The Island Where Time Stands Still (11 page)

‘Well, how was his grandfather selected? In 1913 Pu-yi was still Emperor of China, and remained there until driven out in the nineteen-twenties; so the heads of your Seven Families
must have created some precedent in selecting the Emperor they brought with them.'

A-lu-te looked at him gravely, and asked, ‘How much do you know of the history of the Imperial Family?'

‘Not very much; only that the Manchu dynasty dates back to the invasion of 1644, and that from about 1860 the Emperors were little more than puppets dominated by the old Dowager Empress.'

‘Then for you to understand our situation I must tell you of the way in which her influence affected the succession. The Emperor Tao-Kwang died in 1850. He had nine sons and was succeeded by the eldest, Hsien-feng. When the period of court mourning was over sixty girls, all of the noble Manchu families that form the eight Banner Corps, were summoned to the palace. From them the Empress Mother and the Chief Eunuch selected twenty-eight to form the harem of the young Emperor. Those chosen included two sisters, Sakota and Yehonala. The latter was classed only as a concubine of the third grade, but it was she who later became the Great Empress Mother. Sakota was a girl of exceptional beauty so Hsien-feng made her his Empress, but Yehonala fascinated him with her mind, and was soon assisting him with affairs of state; moreover she gave him a son, so he raised her also to the rank of Empress.

‘In 1861, Hsien-feng died. Two older Princes attempted to seize power but with the help of her girlhood sweetheart, Jung Lu, who commanded one of the Banner Corps, Yehonala outwitted them. She had her little son, Tung-chich, proclaimed Emperor, with her sister and herself as co-Regents. As you may imagine, Yehonala made Sakota Regent with her only for appearances' sake; and from that day on, for very nearly half a century she imposed her will upon everyone who played a part in the government of the Empire.

‘Perhaps business occupied so much of her time that she had none left to give to her son. In any case, the boy gave all his affection to his aunt, and by the time he became of an age to rule he thoroughly disliked his mother. In 1872, when he had reached the age of seventeen, the two Empresses selected
for him a number of women, and it was agreed between them that he should be allowed to decided for himself which he would have for first Imperial Consort. He chose a girl of fifteen named A-lu-te.'

Gregory looked up in surprise, and A-lu-te smiled at him. ‘Yes, I am named after her. The reason for that will be plain to you in a minute; and, as you will see, she plays a very important part in this story.

‘She was a girl of spirit and she disliked Yehonala as much as did her husband. Very soon the young couple were at daggers drawn with the Empress Mother, and she could no longer delay in making at least a show of handing power over to them. In China there is a saying “Who rides the tiger cannot dismount”, and Yehonala realised her danger. Tung-chich and his little Empress were scarcely more than children, and totally inexperienced, whereas Yehonala was wise in the ways of the Court and by her charm and intellect kept nearly all its principal personages bound to her interests. For a year or so she let her son make a fool of himself; then, early in 1875, he caught smallpox and died.'

A certain inflection in A-lu-te's voice made Gregory turn and glance at her. She shrugged her slim shoulders.

‘No one will now ever learn the truth about that. Tung-chich was a dissolute young man and had formed the habit of leaving the palace secretly at night to indulge in disreputable pleasures in the outer city. He had undermined his health by excessive dissipation and it is quite possible that he contracted the disease on one of those nocturnal forays. On the other hand, in old China there was a very unpleasant practice connected with the small rough towels, heated with steam, that it was customary to offer people for wiping their hands and faces whenever they entered theatres, restaurants or private houses. When it was desired to get rid of someone, these towels were first passed over the ulcerated face of a man who had smallpox.'

Gregory made a grimace. ‘What a revolting idea!'

‘Yes; but in the majority of cases effective; and a good way of evading the condemnation usually aroused by the
more open methods of murder. I think my ancestors had little to learn in such matters from the Borgias. Of course, it may have been only malicious rumour which suggested that the Emperor was handed infected towels by the eunuchs on the orders of his mother. In any case, he died before he was twenty without an heir, but leaving A-lu-te about to have a baby.

‘Yehonala needed no telling that if A-lu-te bore a son history might repeat itself. Should the child be proclaimed Emperor, A-lu-te would become Empress Mother, and perhaps Regent. A new era would begin. Yehonala's friends would be sent silken cords as an intimation that they could hang themselves, and her own days would be numbered. She had to strike down the young Empress or be struck down herself.'

A-lu-te paused a moment, then continued. ‘The history books will tell you that Tung-chih's widow survived him by only a few days, then died of grief. That was the official statement issued by Yehonala, but it was not the truth. Realising that so much hung on her pregnancy that it had become her death warrant, the young Empress fled from the palace secretly by night and sought sanctuary with my grandparents. They took her to a remote estate that they owned in the province of Sze-chuan. There she was delivered of a boy.

Gregory's quick mind anticipated the sequel, and he murmured, ‘That boy, born in 1875, would have been just forty in 1914. It was he whom your father and the other Mandarin brought here as their Emperor, and it was his grandson who has just died.'

As A-lu-te nodded, he went on: ‘I see now how it was that when they decided to colonise this island they were faced with no problem in selecting an Emperor. Directly your father let his friends know that his parents had brought up Tung-chih's posthumous son in secret, the choice was obvious. No one could possibly dispute his claim as he was the only son of the late Emperor and Empress. But who did Yehonala put on the throne of China?'

‘There were three claimants—the son of Prince Kung, who was the eldest surviving uncle of Tung-chih; the son of Prince Ch'un, another uncle who was known as the Seventh Prince because by birth he came sixth after Tung-chih; and a nephew of Tung-chih's named Pu-lún. Only the last was strictly eligible, because it is traditional that the ancestral rites to a deceased Emperor must be performed by a member of a younger generation. But Yehonala was not the woman to allow a matter of ceremony to stand in the way of her ambitions. In China the law of primogeniture has never been observed, yet in this instance Prince Kung urged it in favour of his son's candidature, and Sakota, who was officially the senior Dowager Empress, supported him. But that would not have suited Yehonala, because the boy was already in his teens and it would have meant a short Regency. She favoured Prince Ch'un's boy because he was still a child, and at a midnight meeting, during which a terrible storm raged, she forced the Council to accept him. He was named Kuang-hsu.

‘So it was that Yehonala's second joint Regency began; but, as in the case of her own son, the little Emperor disliked her and gave his affection to the more gentle-natured Sakota. Other causes for quarrels developed between the Regents, and it may be that Yehonala began to fear that when Kuang-hsu grew up he would combine with her sister to bring about her downfall. It is at least significant that it was after eating some sweet cakes sent to her by Yehonala that Sakota suddenly fell ill and died.'

‘It certainly seems that the Borgias had nothing on this old lady,' Gregory remarked with a grim smile. ‘Anyhow, little A-lu-te showed very good sense in getting out of her clutches while she had the chance.'

A-lu-te nodded. ‘Yes; but you must not think of Yehonala as old then. She was still only about thirty-five, and it was not until many years later that her affectionate subjects gave her the nickname of “The old Buddha”.'

‘Affectionate subjects?'

‘The term implies “The Wise One”, and she was greatly
beloved by her people. You see, she was the champion of the old China. During four thousand years of isolation China had developed a great civilisation. It was not until the last half of the century that the European powers began to force their way into the country. Yehonala was still a young wife when the first clash occurred. Lord Elgin, with British, French, Russian and German troops, captured Pekin and sacked the beautiful Summer Palace. She never forgave them, and from then on for the next forty years, right up to the Boxer risings in 1900, there was constant friction with the “Foreign Devils”. Yehonala fought a losing battle, but she fought it bravely and skilfully to protect what she believed to be the best interests of her people. That is why they loved her.'

‘I take it she became sole Regent after Sakota's death?'

‘Yes; but once again she was unlucky in her choice of a child Emperor. Kuang-hsu was unhealthy in mind and body. As a youth he imbibed many Western ideas without properly understanding them. He detested the ceremonies it was his duty as Emperor to perform, and was morbid, shy and difficult to deal with.

‘In 1889 he was given concubines, and Yehonala selected a niece of hers to be his wife; but he proved impotent so begot no children. On his marriage Yehonala formally gave up the Regency, but she reserved for herself the right to appoint and remove public servants; so the real power of government still remained in her hands. The young Emperor proved hopelessly incompetent. He attempted to introduce all sorts of reforms which threatened to disrupt the whole life of the country. For a few years things went from bad to worse, then Yehonala stepped in again. She arrested Kuang-hsu and his Empress and kept them as prisoners in the Ocean Terrace Pavilion of the Summer Palace. For a time she ruled through him. Then in 1898 she entered on her third official Regency. From then on, as the Great Empress Mother, she continued as supreme ruler to the day of her death.'

‘Where does the young Emperor Pu-yi come in?'

‘In 1908 Yehonala's health began to fail. Her death might
have enabled the morbid and dangerous prisoner of the Ocean Terrace to regain his rights as Emperor, and she would obviously have been most averse to leaving China at his mercy. Perhaps it was coincidence, but he also fell ill, and he died just before her. On the day after his death she appointed little Pu-yi as Emperor and his father as Regent, then she herself died.'

Gregory nodded. ‘What an appalling story. But, unscrupulous as she was, Yehonala seems to have been the only strong character in it. Every one of the three Emperors she chose grew up either dissolute or unfit to govern. And if the Mandarins are determined to observe tradition it is from this decadent family that they must choose a ruler for this island. I don't wonder that they're worried.'

‘Yes. The Imperial Family is now scattered. The only Princes who might be worthy are too old. The others have either become dissipated through living an idle life in exile, or so Westernised that they might prove a menace to the ancient customs which it is the Council's main object to preserve. How they will solve this problem I cannot think.'

Nevertheless, solve it they did, and in a most unexpected manner. Two mornings later A-lu-te came out to Gregory and, her gold-flecked eyes shining with excitement, exclaimed:

‘I can scarcely believe it! Instead of an Emperor we are to have an Empress.'

Gregory smiled at her. ‘I hope they have chosen you. I've seen nothing so far of the other ladies on the island, but I can hardly imagine that any of them are better suited to the job.'

‘No, no!' she shook her head impatiently. ‘It had to be someone of the Imperial blood; and anyway I wouldn't want to be. I'd prefer to remain free so that I can continue my studies.'

‘It is because you are so well-informed that I think you would do well in the part,' he remarked. ‘But come and sit down and tell me all about it.'

Madame Pan-chieh came bustling up behind her young
mistress, and when the two ladies were seated A-lu-te went on with her news.

‘They have chosen a Princess who lives in the United States and was baptised into the Christian church with the name of Josephine.'

‘On the face of it she does not sound very suitable. What place does she occupy in the Imperial Family?'

‘You may recall that when I was giving you its more recent history the other day, I began with the Emperor Tao-kwang, who had nine sons. It was the eldest of them, Hsien-feng, who made Yehonala an Empress. The second son was Prince Kung, and it was his son that Yehonala passed over after her own son died, selecting instead the son of the Seventh Prince as the new Emperor. This Princess is the great-grand-daughter of the boy who was passed over.'

‘Since the eldest branch came to an end a week ago with the death of the Empress A-lu-te's great-grandson, Prince Kung's then became the senior,' Gregory remarked, ‘so at all events the selection of his descendant has legitimacy to recommend it. Do you know how old she is, or anything about her?'

‘She is twenty, an only child, and lives with her widowed mother in San Francisco. It is said that she is very pretty but, poor thing, she is quite dumb.'

‘Dumb-stupid or dumb-no-talker?' Gregory inquired.

A-lu-te frowned at his levity. ‘I mean that she suffers from a terrible affliction. She was born in Saigon and while still an infant caught diphtheria. The tracheotomy was done by a doctor who was not properly qualified. He bungled the operation and injured her vocal cords. As she could still cry and gurgle the damage was not discovered until she was of an age when she should have started to talk, and by then it was too late to do anything about it.'

‘What a frightful thing! It seems extraordinary, though, that any member of the Imperial Family should have failed to secure the best surgeon available to operate on his daughter.'