Gazing at Red Walls and Golden Tiles: Appreciating the Ming-Qing Imperial Palace (Part Two): Gate of Supreme Harmony (Revised Edition)
My 2021 Forbidden City series, the seventeen installments of 'Gazing at Red Walls and Golden Tiles: Appreciating the Ming-Qing Imperial Palace,' received generous reading from many readers. Some readers offered suggestions and pointed out errors. This revised second edition reissued now adopts those suggestions, enriches some content, corrects writing mistakes, and updates and supplements some images. I cannot claim to have corrected all errors, but I believe most have been amended. It details the top-tier ancient Chinese palace architecture seen while appreciating the Ming-Qing imperial palace, some royal relics on display, and traces of Qing palace life, also touching on some stories and legends from the Ming and Qing courts. Not daring to say 'to feast readers,' I merely hope to share with readers. Thank you.
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Last time, we mentioned that the Zhou ritual palace city layout had 'five gates and three courts.' After entering the Meridian Gate, you see the fourth of the five gates, also the first of the three courts: the Gate of Supreme Harmony (Taihemen). In the Zhou system of five gates, it was the Yingmen, the gate of governance.
In front of the Gate of Supreme Harmony is Taihemen Square.
The five bridges in the square cross the Inner Golden Water River, which curves gracefully. They are naturally called the Inner Golden Water Bridges. The central one is the Imperial Bridge, flanked by the Princes' Bridges, and the outermost are the Rank Bridges—their names speak for themselves, no need for elaboration.
The Inner Golden Water River may curve, but not randomly—it is shaped like a bow. The five bridges are like five arrows nocked on that bow, ready to shoot toward the five openings behind the Meridian Gate. Seen this way, it feels quite menacing, doesn’t it? Yet you can also view it as a scene of bridges and flowing water, quite poetic. Red walls, golden tiles, grey cliffs; small bridges, flowing water, imperial style; layered eaves, stone balustrades, blue bricks. Such is the majesty of emperors, exactly as prescribed by Zhou rites.
To the west of the square is the Right Obedience Gate, renamed Xihemen (Gate of Radiance and Harmony) during the Qianlong reign of the Qing and still called that today—'xihe' means harmony and joy. Xihemen is a palace-style gate, five bays wide with three doorway openings, covered by a single-eave hip-and-gable roof of yellow glazed tiles, supported by bracket sets and a post-and-beam structure. It has solid plank doors, with partition windows in the end bays. Destroyed by fire in the 23rd year of Qianlong (1758), it was rebuilt that same year, and what we see now is its appearance after that reconstruction.
Standing at Xihemen and looking at Taihemen Square, it is truly vast, a full 26,000 square meters. In Chinese architecture, such open spaces are called 'courtyards.' Chinese courtyards are usually enclosed, surrounded by buildings or walls. A square can be open, like a city square. The courtyards in the Forbidden City are all enormous, beyond comparison with ordinary dwellings, so I still prefer to call them 'squares.' A commoner's yard is a 'ting,' while an imperial yard is a 'court,' hence the term 'imperial court.'
Opposite Xihemen, on the east side of the square, is the Left Obedience Gate, renamed Xiehemen (Gate of Conciliation and Harmony) during the Shunzhi reign of the Qing and still known as such. 'Xiehe' also means harmony and concord, as in the saying 'The people shine brightly, and all nations are in harmony.' Xiehemen was burned and rebuilt in the Ming Dynasty, the last time during the Tianqi era, so what we see now, though not from the Yongle emperor’s time, is still a Ming product. Its form is the same as Xihemen, but the end bays have solid walls.
Judging from the pictures above, the east side of Xiehemen is accessed not by stairs but by a ramp, and so is the west side. This ramp is not of smooth stone or brick, but of slanted bricks with ridges that help prevent slipping. Such a ramp is called a 'jiangcuo ramp' (a stepped brick ramp). The horse path inside the Meridian Gate is also this kind of ramp. All ancient Chinese city walls have such ramps. Do foreign walls have them? Probably, but I haven't seen them in any foreign castles—perhaps because I haven't studied those cities deeply.
The platforms under both Xihemen and Xiehemen are equally high—I tested with my hand, nearly more than 2 meters. This platform runs along the entire side wall of the square, and atop it are covered corridors. In the Ming Dynasty, court historians responsible for recording the emperor's daily life worked in these rooms, mainly noting the emperor’s activities, known as 'Qijuzhu' (Records of Imperial Daily Life).
Taihemen Square also has corner towers, much simpler than those on the palace walls, yet still very beautiful. They are square pavilions with double-eave hip-and-gable roofs of yellow glazed tiles.
The Gate of Supreme Harmony is truly mighty. Take a look at its gate hall.
The Gate of Supreme Harmony sits on a nine-chi-tall white marble Sumeru base, with moon terraces to the front and rear. At the center of the moon terrace is a three-ramp staircase with handrails; the middle ramp is the imperial path, its central stone carved with auspicious clouds and five dragons. The side ramps were for ministers. Flanking the stairs and along the moon terrace are white marble balustrades. The balustrades of this gate are of the 'monk's staff' type: the top rail resembles a monk's staff; below it are solid upper and lower beams and a central panel. Beneath the staff part, there are openwork sections supported by 'pure vases' bearing cloud patterns, and the baluster heads have relief carvings of cloud dragons. The balustrades of the Gate of Supreme Harmony are relatively simple, without intricate carvings on the panels or posts.
The Gate of Supreme Harmony is a palace-style gate, the largest such gate in the world. Its gate hall is nine bays wide and three bays deep, with covered corridors front and back. It uses a bracket-set and post-and-beam structure, crowned by a double-eave hip-and-gable roof of yellow glazed tiles, with seven ridge beasts. Of the seven central open bays, three serve as doorways, and one bay on each side is closed. The beams are painted with double-dragon 'Hexi' patterns. This is the highest-ranking gate hall in all of China. Like the plaque on the Meridian Gate, the plaque reading 'Gate of Supreme Harmony' originally had both Manchu and Chinese script; when Yuan Shikai attempted to proclaim himself emperor, he removed the Manchu, leaving only the Chinese, written by the late-Qing calligrapher Wang Faliang.
The moon terrace also has stairs with handrails on its east and west sides; these were not even used by ministers, but by palace maids and eunuchs.
Look at the gate leaves—solid plank doors, with eighty-one gilded door nails. Door nails are fittings on solid plank doors. The Forbidden City's plank doors are very thick, with a frame sandwiched between two panels; the nails secure the panels to the frame and prevent loosening. Some folk plank doors have no frame, with the two panels directly soldered together with dowels. The number of nails on a main gate indicates the rank of the residence beyond: imperial palace gates have nine rows of nine nails; a prince's gate, seven rows of nine; a princely mansion's gate, seven rows of seven; and below that, at most five rows of five.
See this decoration on the door leaf—very ornate, called a 'Ruyi cloud-dragon playing with pearl' gilded lead-forged face plate, with gilded door nails on it.
The door knockers are also gilded. The beast on the knocker is not a tiger but the seventh son of the dragon, called Bi'an (pronounced 'bi-an').
The door leaves are mounted on the rear golden pillars, making the front hall very spacious.
On the ground before the Gate of Supreme Harmony stand several bronze incense burners and other vessels, but the most famous are the two bronze lions in front. There are six pairs of bronze lions in the Forbidden City, and this pair before Taihemen is the largest, the only ungilded pair, and the only pair with erect ears. These bronze lions are full-spec: from bottom to top, there's a white marble Sumeru base, a bronze pedestal, and then the lion itself. The Sumeru base, pedestal, and embroidered cloth all feature exquisite carvings. The lions themselves are finely crafted. This pair is completely different from the other five and very likely dates from the Ming Dynasty. China has no native lions; ancient people saw them in the Western Regions and said, 'Suanni, the lion, also eats tigers and leopards.' Legend says Suanni (pronounced 'suan-ni') is the fifth son of the dragon, dislikes exercise, enjoys smoking, and often sits on incense burners. During the Eastern Han Dynasty, envoys from the west brought lions as tribute, reportedly on four occasions. Gate lions serve as door guardians, protecting the household. They always come in pairs, male and female, with the male on the left and female on the right. Facing south, the left (east) is the superior position. Whatever folk explanations say, the imperial gate lions should be understood this way: the male lion holding a brocade ball symbolizes holding the state; the female lion caressing a cub symbolizes thriving descendants.
Besides bronze objects, there are other items in front of the Gate of Supreme Harmony. To the right of the bronze lion stands a square stone. This is a white marble casket called a 'shikui' (stone coffer). Below it is a white marble base with cloud patterns; the casket has a lid topped by a coiled-dragon knob. Beside the left lion is a stone pavilion. It rests on a two-tier base with front steps, upon which sits a Sumeru pedestal or 'dhvaja,' and atop that a white marble square pavilion imitating a wooden structure, with a single-eave hip roof, somewhat damaged.
Since Han times, China has had records of the 'bao-ce' (treasure and patents) system. 'Ce' refers to the patent of appointment, and 'bao' to the emperor's seal. For ceremonies of conferring honorific titles or investiture, they first prepared an edict (the 'ce') and the imperial seal (the 'bao'). During the ceremony, the seal was stamped on the patent, called 'qianyin'; without a seal, the patent was invalid. The white marble casket and square pavilion before the Gate of Supreme Harmony are called the 'baokui' (treasure coffer) and 'ce' pavilion; they are original Ming objects, likely set up by the Yongle Emperor. In the Ming Dynasty, many ceremonies were held at Taihemen, including imperial court audiences ('yumen tingzheng') and various investiture rites. The bao-ce system was part of the emperor's supreme authority, and placing the treasure coffer and patent pavilion here symbolized Ming imperial power. According to ancient protocol, during ceremonies the patent (ce) was placed on the east and the seal (bao) on the west, exactly as seen here. The Yuan Dynasty palace also had such coffer and pavilion, but reportedly the positions were reversed, showing that the Mongols hadn't fully grasped Chinese rites. The coffer and pavilion remained here from Ming through Qing; the patent pavilion was even renovated in the Qing. Although the Manchus eagerly studied Han culture, they did not really understand the bao-ce system. The Jiaqing Emperor once asked his ministers, 'What are these?' They answered, 'Mere decorations.' In the Qing, investiture ceremonies were no longer held at Taihemen, and court audiences moved to Qianqingmen, so Taihemen lost its function as an audience gate and became a mere ornament.
In the Yongle Emperor's palace, Taihemen was called Fengtian Gate (Gate of Respecting Heaven). One hundred and forty years later, in the 41st year of the Jiajing reign (1562) under Emperor Shizong (Zhu Houcong), it was renamed Huangji Gate (Gate of Imperial Supremacy). What happened that year to prompt the name change? In the 36th year of Jiajing, a great fire in the Forbidden City destroyed Fengtian Gate and the Front Three Halls; they were not rebuilt until the 40th year. That year, Qi Jiguang led his troops against Japanese pirates, winning nine battles in a row—the great 'Taizhou Victory' that quelled the pirate scourge in Zhejiang, delighting the emperor. But amid his joy lurked worry about Grand Secretary Yan Song, the chief minister. Yan Song not only placed his relatives in official positions but, when the emperor refused, bluntly said, 'This is my relative; let him succeed me so I can die in peace.' Wasn't that blatantly coercing the throne? Jiajing felt awkward then and agreed, making the relative an official. Afterwards, the emperor felt more and more vexed; within months, he summoned that relative and ordered him to 'zhishi'—resign. The relative took the imperial edict to Yan Song, and that old fox actually didn't understand what it meant! So the next year, Jiajing secretly ordered senior minister Xu Jie to find a Taoist monk in the jianghu to perform spirit writing ('fuji') in the palace. One day, he summoned Yan Song while the monk staged a spirit-writing show. When Yan Song arrived at the hall, the emperor told him to read the spirit message, which said, 'Today, a treacherous minister is reporting.' Pretending surprise, Jiajing shouted, 'Guards! Seize this scoundrel Yan Song!' After dealing with Yan Song, Jiajing decided to strictly enforce laws and forbid any contempt of imperial authority. He renamed the newly rebuilt Fengtian Gate as Huangji Gate, and the Hall of Respecting Heaven became Huangji Hall, telling all officials: I, the emperor, am supreme; you'd better behave. The capture of Yan Song is folk lore; historically, Yan Song was forced into retirement in the 40th year of Jiajing, and his son, Minister of Works Yan Shifan, was convicted and beheaded in the 43rd year.
Fengtian Gate was the audience gate of the palace, the Yingmen, called the Court Gate. According to Zhu Yuanzhang's 'Ancestral Instructions,' on days ending with 3, 6, or 9, at the fifth night watch drum, all civil and military officials in the capital would assemble outside the Meridian Gate, line up, and be counted. When the change-of-watch bell rang, the Meridian Gate opened—that was five in the morning. The officials had to enter in two columns, heads bowed and silent, proceeding to the base of the Fengtian Gate platform and standing with hands at their sides on either side. Coughing, spitting, or blowing noses was forbidden; anyone making strange noises would be reported by the censors and recorded, stored in the Imperial Archives. The emperor also set out at five from the Qianqing Palace at the rear, but because of the distance, he arrived after the officials. As the emperor approached, a ceremonial whip master cracked three whip-cracks. The emperor would sit on a prearranged chair—this critical process was called 'ascending the imperial throne.' The officials would then uniformly perform one bow and three kowtows; on the final kowtow, the emperor would timely shout, 'My ministers, you have worked hard,' or 'Rise, my ministers,' to show solicitude. The ceremony was presided over by officials from the Honglu Temple (Court of State Ceremonies), one of the nine courts like the Court of Judicial Review, experts in protocol. After the rites, the Honglu official would step forward and read commendations; recipients would exit the Meridian Gate, turn around, and express gratitude toward the gate. Then, when the Honglu official announced 'Start reporting,' heads of various offices would present affairs in sequence. The emperor might approve, reject, instruct, or scold. Once all reports were done, the whip master again cracked three times, the emperor returned to his palace, and the officials turned to go home, perhaps buying two fried dough sticks and a bowl of soy milk on the way. This was the morning court, recorded daily by the censors and kept in the Imperial Archives. Zhu Yuanzhang held such morning courts in Nanjing, and the Yongle Emperor followed ancestral instructions after moving the capital to Beijing, without interruption. China has had historical recorders since the Xia Dynasty, but no records from them survive. Oracle bone inscriptions mention 'zuoce' and 'shi,' indicating that written records began in the Shang Dynasty. The morning court at Fengtian Gate was the so-called 'yumen tingzheng' (court hearing at the gate); the Ming Dynasty always held it there. Early Qing also held audience at this gate, now renamed Taihemen, until the Kangxi Emperor moved morning courts to the Qianqing Gate. The last imperial morning court in Chinese history took place on the 25th day of the twelfth month, third year of Xuantong (February 12, 1912), in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, when Empress Dowager Longyu issued the abdication edict of the Qing emperor.
If the emperor caught a cold or the previous night's stars were inauspicious, he might cancel morning court the next day. He would inform the officials, but there was no fixed time for the notice. If planned ahead, he would notify them in advance so they needn't assemble early at the Meridian Gate. Often, it was only when the officials had already arrived at Fengtian Gate that the Honglu Temple announced 'No court today,' and they could immediately about-face and go home early. During the Zhengde era, Emperor Wuzong (Zhu Houzhao) was negligent of state affairs and indulged in the pleasures of the Leopard Quarter. Once, after a night of heavy drinking, he remained drunk the next morning. The officials stood waiting at Fengtian Gate for the audience, but Wuzong never came. Not until late afternoon, as the sun was about to set, did the emperor wake and cancel court. The officials, who had been standing all day hungry, scattered in a rush, turning and running toward the Meridian Gate. A crush ensued in the gate tunnel. One old general, sore and numb from standing, suddenly collapsed in the tunnel. Colleagues surging behind, eager to get home for a hot meal, each trampled him, and the general was literally stomped to death. You see, the lethality of stampedes in ancient times was no less than that on the Bund in Shanghai, right?
After the Shunzhi Emperor entered this palace, Huangji Gate was renamed Taihemen (Gate of Supreme Harmony). 'Taihe' can also be written as 'Dahe,' from the I Ching: 'Preserve the great harmony, which is beneficial and correct,' meaning harmonious and upright.
Flanking the Gate of Supreme Harmony are two side gates. The one on the right (west) is called Zhendumen (Gate of Correct Conduct)—'zhen' means rectitude, 'du' means law, so 'zhendu' signifies upright behavior. Zhendumen was originally the Xuanzhi Gate under the Yongle Emperor. Being a gate in front of the right-side hall, it is also called the Front Right Gate. Zhendumen is five bays wide and two bays deep, with a single-eave hip-and-gable roof of yellow glazed tiles, a door in the central bay. Its roof uses bracket sets and post-and-beam construction, with beams painted in double-dragon 'Hexi' patterns. The solid plank door leaves are set on the middle pillars, so the front and rear gateways are equally deep.
The left side gate is Zhaodemen (Gate of Manifest Virtue), identical in form to Zhendumen.
The Gate of Supreme Harmony was for the emperor and empress; ministers going to court used the side gates, Zhendumen on the right and Zhaodemen on the left. In the Qing, the corridor rooms near Zhendumen served as imperial storehouses, guarded day and night. There is a tragic story of the Guangxu Emperor. In the 14th year of his reign (1888), when he turned eighteen, Empress Dowager Cixi arranged a marriage for him. It was indeed Cixi's choice: her own niece, Guangxu's cousin, named Yehenara Jingfen, who later became Empress Longyu. The auspicious date chosen by the almanac was the first month of Guangxu's 15th year, so preparations began in the tenth month of the 14th year. Silks, satins, gold and silver jewelry, chests, bed frames, rice jars, and even the bridal chamber pot were stored in the Zhendumen storehouses. On a windy, moonless night in the twelfth month of that year, the old guard dozed off by the fire. A night lamp flickered in the howling north wind, oil spilled, and ignited Zhendumen. Fanned by wind and fire, Zhendumen, Taihemen, and Zhaodemen were all destroyed, and the wedding goods were reduced to ashes. With barely over a month until the grand wedding, and the bride expected to enter through Taihemen, building a new gate was impossible, and they couldn't let Jingfen walk on cinders. So the Grand Council secretly proposed a plan, approved by the throne: they built a fake Taihemen on its platform using cardboard and hemp cloth. On the wedding day, Jingfen's palanquin was covered in red silk; she couldn't see outside, and who knows if she smelled the charcoal-like scent of the fire. The ceremony ultimately went smoothly, but from that fire on, Guangxu could never escape Cixi's shadow. Reconstruction of the three gates began in the sixth month of the 15th year and was completed in the 20th year of Guangxu. The Taihemen, Zhendumen, and Zhaodemen we see today are the results of that reconstruction, now over a century old.
The fire at Zhendumen in the 14th year of Guangxu should never have happened, for fire-fighting water vats had been placed here since Ming times. In the picture above, you can see two iron vats on either side of the ramp south of Zhendumen, popularly called 'door seas,' meaning seas in front of the gate. Take a closer look: clearly engraved on them is 'Made in the 4th year of the Ming Hongzhi reign.' Hongzhi was the era name of Ming Xiaozong Zhu Youcheng, so 1491 AD—these vats are 530 years old. Despite centuries of weathering, though rusty, the characters are still distinct, testifying to the superb iron-casting technology of the time. Yet even with these two water-filled vats right in front of Zhendumen, they could not save the gate from that great fire.
Taihemen Square at sunset. The setting sun glows bright, light gradually fades, and a thousand years of imperial shadows grow dim. Even the bronze lion sighs at the dusk. The sun sinks beyond the west wall, too beautiful to hold; no call from the mighty lion brings it back. The noble remnant grieve in vain, for heaven and earth have turned to brocade.
Golden light falls on the white platform. Blue sky washed clean, white jade warm; golden light like water, green shadows cold. Golden light falls on the Gate of Supreme Harmony. Bronze lions, golden halls, red walls; stone steps, yellow tiles, painted beams; blue bricks, cinnabar terraces, cloud dragons. Twilight deepens, visitors depart; Ming emperors, Qing rulers, their shadows have no companions.
Looking from Taihemen toward the Meridian Gate. The Zhu family's Five Phoenix Tower still stands, the Qing banners and flags have lost their soul. Once the imperial palace, the Forbidden City, now common folk gaze at twilight.
Viewing Taihemen from the Inner Golden Water Bridge. Curving golden water, glittering white jade bridges. Looking afar at the golden hall, at dusk gathering tourists.
As the sun is about to set, visitors enthusiastically snap photos in the last light. Qing princess impersonators raise their phones; burly men in black wield their lenses. All under heaven chase beauty, unafraid of dust-filled breezes, capturing the dusk.
The Forbidden City is about to close for the day; announcements urge visitors to leave. Security guards converge on the last visitor, still kneeling to take a photo. The palace gates will soon close, we will rest—so are you leaving or not? One can never be too careful. Still, one photographer slips through, capturing that lion one last time. A tower, a lion, a little figure—a photo fanatic.
Wait for tomorrow, wait for tomorrow to stroll the palace again, with vigorous spirit. (To be continued)
