“May I help you?” someone addressed her.
Gerel looked up. A woman, who seemed to have sprung out of nowhere, was standing right in front of her. She wore a museum staff badge on her blue parka, her weathered face reddish brown, a matching woolen scarf wound tightly around her neck.
“I’m looking for the Empress Seal . . .”
“Right here, miss. Come right in.” The woman gestured to the display hall on the right side. Her smile beamed enthusiasm.
“Wow, you knew what I was looking for before I even finished what I was going to say.”
“Everybody in China knows the story of the Empress Seal, it’s a big deal, part of our history.” The woman guided Gerel into the exhibit hall but stopped right at the entrance as if she knew Gerel was the type who preferred to browse undisturbed. “The Empress Seal is located at the center of the hall, you won’t miss it. But do let me know if you need anything.”
The stroll to the center of the hall was like journeying into a private paradise of a by-gone empire, bursting with colors more vivid than the Flower Parterre in the Palace of Versailles. Myriad cloisonné decorative art vibrated with beauty, creations that reflected reverence for nature, Buddhism, and the Son of Heaven. The cloisonné technique was ingeniously applied to a variety of materials other than metal: Room screens with scenes of majestic mountains and resplendent waterfalls, a radiant Buddha paneled on black lacquer glittering with gold, a three-foot tall ornate clock rendered in gold-pigmented cloisonné—a gift from France to one of the Emperors of the Qing Dynasty. A magnificent throne of fine woodcarving with jade and gemstone inlays. Interesting, enamel and cloisonné, who learned from whom?
Mesmerized, Gerel imagined what it would have been like to be the Emperor walking through this paradise, surrounded by objects of exquisite beauty.
“I see you’ve found it,” a soft voice nudged Gerel out of her reverie. The guide was back with a stack of leaflets in hand. “I brought you the exhibition brochure for the Empress Seal, just arrived yesterday.” She handed one to Gerel. “I’m expecting a group of middle schoolers later this morning so I need to get these ready for them. Have you seen the Empress Seal?”
“Not yet, I was just admiring all the beautiful pieces along the way. The enamel art is quite big in France, but I’ve never seen anything like these before.”
“You’re from France?” The guide seemed surprised.
“Yes?”
“Well, the Empress Seal has something to do with France, you’ll see. I’ll leave you alone for now, but I’ll come look for you later in case you have questions. Enjoy the viewing, she’s right there.” The guide tilted her chin toward the other side of the hall, then quietly stepped away.
In a crystalline council table exhibit case, the Empress Seal seemed to have taken on a glow of tranquility, as if content to lay in repose after being in the middle of fanfare and ruckus for weeks. To Gerel’s surprise, the Empress Seal was not alone. Next to her lay a dazzling stamp seal, larger yet similar in design and color. A quick glance at the bylines revealed that it was the Emperor Seal, a gift from the French ambassador to the Emperor of the Qing Dynasty of late nineteenth century. It had been created by the Cartier House in Paris. The image of the seal remained in Cartier House’s archives to this day. It was a column of blue cloisonné encircled with a pure gold dragon, its white jade face etched with a fleur-de-lis.
André will be thrilled to know the Emperor Seal has survived the turmoil of the past century. But its display next to the Empress Seal was a bit odd. Artistically, the two seals belonged together, perfect mates. They evoked a rich historical atmosphere. But somehow Gerel had imagined the presence of the Empress Seal here in the Forbidden City a glorious but solitary one. That presence was diminished by the much larger Emperor Seal. Maybe the display was intended to showcase the common cloisonné technique beloved by the two countries. Still, Gerel wished the two seals were shown separately.
Gerel opened the tri-fold brochure the guide had given her. On the inside front cover an introduction praised the noble William Blackwell IV, how he’d volunteered to return the Empress Seal, a piece of rare treasure that had been in his family for generations. How the seal ended up in the Blackwell family was never mentioned, its message to all the “shadowy owners” of treasured art was subtle but clear—time to return stolen masterpieces to their rightful owners. The middle interior panel of the pamphlet detailed the time period the Empress Seal was commissioned, a breakdown of the metals and gemstones used, and the techniques applied. Nothing Gerel wasn’t already familiar with.
Next, Gerel eyed the outside flap—History of the Two Seals. Exactly what she was looking for.
The catalyst for the creation of the Empress Seal is said to have been the red stone worn as a pendant by the noble consort Meigui, while the design itself followed that of the Emperor Seal which was a gift given to the Chinese Emperor by the French Ambassador in 1881. The famed Cartier House created the commissioned Emperor Seal as a token of the French Monarchy’s appreciation for the Qing Dynasty Emperor’s desire to reform. He wanted to turn China into a republic that was open to trade and western political and cultural ideas. The noble consort Muigai is believed to have held strong Christian faith in secret and was a supporter of the Emperor’s reform ideas. It is said she very much appreciated the connotations of the fleur-de-lis face of the Emperor Seal. Muigai’s chief eunuch once heard the noble consort revealing to the Emperor her profound yet paradoxical interpretation of the meaning of the fleur-de-lis—purity, corruption, strength, and aggression, just as she believed that her name Muigai, or Rose, was a symbol of love and passion, as well as lust and sin.
If the Emperor was attracted to Muigai’s extraordinary physical beauty, his affection for her grew deeper because of her unusual intellect. Thus, he commissioned the Empress Seal. The face of the seal was a red stone etched with a rose, symbolic of Muigai’s name. It was a sign that the Emperor—in defiance of his Dowager Mother— considered Mmegi the real Empress of his dynasty.
Unfortunately, the royal love story ended tragically. Muigai’s alleged unfaithfulness to the Emperor brought her the punishment of death. She was ordered to commit suicide. On a dark night, Muigai threw herself in the well in the back courtyard of the Rose Pavilion. From then on, the Empress Seal was never seen in the Forbidden City. Until now.
The creation, the disappearance, and the return of the Empress Seal have captivated the imagination of many, both here and abroad. Because the two seals were bound together in love and tragedy they were designated as permanent collections of the Palace Museum and displayed as companion seals. They represent not only a piece of the Chinese dynasty, but also the political and cultural ties between China and France that have lasted over centuries.
Gerel gazed again at the Empress Seal. On previous occasions her artist’s eyes had been drawn to the technique of fusing intricate pieces of gold and gemstone onto metal. Now, the aura of the red rose outshined the glow of the spiraling golden phoenix. A red rose, symbol of love and passion, lust and sin. Gerel had long believed that religion was a set of well-intended but impractical rules. Human beings had the uncanny ability to bend or completely disregard those rules when convenient. She had long considered herself a non-believer. But now, she felt a rather deep connection with Meigui, a concubine of Christian faith, of a different time. Maybe a part of me is deeply rooted here after all. For the first time Gerel was glad she’d allowed Blackwell to convince her to make an effort to trace her lineage, though that’s not the only reason she’d extended her stay in Beijng.
Gerel had considered her association with Blackwell forced by André, and by herself. For André, it was important to forge a professional relationship with Blackwell, leverage his celebrity status to gain publicity for the luxury brand name Cartier House. To her, it was a step closer to the fame and independence enjoyed only by the elite few in the high-art world of jewelry design. And to stick it to her father that she, Gerel Garnier, his unwa
nted daughter, was capable of ascending to the crème de la crème of France, just like all the male Garniers before her.
Yet, painful as it was, Gerel was keenly aware that no matter how she and André spun it, they were both self-serving and wanted the same thing out of their association with Blackwell.
When she first met Blackwell at his townhome in London to deliver the replicated Empress Seal, her dislike of him was almost immediate. “This is superb, even I can’t tell it’s a replica,” Blackwell had said, his fingers gently tracing the golden bird circling the seal. But Gerel could feel the darts in his eyes, probing her jacket, piercing her skirt. “I knew I made the right choice, asking you to be the artist for this rather difficult yet delicate task. But of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Your insight of nineteenth century Qing Dynasty art had to be remarkable. You’ve already designed an imperial court jewelry collection for the famed Cartier House. You’ve already made quite a splash in the world.”
“You’re very kind, Mr. Blackwell. I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”
“The honor is all mine. And call me William, please.” More darts flew from his eyes. “Well, Mr. Lacroix at Cartier said that one of your ancestors was from Beijing, am I right?”
Gerel nodded politely. Damn, André, you and your loose lips. “Mr. Lacroix sometimes likes to dramatize things. We all have to come from somewhere.”
“Of course. Isn’t there a saying that after awhile everybody will be related to each other? But in such a high-end business, your lineage could help generate good publicity for your work,” Blackwell said shrewdly.
“I’d prefer to let my work speak for itself.”
“You’re a talented artist, Gerel, may I call you Gerel? But you also need to develop a persona to get your clients to part with their fortunes for your artistic creations. Clients like me. I happen to think your lineage, if used cleverly, could thrust you from a talented artist to a famed one. Isn’t that all artists dream of?”
Sad, but true. Artistic talent and creativity alone wouldn’t put her on the pedestal in the field of couture jewelry design, how she projected her image as an artist was equally important. She’d billed herself as the go-to couturier of period jewelry design. Her creations were fusions of the styles worn by nobles and royals of the imperial courts centuries ago. She’d made herself semi-famous. But the path to a design house with her own name on the front door still stretched far ahead, rough and bumpy. Should she listen to William Blackwell, a man so arrogant and conceited, but who seemed to be able to pave the road to the pedestal she so desperately coveted? Trace my lineage, if great-grandmother Lis was indeed born in the Forbidden Palace, then I am everything my clients—clients like William Blackwell—would want to see. If I as the artist could trace my lineage and spin it cleverly, history could mix with mystery and even a concubine could shine with the aura of nobility . . .
The “should’s” and “if’s” had been swirling in her mind since her first meeting with Blackwell. But it wasn’t until two days ago, when she and Blackwell had a drink at the bar of the Four Seasons Hotel before attending the last Chinese state-hosted banquet, that she thought she’d finally allowed Blackwell to convince her to wander the mysterious land behind the walls of the Forbidden City. She wouldn’t be tracing her lineage, she’d be experiencing her lineage.
Or maybe Blackwell had never convinced her of anything. Fate had led her to the Empress Seal. Now the Empress Seal had led her to Meigui.
Gerel felt a sense of destiny envelope her.
For generations the Garnier family was famed for having dedicated their lives to applied sciences. They were doctors, engineers, and architects. Gerel’s grandfather and great-grandfather were both architects who’d immortalized the Garnier name on iconic landmarks in France. Her uncle had designed nuclear energy facilities to power the whole country. Her father was one of the country’s renowned neurosurgeons. The family was proud of the French blood in their veins. But they also had a secret, known only within the confines of the family.
Back in 1881, a baby girl wrapped in a silk blanket patterned in blue and gold—an indication that she was from the imperial court—was delivered by a young woman to the French missionary house in Beijing. A hand-written note inside the blanket claimed that the baby was the daughter of a concubine in the imperial palace, and that she was in danger. It was said that the nuns at the missionary house raised the baby girl and later brought her to France to be adopted by a couple in Paris. Many years later, Lis, the girl who could have been the daughter of the Emperor and his concubine, was married into the Garnier family. She was Gerel’s great-grandmother.
As a little girl, Gerel only knew her great-grandmother from her maman, who’d told her that Lis had come from a faraway place. Maman had bought her picture books of the famed Forbidden City and the Great Wall. “That’s where great-grandmother Lis came from and we’ll go there one day.” Little Gerel used to stare at the faded wedding portrait in her grandparents’ house, imagining Lis a princess living in a palace. But whenever she asked her father about Lis, he always said that she came from an orphanage in Paris. “Your maman’s imagining things.”
The teenage Gerel was more difficult to convince when it came to where great-grandmother Lis really came from. But maman was gone by then, so Gerel badgered her father relentlessly. One of her parents was not telling the truth. Her father gave in and admitted that Lis was adopted from an orphanage in Paris, but only after some nuns had brought her over from China. So maman had been right, great-grandmother Lis came from the Forbidden City. So why didn’t her father want to talk about it? She’d pressed on, yet her father’s answers were vague, full of “might,” “could,” and “perhaps.” Soon Gerel figured it out herself. Great-grandfather Garnier fell in love with Lis, the girl from the Forbidden City. But the Garniers after him seemed to have concerns with who Lis’s mother was. Concubines and whores, even the sound of the words could not be remotely associated with the stellar reputation of the Garnier family.
The adult Gerel had never mentioned great-grandmother Lis to anyone except André. She’d never regretted doing that. He’d come along during the most difficult time in her life, guided her and nurtured her. Without him, she’d still be struggling to come up with her next month’s rent. She’d only wished that André hadn’t gone so far as mentioning her lineage in the marketing blurbs he’d come up with for her period jewelry collection. Of course, no emperor or concubine was ever mentioned. But Gerel was never sure if the connection between Lis and the Forbidden City was real or if, as her father said, it was just her mother’s imagination.
The peace and quiet in the Enamel Hall were suddenly rippling with youthful prattle and laughter. Gerel remembered what the guide had told her; the school children were here. Gerel decided she’d get out of their way. As she tried to exit the hall, a large group of teenagers crowded the doorstep. Two adult women, teachers obviously, were commanding the students to line up, two at a time, so they could file into the hall in an orderly fashion. The guide, meanwhile, was standing at the door, leaflets in hand, patiently waiting to perform her docent duty.
“I hope you enjoyed the visit. Sorry I couldn’t be with you back there.” The guide gave Gerel an apologetic smile and peered at the teens chatting like a flock of magpies.
Gerel glanced at the English name on the guide’s badge. “You’ve been very helpful, Jane. I have a quick question, though.”
“Yes?”
“What really happened to Meigui? Was it true she killed herself or was it just palace gossip?”
“It’s true. The Rose Pavilion, together with the well, have been preserved. It’s near the Imperial Garden. A bit of a walk from here, but the garden itself is worth a visit,” Jane said. “You’ll see the directions to the pavilion on the map section in your museum pamphlet.”
Gerel thanked her and went on her way.
The Imperial Garden was nestled deep in the back palace, an oasis dotted with evergreens and cent
uries-old wisteria vines. Amid a constellation of multi-hued pavilions and teaming coi ponds, a pebble footpath led Gerel away from the center of the garden and guided her to an arched gate through which she could see the red window shutters of the dwelling on the other side.
Once she walked through the gate, Gerel discovered that the Rose Pavilion, Meigui’s old living quarters, was a moderate sized one-story structure with a roof of golden tiles. Shrubberies lined the entire front and trees hugged both sides of the pavilion, their leafless branches an image of stark winter elegance. They were rose bushes and pomegranate trees, according to the pamphlet. Gerel lingered in the front yard for a moment, visualizing the flaming pomegranates and fiery rose blossoms of early summer.
The foyer of the Rose Pavilion, once used to receive guests, was occupied by several exhibit cases, displaying an array of Meigui’s jewels and dresses. Gerel found the dresses especially amazing, delicately embroidered silks and brocades, tight-fitting with narrow sleeves, all in style of the Manchus, the ethnic minority who’d ruled the Qing Dynasty. Great-grandmother Lis could be a Manchu. Gerel had never thought that way, quite a revelation.
Further in, a narrow corridor led to the back room—Meigui’s boudoir. Walking through the corridor she noticed two wall plaques hanging side by side. In both Chinese and English, they chronicled Meigui’s life there from a lowly concubine to the noble consort who once had the Emperor of the Qing Dynasty at her feet. The chronology ended in 1881, stating that Meigui’s death was due to her alleged unfaithfulness to the Emperor. There were a few lines in smaller print at the bottom of the plaque:
The Empire and Meigui had a daughter, born approximately a year before Meigui’s death. However, the child mysteriously disappeared on the night Meigui died. The child was never found and despite the large reward offered by the Empress Dowager, nobody ever came forward with information of the child’s whereabouts.
The Face of the Seal Page 12