The Fabulous Art of Peter Carl Fabergé

Lilies of the Valley Faberge Egg

by Christopher Proudlove It stands just eight inches tall; it represents the fabulous art of Peter Carl Fabergé, jeweller to the last Czars of Imperial Russia and it must be one of the most exclusive Easter eggs imaginable. It is the Lilies of the Valley Egg (pictured) and it was commissioned from Fabergé by Nicholas II as a surprise gift to his mother, the Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna, to mark the Easter of 1898. Peter Carl Fabergé (1846-1920) had taken control of his father's modest St. Petersburg jewellery firm in 1870. Combining innovation with tradition in a refined aesthetic line of impeccable craftsmanship, he became jeweller by appointment to most European courts and suppliers of objets de luxe to the rich and noble. His firm of goldsmiths went on to employ 500 people in workshops of St. Petersbsurg, Moscow, Odessa, Kiev and London. And the young Czar Nicholas was used to giving expensive presents. His father, Alexander III, had started the fashion back in 1885 when he asked Fabergé to dream up something that would remind the Empress Marie of home. (She was a Danish princess, the daughter of King Christian IX). An Easter egg was the obvious choice. Ever since the beginning of time, the egg has symbolised new life and new hope. As early as the 13th century, Europeans were exchanging gifts of painted hens' eggs. The wealthy of the Middle Ages sometimes embellished these eggs with gold and jewells and later they included ingenious "surprises" concealed within the fragile shell.  Simplest of these surprise Easter eggs were made in wood in the 19th century by Russian peasants celebrating the Orthodox Church's most important festival. When unscrewed, these eggs revealed smaller and smaller ones, just like the famous Russian dolls. But other surprise eggs were on a more grand scale. Ingenious toys were the delight of European kings of the 18th century. Louis XV, for example, gave his mistress, Madame du Barry, a jewelled egg that contained a porcelain cupid. He, in return, received eggs painted by such masters as Boucher and Watteau.  An important egg is in the Danish Royal collection. Made from ivory, it contains surprise after surprise as it is unscrewed until comes the final gift of a diamond ring. This is reputed to have inspired Fabergé who fashioned for the Czarina an egg the same size as that of a hen's in white enamel on gold, the shell of which unscrewed to reveal a gold yolk. That separated in turn to show a golden hen with ruby eyes and a red gold beak and comb. Inside the tiny hen was a diamond studded replica of the Russian Imperial Crown, and inside that was a minute ruby pendant So enchanted was the Czarina that Alexander commissioned an egg from Fabergé every Easter until his death in 1894. Nicholas, the last of the Czars, continued the tradition but ordered two eggs, one for his mother, the other for his Czarina. According to the latest research carried out at the Central State Historical Archives in Leningrad, 54 Imperial eggs were produced by Fabergé. However, even if you could afford one, you're unlikely to find any; of the known surviving eggs, few are in private hands. The new Czar's coronation in 1897 inspired one of the most famous and exotic of all the Imperial Easter eggs in red gold, diamonds and enamels. Just 3½ inches long, the egg was covered with a trelliswork of gold foliage, intersected by black enamelled Imperial eagles. Inside, the egg contained a working model of the Royal Coronation coach, painstakingly crafted in gold which alone took 15 months to make.  Fabergé's inspiration came from a number of sources. The Lilies of the Valley Egg, for example, captures the richness of spring after a bitter Russian winter. The deep pink enamel egg is swathed in a bouquet of the flowers made from pearls and diamonds, with the Imperial Crown set in the top. When triggered, a secret mechanism fans out the concealed surprise: finely painted miniatures of Czar Nicholas and his two elder daughters, each in a tiny oval, diamond-set frame. The Cuckoo Egg, is another treasure, the magnificent gold, enamelled and jewelled table clock was crafted in 1900, and was the first of only six automaton eggs ever produced by Fabergé. When a button at the top rear of the egg is depressed, a circular, pierced grille opens and the bird rises on a gold platform, crowing and moving its wings and beak. When the crowing is finished, the bird drops back into the egg and the grille snaps shut. However, the bird is a cockerel and not a cuckoo, although Fabergé's eldest son Eugène (1874-1960) whose honour it was each year to deliver the surprise eggs to the Czarina on Easter morning, reckoned the egg was always referred to as the Cuckoo Egg. The ingenuity of Fabergé's surprises is exceptional. He made quartz snowdrops in a platinum basket in the Winter Egg of 1913; a tiny, gold singing bird in the Orange Tree Egg of 1911; and 12 revolving, miniature Imperial palaces in the Rock Crystal Egg of 1896. In contrast is the Steel Military Egg of 1916, the last to be presented before the Russian Revolution. Fabergé's acknowledged masterpieces, the eggs reflect the wealth and splendour of the Imperial court and of the epoch that ended with the Great War. Easter eggs of such grandeur were made by Fabergé for only a handful of customers apart from the Imperial Court. Among those few was Dr Emanuel Nobel, the Swedish petroleum magnate and nephew of Alfred Nobel, founder of the Nobel Prizes, while another was an egg made for the Duchess of Marlborough, the former Consuelo Vanderbilt, when she and the Duke visited Russia in 1902. A number of surprise Easter eggs are being made by today's master craftsmen. While none would hope to aspire to Fabergé's magnificence, they are nevertheless all collectables of the future. Why not commission one for your Czarina?