China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

Mei-Ling eyed the display. It was already handsome. Some of the seals lay on the shelf with their stamp face outward. Others, whose backs were elaborately sculpted, were displayed facedown so that one could admire the carving. The majority of the seals were wood and stone, but some were bronze or other metals, or even jade. In every case, the item was accompanied by a little square of thick paper displaying the stamp in red ink.

She noticed something else. Though both the shelves had been used, the seals were widely spaced, with the lower shelf reserved for the most special articles. Given that one could view from both sides, it was obvious that there was room for the collection to grow to two or three times its present size inside the existing case without its looking crowded.

The general had made his battle dispositions well. They were thorough, but also flexible.

Mei-Ling heard a grunt of admiration from Mr. Yao. The porcelain merchant knew a good display when he saw one.

The general was an excellent guide. He took them on a journey through time, showing how the seals had developed while often retaining elements of primitive Chinese characters from thousands of years ago. Several times he also paused in front of paintings on the wall. Some were mountain landscapes. Others depicted people or animals. In each case, the painting was graced with a few vertical lines of calligraphy, to which collectors had added their red stamps.

“Whenever I acquire a new seal,” the general explained, “I try to obtain a piece of work—a painting or a book—that bears the same stamp. A great collector’s stamp often adds value to a work of art, and it may add beauty, too. Of course I’m just a beginner, but the real connoisseur builds up a huge knowledge. He comes to see into the mind of both the artist and the collector. It starts like a game and becomes like a drug.” He smiled. “A good drug.”

At the end of his presentation he led them to the cabinet at the end of the room. He opened it and Mei-Ling saw a dozen of the long, handsome, leather-bound boxes that contained scrolls, and also a number of flat books bound with silk ribbon. He took one of the books out and pointed to its title page.

“This book dates from the Ming dynasty. It’s about the conquest of China by the Mongol descendants of Genghis Khan more than five centuries ago. As you can see, it has been stamped with a fine collector’s seal just beside the title.”

“We saw that on a painting,” said Bright Moon. “I recognize it.”

“You have an excellent eye.” The general bowed, and Bright Moon looked pleased. “But there’s something wrong with the title. I wonder if anyone can see what it is.”

They all looked.

“A character seems to be missing,” said Mr. Yao.

“Indeed. We can see the gap where it was.”

“So it’s been erased,” said Yao, “yet I can’t see any sign of the erasure.”

“Nor can I, my dear sir. It must have been done with great skill. And now I’ll tell you the missing word: Barbarian.” He beamed at them all. “Although the Mongols—the Yuan dynasty, as we call them—were all-conquering warriors, the Han Chinese still considered them barbarians. When the native Ming dynasty came to rule our land once more, they usually referred to the Yuan as ‘the Barbarian Yuan.’ And that’s what was written here: the Barbarian Yuan. But after some centuries the Ming were kicked out by our present dynasty, the Manchu—who I need hardly tell you were another group of barbarians from the north, part Mongol themselves. My people!” He gave a big grin. “We didn’t like the epithet barbarian being applied to the Yuan, because then it might just as well be applied to us.”

“Was the word forbidden then, throughout the empire?”

“An attempt at censorship was made, though never with much conviction. Funnily enough, it was some of the Manchu emperors themselves—as you know, they were quite scholarly—who got bored with it first. But the collector whose red stamp we’re looking at now, having acquired the book in Manchu times, wasn’t taking any chances. So he erased the word from the title page. Then he started to erase it from the text, but it must have been too much trouble, because I discovered that after a few pages he gave up.”

“You certainly do your homework,” said Mr. Yao.

“It’s my hobby,” the general replied easily. He turned to Bright Moon and Mei-Ling. “But I want you to know, ladies, that I understand my place. At the end of the day, I’m still just a humble barbarian from the north.”

It was nicely done. An exercise in self-deprecation by a Manchu noble to the family of an upstart Chinese gentleman—not to be taken seriously, but charming. Even Mei-Ling had to smile.

And she continued to smile, until she saw her daughter’s face.

Admiration. Suppressed excitement. It was understandable. Here was a man of a type she had not met before. A Manchu noble. A soldier-scholar. A man who showed her respect. A man of experience, a man of the world, a man who had the self-assurance to laugh at himself. A superior man. Younger than her husband.

It was just as she’d feared. Her daughter was about to fall in love with the general and destroy herself, and Mei-Ling didn’t know what she could do about it.

“Is there anything more to see?” Bright Moon asked.

“The only other seals I have are the most recent acquisitions. I keep them with me and study them in my private room upstairs until I’ve learned all I can about them. Then I put them in the showcase down here.” He turned to Mr. Yao. “I’ve never taken anyone up there before, but I can show you if you like.”

“By all means,” said Mr. Yao.

“There’s a nice view,” said Guanji to the ladies.

—

They went through a small garden beside the house,