatriots were of utmost importance to gaining the upper hand in business. Or, perhaps the Cabinet favored the Frenchmen for financial, diplomatic, or even personal reasons. As a result, the French triumphed over the Russians, as the front page of the Parisian daily Figaro crowed on September 12, 1906.
4. Russian Collaboration with Sachs. Sachs was well known in the trade around St. Petersburg, and to the Romanovs. He may already have been familiar with the imperial gems through his association with Fabergé.[4] Bolin, Fabergé and Sachs may have agreed at the last minute to combine funds and split the goods amongst themselves. The telegram by Sachs cited above however implies the gems went to France.
Igor Zimin, meanwhile, has suggested a possible collusion between the Cabinet and the Russians to “ramp up” the Parisians to the highest possible price for the deal. Would this explain why they outbid the French in every round leading up to the final showdown? But then this fails to explain the existence of Fabergé’s letter to the Cabinet, in which he pleads for them to accept his final bid – unless it was just a smokescreen to mask cross-border, Cabinet scheming. Although this version deserves consideration, it is unlikely, given that Fabergé and Sachs were friends and long-standing business associates.
Murky scenarios and motivations aside, the result was clear-cut. On August 20, the Ministry of the Imperial Court approved the Sachs bid of 1,075,000 rubles for the entire collection. Two days later, the precious gemstones, of irreplaceable value to Romanov history and cultural identity, were dispatched to the French merchant, with all the requisite signatures from the Imperial Cabinet.
Few knew at the time that 11 years later, both the revenue and, had it survived intact, the gemstone collection from Treasury No. 2 of the Cameral Department of His Majesty, would either be rendered meaningless as currency or be confiscated by the Bolsheviks. RL
[1] Values from two appraisals dated March and May of 1906 were presented. The latter was done in haste and no doubt on Freedericksz’s command, to support his claim to the tsar. It is possible that both Bolin and Fabergé conducted the appraisal.
[2] In a two-page, handwritten letter predating the tender, (August 12), Carl Fabergé shows his hand early to the Cabinet. He states that his firm has been in business for almost three-quarters of a century (it was founded in 1842, or 64 years prior), and offers the sum of 877,217 rubles 25.25 kopeks, with the proviso that the bid be increased by 1 percent if a higher offer is submitted. As an added incentive, Fabergé then offers to pay a 300,000 ruble deposit if his bid is successful.
[3] In the letter, Sachs obliquely thanks the Minister of the Court for an “audience” the previous day, 18 August and confirms his bid in writing.
[4] In Fabergé, A Comprehensive Reference Book, Tatiana F. Fabergé published the photo on page 47, listing Sachs as both associate and competitor of Carl Fabergé. This suggests that, as Carl already knew Sachs 11 years before the sale imperial of gems, they may have collaborated during or at the end of the auction.
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