Daisy Dunn

The art and science of Fabergé

Faberge’s products didn’t just defy comprehension, they were at the cutting edge of new developments

A French bulldog by Fabergé, carved from petrified wood, with an enamelled gold collar and diamond eyes, St Petersburg, circa 1912 [Private collection, images courtesy of Wartski, London] 
issue 20 November 2021

After all the magnificent presents she’d received from his workshop, Queen Alexandra was eager to meet the most famous jeweller in Russia. ‘If Mr Fabergé ever comes to London,’ she said to Henry Bainbridge, a manager of the design house, ‘you must bring him to see me.’ Peter Carl Fabergé paid a rare visit to the capital to inspect his new shop — the only one located outside the Russian empire — at 48 Dover Street in 1908. ‘The Queen wants to see me! What for?’ he asked an exasperated Bainbridge. ‘Well, you know what an admirer she is of all your things.’ Insisting that she would not wish to be troubled, Fabergé demurred, polished off his lunch and requested the time of the next train.

Fabergé, whose work for both Edwardian and Romanov society goes on display at the V&A this week, was by most accounts a modest man of immodest creativity.

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