About the Crown Jewels
Just a few royal and librarian musings
Sometimes I can be so irreverent. Queen Elizabeth is one of my—I hesitate to use the word, but for her, I think it’s ok—heroes. She was heroic, after all, a real dragon slayer. And yet the irreverence in me comes out as I consider the Imperial State Crown perched on her coffin. There’s a four-mile line queuing to walk around her coffin in Westminster Hall. (My amateur historian heart flutters a little bit to think of the famous events that unfolded in that splendid hall, i.e. the trial of the first King Charles.) What would happen, I can’t help wondering, if one of those people jumped out and tried to grab the crown? My imagination goes wild! Ninjas are swinging on cables that shoot out from the ceiling! They’ve got crossed machetes on their backs! They land, to tumultuous applause and whistling while the would-be thief is handcuffed and dragged away. The Crown Jewels (crown, orb and sceptre) are safe. The Queen rests easy. Whatever happens when you die, wherever you go, whatever you do, I’m sure that worrying about the Crown Jewels is not high on the list. Still, it’s comforting to think that if anyone in the queue to walk around the coffin is tempted to make a move, there might be ninjas ready to fly out. I guess it’s the librarian in me that can’t get over the weirdness of so many members of the public being so close to those 2900 (and one) precious stones. I’m an MLIS grad student and both of my classes this semester deal with access—and balancing that against preservation. The readings include a beautiful chapter by Christopher de Hamel, an eminent librarian of medieval manuscripts, about the Beatus. The Beatus, a manuscript from the Middle Ages about the apocalypse, is one of the crown jewels in the manuscript world. I love how he blends the past and the present, even comparing New York (the Beatus is housed at New York’s Morgan Library) and the ancient city depicted in the Beatus. “Manhattan is surely the most urban metropolis in the Western world,” he writes, drawing us to the great city described in Revelation 18, “the great city clothed in fine linen, in purple and scarlet, adorned with gold.”1 He sees jewels with pearls in the Life Insurance Building between 26th and 27th Streets on Madison Avenue, in this great city, “where all who had ships at sea grew rich by her wealth.”2 He notes the hustle and bustle, the endless noise, the sophisticated and exhilarating city, “with an edge of sin,” so thrilling to visit. “Everything in New York,” he goes on, “appears to be a headlong race against time.”3 And thus, he segues into reflecting on the end of the world! Hamel makes his way to the Morgan Library (and Museum!) and proceeds to take the reader through the rigorous, exclusive process of viewing the Beatus as a researcher. You must have clean hands to be given access to this treasure. The rules are clear: You have to view it on a bookstand in a windowless research room. The bookstand ensures that you don’t damage the binding. If you want to change the way it sits on the stands, a staff member’s assistance is necessary to ensure that the book is moved with tender, love, and care. Hamel details the “odyssey”4 of the Beatus, from hand to hand, from Spain to France, to England, and finally to New York. Henry Yates Thompson, a famous name in the manuscript collecting world, bought it in 1897. It was Thompson who sold it to J.P. Morgan in 1919. Imagine the Beatus manuscript making its final trip across the Atlantic Ocean. No doubt Morgan had ninjas of his own to ensure its safe passage.
The Jewel House at the Tower of London is where the Crown Jewels are kept. The Royal Collection Trust keeps them under armed guard.
Of course, jewels are different from manuscripts, in some ways. I mean, sure, manuscripts have monetary value and can be targets for theft, but the principle reason they are so jealously kept has more to do with their fragility than anything else. Librarians and archivists are tasked with the responsibility of preserving these things for posterity. Jewels, though, are objects of endless fascination to an entire subset of the royal fandom, to most of the royal fandom at large probably, and to a huge number of fashion-intrigued, arts-and-aesthetics-loving audiences. There are blogs devoted to obsession with the royal crowns and tiaras. I’m sure there are blogs about rare manuscripts, but I think it’s fair to say that the “manuscript fandom” is a bit more particular, dare I say peculiar, than the readership of The Court Jeweller™ website.5 There is something supremely romantic about jewels. Really fine pieces are generally gifted between romantic partners, in celebration of romantic occasions, and besides all that, there is something awesome about the idea of collecting and showing them. And stealing them! Think about all the movies about jewel theft. The way these movies are written, we in the audience find ourselves rooting for the thieves. In Ocean’s 8 (2018) Sandra Bullock epitomizes this bizarre hero of delinquency. In real life, though, librarians do not usually root for the lawbreakers. On the contrary, you’d better return those books on time or pay the fine, Buster. It is in our blood, as librarians, to recoil at the idea of precious objects falling into careless, irresponsible, untrained hands. The Imperial State Crown looks so vulnerable, sitting there on the coffin, while two lines of never-ending streams of people walk past it. Evening knowing how well it is defended, it’s hard to see it so exposed. The cameras alone are somewhat comforting, for who would be stupid enough to try and steal it under the full gaze of the worldwide livestream? Surely it’s only the movies (like Ocean’s 8) that people are that brazen?! Still, it reminds me of the importance of a balanced attitude. The Imperial State Crown was made for displays like this. It was made to be shown, not to sit in the dark. That enormous cabochon ruby reflects the sunlight so magnificently. This is what Elizabeth leaves behind, what she no longer has any use for—reflection and refraction. She was as rare as the double rainbow that appeared over Buckingham Palace within hours of the announcement of her death.6 But light must keep moving. It doesn't do anything else. It passes through form—wears it, dances with it, fights it, loves it—and then it…. goes on. Most of us, I think, are drawn to light for a reason, the same reason behind the universal admiration for rainbows, sunsets, and sunrises. For a moment in time, we perceive something as if from a higher source. And then it’s gone. The world of form intrudes again. We’re back to caring about… well, you know. Stuff.
Hamel, Christopher de. Meetings With Remarkable Manuscripts. Penguin, 2019. Chapter 5: The Morgan Beatus.
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The Court Jeweller. https://www.thecourtjeweller.com.
“Double Rainbow Appears Over Buckingham Palace as Crowd Mourns Queen Elizabeth II.” Press Association via Bloomberg. 8 September 2022. https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2022-09-08/double-rainbow-appears-over-buckingham-palace-as-crowd-gathers-to-mourn-queen.