Read My Pins_ Stories From a Diplomat's Jewel Box - Madeleine Albright [5]
The United States, of course, has never desired a crowned head and thus has no crown jewels—though the Smithsonian Institution has the Hope diamond and other extraordinary gems. Early Americans provided proof that jewelry is not the province solely of royalty. American Indians were skilled at fashioning white, purple, and black beads out of the shells of periwinkles and clams. The beads, known as wampum, were used to record treaties and for other purposes both spiritual and practical. Like a royal crown, beaded headpieces, necklaces, and belts were employed by American tribes to connote leadership status; as with other jewels, wampum might be exchanged to acquire goods, express friendship, pay reparations, or facilitate peace.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION NATIONAL MUSEUM OF THE AMERICAN INDIAN
This wampum belt, sometimes referred to as the “Freedom” belt, is presumed to have been given to William Penn by the Lenape, or Delaware, Nation, as early as 1682. Courtesy of Smithsonian Institution National Museum of the American Indian.
For the New World’s European settlers, wampum served as legal tender alongside the coins brought from their homelands. Ever alert for ways to push the natives aside, the settlers learned quickly that the more wampum they accumulated, the easier it would be to buy local land. In the most famous transaction, Peter Minuit, an employee of the Dutch West India Company, purchased Manhattan and later Staten Island for a modest amount of wampum, fabric, and farming implements. The Norwalk Indians accepted a comparable bargain in Connecticut, selling much of what is now Fairfield County.
As these examples suggest, jewelry has played a colorful part in the evolution of world affairs. Because precious stones tend to inspire both admiration and greed, leaders have found convenient excuses for seeking them and have used them to impress crowds, reward friends, deprive foes, forge alliances, and justify war. Jewels may find their highest expression in the decorative arts, but they have also earned a place in the art of the possible.
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION NATIONAL MUSEUM OF THE AMERICAN INDIAN
A gift from two governors of Arizona, Janet Napolitano and Rose Mofford. Western Sun, Federico Jimenez.
Eagle Dancer, Jerry Roan.
The role of jewelry in politics first touched my life at an early age. I was eight when my father served as ambassador from our native Czechoslovakia to Yugoslavia, then headed by Marshal Tito, a formidable dictator. During a diplomatic ceremony in Belgrade, my mother was invited to sit in an anteroom with the wives of two other ambassadors. Suddenly, the door opened and a Yugoslav fighter dressed in faded fatigues strode in bearing a silver tray. On the tray were three velvet boxes; in each was a ring made from the appropriate birthstone. The box presented to my mother—she was born in May—revealed an emerald surrounded by fourteen diamonds. We called it Tito’s ring, and when my father first saw it, he growled, “I wonder whose finger they cut off to get this.” Both my parents spoke of the contrast between the pomp and extravagance of the Yugoslav regime and the desperate poverty that plagued the country’s people in those first years after World War II. Sometimes the finest jewelry is accompanied by moral complexity; there was no diplomatic way to return the gift. Instead, my parents waited until I had passed the orals for my Ph.D., then gave the ring to me.
GEORGE BENDRIHEM/GETTY IMAGES
This was my mother’s most valued pin, a gift from her sister.
GEORGE BENDRIHEM/GETTY IMAGES
Dignitaries gathered from around the world to attend the funeral of Yugoslav strongman Marshal Tito in Belgrade, 1980. I was standing off to the left, outside of the picture.
GEORGE BENDRIHEM/GETTY IMAGES
Tito’s ring, designer unknown.
COLLECTION OF THE AUTHOR
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