About the Adventures of the Pitt or Regent Diamond

THE PITT OR REGENT.

Found by a Slave--Stolen by an English Skipper--Treachery and Murder--Sold for pound 1,000--Bought for pound 24,500--Resold to the Regent of France for pound 135,000--Stolen and Restored to the Garde-Meuble--Pawned to the Dutch--Redeemed and Worn by Napoleon the Great--Captured after Waterloo, and taken to Berlin--On View at the Paris Exhibition--Among the Crown Jewels of France, and Valued at pound 480,000.

First known as the "Pitt," then as the "Regent," this perfect diamond has a remarkable history. There are two stories of its original discovery. They do not differ sufficiently to cast a doubt upon the general facts. The second version of the narrative is easily reconcilable with the first.

The adventures of the "Pitt" begin very much on the lines of several other great stones. Cupidity, murder, remorse, are factors in the opening chapter. Trouble, political, social, and personal, accompany the gem to its latest resting-place. It was found by a slave in the Parteal mines, on the Kistna, in the year 1701. The story goes that, to secure his treasure, he cut a hole in the calf of his leg, and concealed it, one account says, in the wound itself, another in the bandages. As the stone weighed 410 carats before it was cut, the last version of the method of concealment is, no doubt, the correct one. The slave escaped to the coast with his property. Unfortunately for himself, and also for the peace of mind of his confidant, he met with an English skipper, whom he trusted with his secret. It is said he offered to give the diamond to the mariner, in return for his liberty, which was to be secured by the skipper carrying him to a free country. But it seems probable that he supplemented this with a money condition as well, otherwise the skipper's treatment of the poor creature is as devoid of reason as it is of humanity. The English skipper, professing to accept the slave's proposals, took him on board his ship, and having obtained possession of the jewel, flung the slave into the sea. He afterwards, so this first version of the narrative goes, sold the diamond to Mr. Thomas Pitt, governor of Fort St. George, for pound 1,000, squandered the money in dissipation, and finally, in a fit of delirium tremens and remorse, hanged himself.

There is no reason to doubt the substantial accuracy of this characteristic beginning of the adventures of the great diamond, with a trifling exception. The English sea captain sold it in all probability for pound 1,000, not to Mr. Pitt, but to Jamchund, at that time the largest diamond merchant in the East, who, it will be seen in the course of our history, sold it to Mr. Pitt for pound 20,400. The circumstances connected with his purchase of the gem, are fully related by Pitt himself, who, on his return to Europe in 1710, was suspected, and even openly accused, of having procured it by foul or unfair means. Amongst others Pope was supposed to point at something of the kind in the oft-quoted lines from the Man of Ross.

"Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,

An honest factor stole a gem away;

He pledg'd it to the Knight, the Knight had wit,

So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit."

These scandalous reports, to which, however much credence never seems to have been attached, having reached the ex-governor, at that time in Norway, he sent a letter from Bergen to the editor of the European Magazine for October, 1710, setting forth the true facts of the case. A certified copy of this document was carefully preserved in the Pitt family, and, in consequence of some fresh rumours regarding the early history of the diamond, was again published by them in the Daily Post for November 3, 1743, that is, seventeen years after Pitt's death. The chief passages bearing on the transaction are here subjoined from the latter source:--

"Since my coming into this melancholy place of Bergen, I have been often thinking of the most unparalleled villany of William Fraser, Thomas Frederick, and Sampa, a black merchant, who brought a paper before Governor Addison in council, insinuating that I had unfairly got possession of a large diamond, which tended so much to the prejudice of my reputation, and the ruin of my estate, that I thought necessary to keep by me the true relation how I purchased it in all respects, that so in case of sudden mortality, my children and friends may be apprized of the whole matter, and so be enabled thereby to put to silence and confound those and all other villains, in their base attempts against either.

"About two or three years after my arrival at Madras, which was in July, 1698, I heard there were large diamonds in the country to be sold, which I encouraged to be brought down, promising to be their chaperon, if they would be reasonable therein, upon which Jamchund, one of the most eminent diamond merchants in these parts, came down about December, 1701, and brought with him a large rough stone, about 305 mangelins, and some small ones, which myself and others bought. But he, asking a very extravagant price for the great one, I did not think of meddling with it; when he left it with me for some days, and then came and took it away again, and did so several times, insisting upon not less than 200,000 pagodas, and as I best remember, I did not bid him more than 30,000, and had little thoughts of buying it for that. I considered there were many and great risks to be run, not only in cutting it, but whether it would prove foul or clean, or the water good. Besides, I thought it too great an amount to venture home in one bottom, so that Jamchund resolved to return speedily to his own country, so that, I best remember, it was in February following he came again to me (with Vincaty Chittee, who was always with him when I discoursed about it), and pressed me to know whether I resolved to buy it, when he came down to 100,000 padagoes, and something under before we parted, when we agreed upon a day to meet and to make a final end thereof, one way or other, which I believe was the latter end of the aforesaid month, or beginning of March, when we met in the consultation room, when, after a great deal of talk, I brought him down to 55,000 padagoes, and advanced to 45,000, resolving to give no more and he likewise not to abate, so delivered him up the stone, and we took a friendly leave of one another. Mr. Benyon was then writing in my closet, with whom I discoursed what had passed, and told him now I was clear of it; when, about half-an-hour after, my servant brought me word that Jamchund and Vincaty Chittee were at the door, who, being called in, they used a great many expressions in praise of the stone, and told me he had rather I should buy it than anybody; and, to give an instance thereof, offered it for 50,000. So, believing it must be a pennyworth if it proved good, I offered to part the 5,000 padagoes that were between us, which he would not hearken to, and was going out of the room again, when he turned back, and told me I should have it for 49,000. But I still adhered to what I had before offered him, when presently he came to 48,000, and made a solemn vow he would not part with it for a pagadoe under; when I went again into the closet to Mr. Benyon, and told him what had passed, saying that if it was worth 47,500 it was worth 48,000. So I closed with him for that sum, when he delivered me the stone, for which I paid him honourably, as by my books doth appear. And I here further call God to witness that I never used the least threatening word at any of our meetings to induce him to sell it to me; and God Himself knows it was never so much as in my thoughts so to do. Since which I have had frequent and considerable dealings with this man, and trusted him with several sums of money, and balanced several accounts with him, and left upwards of 2,000 padagoes in his hands at my coming away. So had I used the least indirect means to have got it from him, would he not have made himself satisfaction, when he has had my money so often in his hands? Or would I have trusted him afterwards, as I did preferable to all other diamond merchants? As this is the truth, so I hope for God's blessing upon this and all my other affairs in this world, and eternal happiness hereafter.--Written and signed by me in Bergen, July 29, 1710.--THO. PITT."

On the back of this declaration the following words are written:--"In case of the death of me, Tho. Pitt, I direct that this paper, sealed as it is, be delivered to my son, Robert Pitt."

In publishing this document the editor of the Daily Post observes that he does so "at this time of day" (that is seventeen years after Pitt's death), "by desire, and hopes that the following piece will give satisfaction to all those who may still suspect that that gentleman did not fairly come by the said stone."

No doubt Pitt drove rather a hard bargain with Jamchund; but there was otherwise nothing dishonourable or even unusual in the transaction. It will be noticed that in this account there is no reference to the story of the slave, about which neither Pitt nor Jamchund were likely to know anything. The governor was evidently under the impression that the dealer had brought the stone with many others down from the diamond-fields, while the dealer, if he picked up such a gem for pound 1,000 from a sea-captain on the coast, would naturally abstain from asking any indiscreet questions, whatever his suspicions might be. The fact that Jamchund ultimately closed for 48,000 pagodas, or a little over pound 20,000, after asking 200,000 pagodas, or pound 85,000, would almost imply that he was glad to get rid of the diamond "at a sacrifice," because conscious that the circumstances attending its purchase would not bear any severe scrutiny.

Pitt's account of his share in the transaction was afterwards fully confirmed by Mr. Salmon who was present on the occasion. Yet it appears that the stone, which had been consigned by Pitt to Sir Stephen Evance, of London, and sent home in the ship Bedford, (Captain John Hudson), was charged in the original bill of lading at 6,500 pagodas only. This might have been done either to save freight, or more probably to avoid attracting attention to the stone, and thereby exposing it to the risk of being stolen.

The diamond was cut very skilfully in London, and in the process, which lasted two years, it was reduced from 410 to 136 3/4 carats. The editor of the Museum Britannicum stated at the time that the cutting and polishing cost pound 5,000, and Jeffries, who points out the mistake made in the operation, and shows how it might be improved, remarks that there is only one small speck, and that placed in such a position as not to be detected in the setting. He also says that another pound 5,000 was spent in negotiating its sale to the Regent, Duke of Orleans, who purchased it in 1717, during the minority of Louis XV., for pound 135,000. The cleavage and dust obtained in the cutting were also valued at from pound 7,000 to pound 8,000, so that Pitt must have netted at least pound 100,000 by his venture. With this he restored the fortunes of the ancient house of Pitt, which was destined later on to give to England two of her greatest statesmen and orators, for the governor of Fort St. George was grandfather of the great Earl of Chatham, father of the illustrious William Pitt. He was born at Blandford, in Dorsetshire, where he was buried in May, 1726. In the funeral oration preached on the occasion by the Rev. Canon R. Eyre, the following reference was made to the "diamond scandal:"--"That he should have enemies no wonder, when envy will make them, and when their malice could reach him in no other way, it is as little to be wondered at that they should make such an attempt upon his credit by an abusive story as if it had been by some stretch of his power that he got that diamond which was of too value for any subject to purchase, an ornament more fitly becoming an Imperial crown, which if it be considered, may be one reason why it was brought to the governor by the merchant who sold it in the Indies, and it was brought to him once or twice before he could be persuaded to part with so great a sum of money for it, as it cost him."

Even after refuting the calumnies of his enemies, Pitt knew little rest until he was quit of his costly jewel. He was constantly haunted by a morbid fear of losing or being robbed of it, so that it was with great difficulty he could ever be induced to exhibit it even to his most intimate friends. The German traveller, Offenbach, when visiting England in 1712, anxious to see all the sights of the metropolis, made several vain attempts to get a view of the gem, which had already become famous throughout the West. While it remained in his possession the ex-governor never slept two nights running under the same roof. He moved about capriciously, or in disguise, and never gave previous notice of his arrival to, or departure, from town.

At last he was relieved of further anxiety by the negotiations, in consequence of which the "Pitt" became, the "Regent," passing from its English owner into the hands of the Duke of Orleans, Regent of France, in 1717. After being cut in the form of an almost faultless brilliant, a model of the diamond was taken, which is now in the British Museum, and on the silver frame is engraved the legend: "This is the model of Governor Pitt's diamond, weight 136 1/2 carats; was sold to Louis XV. of France, A.D. 1717." This model, or rather a duplicate without the frame, had been sent to Paris and submitted to the famous Scotch financier John Law, at that time at the height of his power in France. Law took the stone first to the Regent, and then to the Duc de Saint Simon, who gives a full account of the affair in his Memoirs. Saint Simon agreed with Law that France ought to possess a gem which up to that time was incomparably the finest ever seen in Europe. Yielding to their combined efforts, the Regent at last consented to purchase it for pound 135,000, including pound 5,000 for the negotiations, a euphemistic expression, which, translated into plain language, meant a bribe for Law. Money, however, was just then so scarce, that the interest alone was paid on the amount, jewels being given as security for the principal until it was paid off. This price, great as it may appear to be, was even then regarded as much below its real value, and in the inventory of the French Crown Jewels, drawn up in 1791, it is valued at 12,000,000 francs, or pound 480,000.

The year after the preparation of this inventory which was made by a commission of the most experienced jewellers in Paris, the whole of the French Regalia disappeared, and with it the "Pitt," now the "Regent," which stood at the head of the list. The remarkable circumstances attending this famous robbery of the Garde-Meuble are thus related by M. Breton, editor of the Gazette des Tribuncaux:--

"The inventory of the Crown diamonds, made in 1791, in virtue of a decree of the Constituent Assembly, had scarcely been completed in the month of August, 1792, at the time of the last public exhibition, which took place on the first Tuesday of every month. After the sanguinary events of August 10th to September 2nd, this rich treasury was naturally closed to the public, and the Paris Commune, as representing the State property, put its seals on the cabinets in which had been placed the crown, the sceptre, and other ornaments of the coronation service. The golden shrine, bequeathed by Cardinal Richelieu to Louis XIII., with all the accompanying diamonds and rubies, and the famous golden vase, weighing 106 marks, besides a vast quantity of other vases in agate, amethyst, and rock crystal. On the morning of September 17th, Sergent and the two other commissioners of the Commune, perceived that during the night robbers had made their way in by scaling the colonnade from the side of the Place Louis XV., and through a window looking in that direction. having thus got access to the vast halls of the Garde-Meuble, they had broken the seals without forcing the locks, carried off the priceless treasures contained in the cabinets, and disappeared without leaving any other traces of their presence. Several persons were arrested, but released after a protracted enquiry. An anonymous letter, addressed to the Commune stated, that some of the stolen objects were in a ditch in the Allee des Veuves, Champs-Elysees. Sergent at once proceeded with his colleagues to the spot, which had been very carefully indicated. Here were found amongst other things the famous "Regent" diamond, and the no less famous agate-onyx cup, known by the name of the Abbe Suger's Chalice, which was afterwards placed in the cabinet of antiques in the National Library.

"Notwithstanding the investigations made at the time and subsequently, it remained uncertain whether this robbery had a political object, or whether it was simply the act of ordinary criminals, undertaken at a time when the guardians of the public security were in a state of complete disorganization. Some said that the proceeds of these treasures were intended to maintain the army of the emigrants. Others, on the contrary, pretended that Pethion and Manual had used them to obtain the evacuation of Champagne, by giving up the whole to the King of Prussia. Some even went so far as to assert that the keepers themselves had broken open the cabinets, and Sergent, of whom we have above spoken, was nick-named Agate, in consequence of the mysterious way in which he had found the agate-onyx cup. But none of these more or less absurd surmises ever received any judicial confirmation.

"Nevertheless, there was one circumstance of which I was witness, jointly with the others present at the sitting of the special criminal court of Paris, when Bourgeois and others accused of having forged notes on the Bank of France, were put upon their trial in 1804. One of the accused, who had assumed the name of Baba, had at first denied all the charges brought against him. But during the proceedings he made a complete confession, and explained the ingenious devices employed by the forgers. 'It is not the first time,' he added, 'that my revelations have been useful to society, and if I am now condemned, I will implore the emperor's pardon. But for me, Napoleon would never have mounted the throne; to me alone is due the success of the Marengo campaign. I was one of the robbers of the Garde-Meuble. I had assisted my associates to bury in the Allee des Veuves the 'Regent' and the other easily recognized objects, by which they might have been betrayed. On the promise of a free pardon, a promise which was faithfully kept, I disclosed the hiding-place. Here the 'Regent' was recovered, and you are aware, gentlemen, that this magnificent diamond was pledged by the first Consul to the Dutch Government, in order to raise the money, of which he stood in the greatest need after the 18th Brumaire."

"The criminals were all condemned to the galleys except Bourgeois and Baba, who were sent to the prison of Bicetre, where they died. I do not know whether Baba made any further revelations beyond what I have reported, and which may also be read in the Journal de Paris of that date."

Since its recovery and redemption from the Dutch Government, the "Regent" seems to have remained in the French treasury to the present time. The first emperor is known to have worn it in the pommel of his sword, and Barbot tells us expressly that it was publicly shown amongst the Crown jewellery, at the Paris Exhibition of 1855. Still it is remarkable that this brilliant does not figure in the inventory of the State Jewels, drawn up by order of Napoleon in 1810, nor apparently in any of the subsequent official reports on the Crown jewels. This circumstance, however it is to be explained, has doubtless, lent some colouring to the many conflicting statements regarding its subsequent vicissitudes. Kluge asserts that after its recovery in 1792, it was pledged, not to the Dutch Government, but to Treskow a merchant in Berlin. He also refers to the highly improbable report that, after the battle of Waterloo, where the Prussians found it in the Emperor's State carriage, it was carried off to the Prussian treasury. If it really was taken to Berlin on that occasion, it was subsequently restored to the French Government, for Ersch and Gruber, writing in 1833, distinctly state that at that time it was "the first diamond in the French treasury." Barbot also justly regards it as the most conspicuous gem in the now disused crown of France. This crown, which also contains eight other diamonds, weighing from 19 to 28 carats, is thus by far the richest in the world.

The form of the "Regent," is somewhat round, an inch broad, 1 1/6 of an inch long, and 3/4 of an inch thick. It was reduced in cutting from 410 to 136 7/8 carats, and has been estimated to be worth pound 480,000.