IMAGINE precious metals, translucent enamels and coloured gemstones, brought together by a master goldsmith with breathtaking precision, and you have the very essence of Fabergé. This, however, is only part of its unique magic. The remainder derives from the splendour and romance of the imperial Russian court and a feudal regime that survived well into the 20th century, into the age of the motorcar and the telephone.
The Russian Revolution of 1917 and its tragic consequences for the Romanov dynasty brought Carl Fabergé’sbusiness to an abrupt end, but this was also the start of a perpetually beguiling era of collecting and scholarly research. Even before and certainly since the Russian Revolution of 1917, Fabergé’s work has been a failsafe attraction at the many exhibitions organised under the firm’s name and record-breaking queues have always been the norm. No comparable firm of goldsmiths and jewellers has been subject to the same level of historical scrutiny, inspiring more than 2,000 separate publications—my present offering is the latest contribution to Fabergé’s apparently limitless fame.
The late director of the British Museum, Sir John Pope-Hennessy (1913–94), once said that there is no relationship between a work of art and its value, but there is usually a consensus and, consequently, the very name Fabergé has become a byword for dizzy valuations—some of which have been made by me. The most public of them all was broadcast on an episode of the Antiques Roadshow in 2018, when I confidently valued a uniquely important Fabergé flower study at £1 million.
Denne historien er fra November 25, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra November 25, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
