Get Your Eggs Here

I was born into a large family. A dynasty with offshoots and tendrils reaching back into history and sideways around planet earth. Our members are to be found in the strangest places and businesses. I have tried, on many occasions, to trace back a few generations and see how the family developed and to plot a diagram to show where they are now. It’s an impossible task. We can also count some famous names on the family tree. And a few infamous.

I have traced the family back to a village in what was part of the Russian empire. Jonas Fielding, the elder, was a goldsmith by trade. He apparently was well-known for his skilled work and people came from afar to buy gifts.

According to family legend, Jonas was in his studio one morning, working on an intricate Easter present for his wife when a stranger knocked on the door and walked in. “My name,” he said, “is Gustav Faberge. I am a jeweler and a goldsmith. I am also old and these days I pass the time in my studio making eggs. Eggs from gold, eggs from silver, eggs from copper. I came here to inspect your work and if I find it is at my level of work, I will suggest that you take over my studio in conjunction with my 2 sons.”

The legend goes on to tell us that Jonas joined the Faberge studio and together with Gustav’s 2 sons, they went on to produce an incredible selection of eggs. Jonas, however, decided to do some extra business on his own and spent all his free time alone in his own studio, ‘laying eggs’, following the methods he had learned from the Faberge family. Apparently the Fielding collection was bigger and equal to Faberge’s. Jonas was a methodical man. He kept strict records of what he made, what he sold, lists of materials he bought, and other items of his business. He also updated his will from time to time and detailed how his inventory of jewelry should be handled on his passing. In the meantime, his hoard of eggs grew to large numbers. He told only his wife and his sons of his spare-time activities and never allowed others into his small studio.

When his will was read some days after he died, his wife and children were anxious to hear what was to become of his jewelry collection. The will simply said, “Shall all be kept together as a single item. Access to this private collection can only be gained by following the sign.” That was it. His heirs, now itching to get their hands on the jewelry, looked at each other, searching faces for the one who knew where or what the sign was. No one looked guilty. And after some hours of guessing and arguing they left and went home. No one slept that night or for many nights after that. They knew the value of Faberge eggs which had become collector’s prize items and were being auctioned in the great auction houses in Europe. Fielding Eggs would fetch the same prices on auction. Or perhaps even more.   

What was The Sign? Where was The Sign? Jonas’s wife and children read the will time and again searching for a clue, a give-away, a hint of something that would give them a lead. Nothing. That generation passed on and the next generation took over what was now the family puzzle. They thought that new blood and new thinking would come up with an idea they had missed. No such luck. One of the Fieldings called in a Faberge descendant, told him the story of Jonas Fielding and asked if he had any ideas that may help them find the Fielding Eggs. But the Faberge man knew nothing.

The new generation took over the puzzle, now being played as a board game by Fielding descendants around the world. Meantime the value of the jewelry increased at a fantastic rate as old pieces were auctioned and collectors spent millions building their private hoards.

Now in the 21^st century, Jonas’s treasure must be worth millions. No one has the faintest idea of its whereabouts. So much so that the original studio, which was a wooden structure, had been demolished and the materials closely inspected under microscopes. Nothing.

I am in the line of direct descendants, a fourth or fifth generation. I’ve seen some of Faberge’s and great-grandpapa’s eggs on a trip to Moscow. They are masterpieces. Every one. Both men were great artists. Their names will live forever as true artists, not only of their generations but in history books. No one else has tried to emulate them and their works. Unfortunately, their skills weren’t passed down to their descendants.

I have devoted huge globs of my time following the story of the Faberge and Fielding eggs. Many of the eggs were lost during the Russian Revolution in 1917. The Faberge collectors’ society reckons 50 imperial eggs were made. Of these 43 are housed in museums and private collections. Most of these surfaced in the years following the revolution and ended up in museums. Some are still in private hands. The hunt for these and the identification still goes on. The numerous photographs of the eggs have tempted jewelers and artists to copy the originals.

One of the eggs on the original list went missing for some years. But, in 2014, an egg came onto the market and was identified as the missing Third Imperial Egg. A private collector from a jewelry company bought the egg on an auction in London. Experts estimated its value at about $33 million. That’s 7 years ago. What’s it worth now? 50 million? More? We have to find the sign. 

“Show me,” I said to my grandmother one day when we were in Moscow, “where the remnants of the studio are. I want to take another look.”

She guided me to the place. A sort of upper class garbage dump. Upper class in that it was neat and clean. She took me directly to a pile of timber, neatly stacked in a corner and labeled. “Where is the front door to the studio?” I asked. She pointed and I walked over. I was looking at the back of the door. I maneuvered it around so that it was facing me. On the front, neatly screwed on with a brass screw in each corner, was a nameplate.

‘Studio Fielding’

   ‘OPEN’

“Let’s find a screwdriver,” I said.

And the rest, as they say, is history