Henry VII was the issue of a romance nearly connected with the Black Prince, and through him with the ruby. When Henry V died, Katherine, his widow, having first tasted of royalty, became a mere woman, and for love of a mere man married a plain but stalwart soldier from the ranks named Owen Tudor. It was their grandson who was the victor at Bosworth, and who was there crowned Henry VII.
The next recorded adventure of the great ruby came more than a century later, though doubtless if it could speak it would have much to say of what it saw or suffered during those hundred and sixty-four intervening years. When Charles I was beheaded, it was ordered by Parliament that all the insignia of royalty should be destroyed and the gems set therein sold to the best advantage. In the list which we have of the Regalia, which was in accordance with this order totally destroyed, defaced, or sold, we find the item: “To one large ballas ruby wraped in paper value £4.” Thus humbly disguised and lowly priced the Black Prince’s ruby passed to some unknown purchaser. He may have been a Royalist in disguise, or he may have been a dealer in stones, or this may have been a spurious deal to favour a Parliamentarian whom it was wished to gratify; perchance even it passed by favour to a fair lady beloved of a Roundhead. But whatever its adventures during the Commonwealth era, we find the ruby safe and sound back in the State Crown of Charles II.
As is related in the account of Colonel Blood’s attempt to steal the Crown,[[20]] for convenience of porterage the arches were battered in and the rim bent double, so that it might conveniently be slipped into a bag carried for the purpose. During this rough treatment many of the stones fell out, and amongst others the great ruby, which, when the marauders were captured, was found in Parrett’s pocket. That this large ballas ruby, as it is described, was the Black Prince’s ruby is very clearly evident, because the setting of Charles II’s State Crown is still in existence, in which may be seen a vacant hole the exact size and shape of the Black Prince’s ruby. Curiously enough, this historic setting is not State property, but passed into private possession, and was last owned by the late Lord Amherst of Hackney.
The ruby is not set clear, but has a gold backing, how ancient is not known, but so old that no jeweller will run the risk of taking it off to weigh and accurately measure the stone. Messrs. Rundell and Bridge more than a century ago refused to do so, and Messrs. Garrard, the Court Jewellers, at this day would be equally diffident. A stone so old as this, though apparently perfectly sound, is not wisely put to so severe a strain as might be occasioned in removing the gold setting.
That was the latest great adventure which is recorded of the ruby. From that time to this, a stretch of two and a half centuries, it has passed in succession to thirteen Kings and Queens of England, and now occupies the pride of place in front of the State Crown of King George V, and rests secure and safe in the Tower of London.
More famous even than the Black Prince’s ruby, and with perhaps an even more exciting history, is the great diamond known throughout the world by the name given to it many centuries ago in the East, Koh-i-Nur, or Mountain of Light. This priceless jewel was found in the diamond-fields of Golconda in Southern India, and is first heard of when in the possession of the King of Golconda. The King of Golconda was a petty chieftain much too insignificant to own so great a stone, the fame of which had spread throughout India, and stretched its alluring light so far north as the throne of the Great Mogul at Delhi. The Great Mogul at this time was the Emperor Shah Jehan, and as Golconda was some 1500 miles from Delhi, the ordinary procedure of sending an army to knock Golconda on the head and seize the jewel was not feasible. Shah Jehan, therefore, employed such guile and diplomacy as is dear to the Oriental heart to obtain his desire in a less expensive manner. Thus by bribery and cajolery the jewel passed, and quite fittingly from a historic point of view, into the hands of a great monarch.
The Koh-i-Nur is first recorded as having been seen by a European in 1665, when the French traveller Tavernier was shown it, then in the possession of the Emperor Aurungzebe at Delhi. With the Great Moguls it remained till 1739, when it started on the more adventurous and tragic period of its career.
In that year the great invasion from the West, under Nadir Shah, King of Persia, swept through the Punjab and laid Delhi and the unworthy successor of great Kings at his feet. Mahomed Shah was the unworthy successor, and having lost his kingdom, thought that at any rate he would cling to the Koh-i-Nur, thereby to provide himself with food and sustenance for the remaining years of his life. To Nadir Shah the existence of the great stone was well known; indeed it was to be one of the great prizes of the war, but search where they would, neither he nor his army of followers could find the diamond. Where searchings and direct action failed, a little judicious love-making succeeded. Amongst Mahomed Shah’s large assortment of wives was one who was not impervious to the gallant attacks of one of the bright knights of the conquering hosts. In the intervals of talking about more engrossing subjects during their midnight meetings, this frail, comparatively fair, but undoubtedly indiscreet damsel, divulged the great secret.
From personal observation she declared, and who should know better than a lady who occasionally shared his couch and his affections, the Emperor Mahomed Shah kept the Koh-i-Nur day and night concealed in the folds of his turban. The bright but dusky knight immediately communicated this interesting piece of information to Nadir Shah. That potentate, instead of taking the commoner course of murdering the wearer of this valuable turban, or at the least committing burglary with violence, chose a more courteous but equally effective means of gaining possession of the diamond. He gave orders that a banquet should be prepared, and as the guest of honour invited Mahomed Shah. Again Nadir Shah did not mix ground glass with his guest’s food, nor did he poison his wine: two obvious methods; nor did he make him drunk and then steal the jewel. Neither was the gorgeous menial who waved a fan behind the royal diners instructed to thrust a dagger between the shoulder-blades of Mahomed Shah. The acquisition was much more diplomatically achieved.