All posts in Antique Jewelry

Black Opal. Photo Credit: Queen of Gems.

This stunning black and red stone, with a hint of green at the very edges, is a stunning example of a high-quality black opal, and possibly affords a glimpse of what it must have been like to gaze upon the most glorious opal known to man at the turn of the 19th century.

Though currently lost to public record, this famous opal of which I speak once belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte I’s beloved Empress Josephine de Beauharnais. Called the Burning of Troy opal, there appears to be no photograph or drawing of the (alleged) 700-carat stone, but there is much discussion about it throughout the historical record.

The Burning of Troy draws its name from the fabled flashing blaze of fire which was said to have burned so brightly within its belly that it appeared to sizzle upon its surface. Though no one contests the existence of this illustrious gemstone, the journey of the Burning of Troy opal once it left Empress Josephine’s possession is shrouded in mystery. Considering how frequently it’s discussed*, very little seems to really be known about it. Unfortunately, as is the case with many historied gemstones, the sparse accounts inspire far more questions than answers.

Until the 20th century, historians believed the opal hailed from the Czerwenitz Mines of Hungary, where most of Europe’s opals were mined. However, experts now agree that the black-backed black opal had to have come from Honduras, which makes its journey into Napoleon’s French hands even more intriguing. While many of the jewels Napoleon gave to his wife came from Italy as gifts or spoils of war, so far this writer has been unable to confirm when or where Napoleon acquired the stunning black opal.

Historians also agree that after Empress Josephine’s death in 1814, the gemstone was “lost” for nearly 100 years. In all likelihood, it wasn’t lost, but instead kept safe among the other heaps of jewels she bequeathed to her children upon her death.

It makes sense that this opal would not have been worn publicly by subsequent heirs, as it was their general custom to keep these precious gems in display cases in the palace. Furthermore, the popularity of opal waxed and waned with the superstitions of the times. Her granddaughter-in-law, Empress Eugenie, the logical choice for who possessed it during its time of obscurity, was terrified to wear opals and would most certainly have kept it under lock and key.

Current historians relate that the fiery black opal reappeared in Vienna, Austria, sometime before World War I, where it was supposedly purchased from an anonymous seller by the city. These same historians relate that city officials were offered 24,000 lira* for the gem at the end of World War I. Despite their depleted financial state after the war, the Austrians held onto their prized opal. According to the accounts, they would hold onto it for at least another 20 years, after which, at the outbreak of World War II (1939), the opal once again appears to have vanished without a (public) trace. The glorious stone has remained hidden from public view since.

I am intrigued by the histories of the Burning of Troy written between 1878 and 1917. They call into question current historical “facts,” and leave in their wake many more unanswered questions, and an enticing trail to follow at some point in the future. Here are some excerpts from the time:

“The Empress Josephine’s opal, called the Burning of Troy, from the innumerable red flames blazing on its surface, was considered to be the finest stone of modern times, but its present owner is unknown.” ~Excerpt from The British Quarterly Review, 1878.

“In the Museum of Vienna is an opal of extraordinary size and beauty, for which Lira 50,000 has been refused.” ~The next sentence in The British Quarterly Review, 1878.

“The largest opal in the world reposes in the Imperial Cabinet in Vienna. It is uncut, of 3,000 carats, and was found in the Czerwenitza Mines of Hungary, where the finest opals come from.” ~Excerpt from The Mentor, 1917

“The Empress Eugenie was one of those who had a dread of the opals’ evil influence. Perhaps she connected with it the ill-fate of another Bonaparte Empress, Josephine, who owned the most wonderful opal of her time. So brilliant were its fires that it was called The Burning of Troy.” ~Excerpt from the same article in The Mentor, 1917, two paragraphs later.

Both accounts represent topical discussions of opals in general, and both reference the opal on display in Vienna and The Burning of Troy opal as if they are completely separate. Note that the one writer refers to the opal on display in Vienna as a 3,000-carat opal, whereas the Burning of Troy is (fairly) well documented as (at least believed to be) a 700-carat stone. Note also that the the dates line up sufficiently to draw a reasonable conclusion that the two stones might be the same stone, though there is a huge discrepancy in the size of the stones in question.

So far, this researcher has been unable to discern whether these stones truly are one and the same, or whether a writer (or more than one writer) made a huge leap and merged two opals into one; something which is so easy to do when piecing together fragments of history to make a whole.

*Some accounts claim 50,000 lira were offered. It is hard to know which is the correct amount.

Marie Dressler Wins Best Supporting Actress in 1930 for her performance alongside Greta Garbo in “Anna Christie.” Photo Credit: Mythical Monkey Blog.

Actress Marie Dressler (1868-1934), wearing what became her staid public affairs outfit–a black velvet Adrian dress paired with a string of pearls and a fur wrap–poses with an Oscar. The comedienne won the golden statue in the category of Best Actress in 1930 for her role as Min in Min and Bill. Adapted by Frances Marion and Marion Jackson from Lorna Moon’s novel, Dark Star, the movie portrays Min joins Bill and Nancy to form their “cobbled-together family” which kept audiences in stitches as Min attempted to protect her daughter’s innocence from the leches who frequented their dockside inn.

Ms. Dressler went on to achieve tremendous fame during her four short years in Hollywood. Nominated for Best Actress for her starring role as housekeeper Emma in Clarence Brown’s Emma, Ms. Dressler walked the red carpet one more time in 1932, likely wearing a similar Adrian dress and a string a pearls. Though the Oscar went that year to Helen Hayes for her performance in The Sin of Madelon Claudet, but true to style, I imagine Ms. Dressler shone with her usual ebullience during the proceedings.

Not your typical glamorous movie star, Ms. Dressler does not appear to be credited with starting any fashion trends. However, she was known in her early years to have a boisterous sense of style, which she appears to have toned down, at least for public appearances, in 1919 {1}. In her early days, spent on Broadway and Vaudeville, she favored bold colors, shimmering sequins, and fanciful feather boas.

This fits the larger-than-life image her onscreen personalities predicate. However, at a party in 1919, it seems she exchanged this flamboyant attire for classic elegance. When harangued by friend Hedda Hopper, Ms. Dressler responded, “Stinker. I’m bustin’ a gut to behave like a lady and nobody appreciates the effort it takes.”{1}

During this time, the aging actress was struggling to make a comeback in the biz. After a brief success with Tillie’s Nightmare (1910), the actress fell on hard times and wound up selling Liberty Bonds during the war. Devoid of acting offers, she lost everything. Everything, that is, except her good will among friends. One such friend gave her a discounted room at the Ritz, where she eventually went to work as a hostess.

However, her dream to entertain persisted. The good will of her friends paired with her faithful persistence in pursuit of an acting career, despite her age of 50 years, slowly led to her first “talkie,” Anna Christie. Her performance as washed-up tramp Marthy re-launched Ms. Dressler into a stardom that was unheard of for a woman of her age (60, by then).

Her onscreen characters typically wore frumpy dresses and scant jewelry, which no one would say flattered the actress. These costumes, however, were perfectly tailored to her Depression-era characters, and they aided the comedienne in her portrayal of down-on-their-luck Depression-era women.

Off screen, when not attending black tie events, Ms. Dressler favored the color green. She owned abundant hats, and perhaps she still maintained a vibrant love of furs and sequins, though the record is unclear. It sounds as though she wore minimal jewelry, pinkie rings and a string of beads typically. {2}

Although she wrote in 1924, as her tide began to turn, that she “could never see the sense in owning large quantities of jewelry and keeping it in a safe deposit box or leaving it around in hotels and in taxicabs” {3}, it seems she did not allow her own opinion stop her from investing in certain personal effects, including jewelry, which were valued at $11,505 at the disbursement of her will in 1934. (Her personal effects would now be worth nearly $200,000.)

Among these jewels were a large diamond bracelet the actress left to Hallie Phillips, her closest East Coast friend, and a pin of pearls and diamonds she bequeathed to long-time friend Frances Marion, who landed Ms. Dressler her award-winning roles in Anna Christie and Min and Bill.

Ms. Dressler was a star like no other. She had an open-door policy on the set, and friends frequently found her sewing or knitting in between takes. Her daily lunches at the commissary were grand events, with everyone in sight of her stopping to say hello.

According to Elaine St. Johns, daughter to Hollywood author, Adela Rogers St. Johns, “Everyone should have a Marie in their lives. The younger stars hung onto her like crazy. She was a very open person and a friend to everyone. She didn’t have any feuds. Nobody was out to get her.” {4}

Clearly, though no fashion maven as we’re used to seeing on the red carpet these days, Marie Dressler was a matchless actress and a beautiful woman in every way that counts.

NOTES
1. Kennedy, Matthew. Marie Dressler: A Biography. Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc., 1999, p. 107.
2. Ibid., p. 184.
3. Dressler, Marie. The Life Story of an Ugly Duckling. University of California, 1924, p. 196.
4. Kennedy, p. 184.