Admiring Red Walls and Golden Tiles: The Ming-Qing Imperial Palace – 8: Eastern Six Palaces (Part 1, revised edition)

My 2021 Forbidden City series, the 17-part serial 'Viewing Red Walls and Golden Tiles: Appreciating Ming and Qing Imperial Palaces,' has been generously read by quite a few people. Some readers offered suggestions and pointed out a number of errors. For this revised edition, I’ve taken those earlier comments on board, added more content, corrected slips of the pen, and updated and supplemented some of the pictures. I wouldn’t dare claim that every last mistake has been fixed, but most of them should be. It records in detail the top-level architectural art of imperial China seen in the Ming and Qing palace, the imperial relics exhibited at the Forbidden City and the traces of Qing court life, and it also touches on some of the stories and legends that played out inside those crimson walls. I can’t say it's 'to feast the readers'; I simply hope to share what I’ve seen with you. Thank you.

——————————————————————————————

When Zhu Yuanzhang built the Ming imperial palace in Nanjing, he had the Qianqing Palace built for his own sleeping quarters, and behind it the Kunning Palace for the empress. So where did the three thousand palace beauties live? He then built the Eastern and Western Six Palaces. But the Eastern and Western Six Palaces together only add up to twelve courtyards — how could they possibly contain those three thousand ripples? Let’s first settle the consorts in. After all, even with three thousand graces, the emperor only draws one ladle’s worth each night.

When Zhu Di completed the rear palace in Beijing in the 18th year of the Yongle reign, this layout was basically copied and pasted from the Nanjing Ming palace: the central axis with the rear three palaces plus the two wings to the east and west — three routes in total. The overall width of these three routes is only a little wider than the grand courtyard of the front three halls. So, when you hear about the rear palace, it still sounds rather cramped, doesn’t it?

In the Ming dynasty, the twelve courtyards of the Eastern and Western Six Palaces were all the same size, and their layout was identical — hold on, exceptions: Jingyang Palace in the northeast corner of the Eastern Six Palaces and Xianfu Palace in the northwest corner of the Western Six Palaces. Long axial lanes run north-south through the Eastern and Western Six Palaces, and horizontal alleys link them east-west. Is there a difference between a lane and an alley? Certainly. A lane is broad, so we usually say 'great lane'; an alley is narrow, so 'small alley'. Lanes have lane gates, alleys have alley gates — this follows the li-fang (ward) layout of Chinese cities. This Ming palace arrangement also continued the 'six palaces and six bedchambers' system that started as early as the Western Zhou, and it has a strong whiff of the 'well-field system' and 'nine-square grid.' In the Ming, it was only during the Jiajing reign that any changes were made to the rear palace, and those were merely renamings of the various palaces — nothing major.

Come the Qing, the Shunzhi Emperor had the three eastern and three western palaces closest to the rear three palaces extensively renovated and moved his consorts in. Kangxi had more than six consorts, so he had the remaining three palaces further east and three further west thoroughly done up too. At the dynasty’s peak, with considerable national strength, many consorts in the rear palace enjoyed their blessings every day. By the late Qing, after the Xianfeng Emperor, national power was waning, and even the imperial household was gradually running short of surplus grain; it could no longer support so many consorts. A direct consequence of the reduced number of palace ladies was that palace buildings became increasingly empty. As the rooms couldn’t be rented out, some unoccupied courtyards were converted to other uses. One way was to join the front and rear courtyards so the occupant could live in a larger residence; another was to tear down the old and build anew — which not only drastically changed the architectural layout but even made the style no longer Chinese. More on that later.

Are the Eastern and Western Six Palaces ranked? Yes — wherever there are people, there are ranks. The east is superior, the west inferior. So let me start with the Eastern Six Palaces and take a closer look at their finer details.

The visitor entrance to the Eastern Six Palaces is the Neizuo Gate (Inner Left Gate) to the east of the Gate of Heavenly Purity.

As the name suggests, the Neizuo Gate is the left gate of the inner residence — the name has no great cultural depth. It’s a glazed tile 'wall-following' gate with solid double doors; the door posts have upper and lower corner inserts rather than one in each of the four corners. The plaque is in bilingual Manchu and Chinese: 'Neizuo Gate'. In the Ming dynasty, the plaques in the inner residence were certainly all in Chinese — no problem there. When the Manchus arrived, the earliest plaques were trilingual: Manchu, Mongolian and Chinese, because the Shunzhi Emperor had several Mongolian consorts, and even his mother, Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang, was of Mongol descent. As we know, the early Manchus had no unified script; Nurhaci had an old Manchu script created by adapting the Mongol script. Later, Hong Taiji carried out script reform, turning it into new Manchu script. Consequently, those Mongols could all read Manchu. Since the Mongols already knew Manchu, in the 13th year of the Shunzhi reign (AD 1656), most of the plaques in the palace were changed to bilingual Manchu and Chinese. In 1915, Yuan Shikai had the Manchu script removed from the plaques in the outer court; at that time, Puyi, under the 'Articles of Favourable Treatment of the Qing House,' was still living in the inner court, so the inner court plaques were left untouched, preserving the bilingual Manchu and Chinese. In recent years, the Palace Museum took the rear palace gate plaques away for restoration, and they now look gleamingly new. Most of these Manchu inscriptions are phonetic transcriptions of the Chinese, with only a few being semantic translations. But anyway, whether phonetic or semantic, I can’t read Manchu, so let it be.

Entering the Neizuo Gate, you step into the Dongyi Changjie (Eastern First Long Lane). From here, walk straight north to the very end and you will reach the Changkangzuo Gate.

Along the lane, you occasionally see ghostly reflections playing on the palace walls.

Leaving the Changkangzuo Gate and heading west, you reach the Qiongyuan East Gate of the Imperial Garden. The rear three palaces lie to the west of Dongyi Changjie. Not far inside Neizuo Gate there is another gate: the Jinguangzuo Gate. Its plaque has been taken away for maintenance, and in front of the gate there is an apologetic notice from the Palace Museum.

The area outside the Jinguangzuo Gate belongs to the inner court, but lies beyond the consorts’ Eastern Six Palaces; the Eastern Six Palaces are inside this gate. To the east outside the Jinguangzuo Gate there is a gate called Renxiang Gate. The people housed inside Renxiang Gate were not rear-palace consorts. In the early Ming under Zhu Di, this was part of the Fengxian Hall (Hall for Ancestral Worship).

Enter Renxiang Gate to the east and you come to a small square. Behind the gate there is a small duty room, and a lacebark pine has been planted in front of it.

To the north of the little square stands the Zhaigong (Hall of Abstinence). In Ming times this was part of the Fengci Hall, and later the Shenxiao Hall. Take a look at its glazed gate. Because the emperor came here, the gate is quite formal, with box and corner inserts on the door posts.

In the early Ming, the spirit tablets of ancestors were worshipped in the Fengxian Hall inside the palace and in the Imperial Ancestral Temple outside, with only one emperor and one empress per reign — that is, the late emperor and his principal empress. Come the Chenghua Emperor Zhu Jianshen, his birth mother was Consort Zhou; according to the rules, she could not enter the ancestral temple. Zhu Jianshen’s son Zhu Youtang (pronounced 'Yòu-táng') was also born of a concubine. After Zhu Youtang came to the throne, he had to perform sacrifices to his mother, Consort Shu née Ji, so in the first year of the Hongzhi reign (AD 1487) he built the Fengci Hall to the right of Fengxian Hall to worship Consort Ji’s tablet. When Zhu Youtang’s grandmother, Consort Zhou, passed away, her tablet, too, was worshipped in Fengci Hall. The Jiajing Emperor Zhu Houcong’s mother was the principal wife, so in the 15th year of Jiajing (AD 1536) he abandoned the Fengci Hall. It was later changed to the Shenxiao Hall, and in the early Qing it was abandoned.

By custom, Ming and Qing emperors had to fast for three days before offering sacrifices to Heaven and Earth, and both the Temple of Heaven and the Temple of Earth had their own halls of abstinence for this purpose. When the Yongzheng Emperor ascended the throne, he offended many people and made scores of enemies. He often heard that someone wanted to take his life or a piece of his body; legend has it that the body inside his tomb coffin was missing that very piece. Therefore, starting from the ninth year of Yongzheng (AD 1731), for safety’s sake, he began fasting inside the palace, so this place was converted into the Zhaigong.

During the pandemic the Zhaigong was closed. After things eased up, one day I walked to the doorway of Renxiang Gate, and a young man was standing right in the crack of the door. I asked him what he was doing there. He said they were preparing an exhibition and it would open soon. A few days later I returned to find that the Palace Museum and China Post had jointly put on an exhibition inside the Zhaigong: a special exhibition of postage stamps on Forbidden City themes. I’m a complete layman when it comes to stamp collecting, but that didn’t stop me from going in to see the Zhaigong. So in I went.

Going in through a side entrance, I saw that the buildings inside had not been renovated for a long time and looked rather shabby. To block the glare, a screen door — a sort of spirit screen — stands just inside the gate.

Standing behind the screen door, I could see the main hall of the Zhaigong.

This main hall is called Zhaigong. It is five bays wide and two bays deep, constructed with dougong brackets and raised beam structure, with a single-eave hip-and-gable roof of yellow glazed tiles and a front veranda. The central bay and the secondary bays on either side have doors, while the outermost bays have windows set above a low sill wall. In front is a three-bay open portico with a 'roll-shed' gable roof of yellow glazed tiles. Beneath the main hall is a two-foot-high grey-brick platform with a white marble terrace. The terrace has stone steps on the front and sides, with a central imperial ramp featuring a carved stone slab of two dragons sporting amid clouds.

On either side of the imperial ramp stands a bronze water vat. Flanking the vats, on open-air display plinths, are bronze tripod censers for burning incense. If the incense fire burns too fiercely, one can scoop water from the vats to put it out.

Stand now in the broad open porch in front of the hall and take a look.

The painted decoration on the beams has weathered badly, though you can still make out the pattern of paired dragons in hexi style. The plaque was inscribed by the Yongzheng Emperor; this suspended plaque is un-gilt, very plain.

Now look at the doors of the secondary bays.

These are called partition doors — four leaves in total, with six crosspieces. The stiles are fitted with pressed lead sheet-metal plates; those stamped with cloud-and-dragon patterns are called 'lead-dragon plates', ordinary ones simply 'face plates'. The panels are gilded ruyi-shaped, and the lattice is in 'step-by-step brocade' pattern. Look up under the eaves of the portico.

Between the two tiers of horizontal architraves there are openwork wooden boards — called huabans, typically used between the double architraves of open-air pavilions, just as I’ve seen in the Imperial Garden. The painted decoration on these wooden elements has almost completely flaked off, and you can see iron straps fastened between the horizontal beams and the pillars for reinforcement. Such reinforcing hooks are everywhere — temporary measures, indicating that some timber parts show signs of rot and deterioration.

The glazed tiles on the roof look in decent condition; I wonder when the last overhaul was? The tiles on the corner veranda, however, are certainly no spring chickens.

There are side halls on either side of the main hall. Let’s look at the west side hall.

Three bays wide, dougong raised-beam structure, yellow-glazed single-eave overhanging-gable roof, with a front veranda. The stone steps in front of the veranda are new.

Behind the main hall is another courtyard, not open to the public. I went to the entrance and took a peek. The rear courtyard appears to have a covered ambulatory all around, and the stone steps at the doorway are also newly done.

Let’s go inside the main hall.

The central bay and the two secondary bays are opened up into a main hall, where the emperor’s throne originally stood. The end bays are partitioned into warm chambers. The west warm chamber became a Buddhist shrine, and the east warm chamber was a study; during his fast, the emperor could work here. Have a look at the pílú hat above the door of the end bay, carved from yellow palisander.

Now the ceiling.

It features a gilded coffered ceiling with coiling dragons, and a 'douba' caisson with fully-gilded coiling dragons — a kind of octagonal vaulted ceiling. Behind the main hall, a connecting passage leads straight into the rear hall; originally, the building was an I-shaped structure with a front and rear hall.

Look at the rear hall. It was first called Fuyong Hall (pronounced 'fú-yòng'), later renamed Chengsu Hall to avoid the personal name of the Jiaqing Emperor.

This is the bedchamber: seven bays wide, one bay deep. The rear hall ceiling has coffered panels decorated with roundels of cranes.

The special stamp exhibition in the Zhaigong featured stamps related to the Forbidden City issued by China Post, displayed alongside the actual artifacts that appeared on them, courtesy of the Palace Museum.

The 2012 'Hetian Jade' stamp set included a stamp of the Eastern Han 'jade bi disc with grain pattern and inscriptions of longevity.' The grain pattern is those little dots on the face of the disc, carved by reducing the ground.

Here’s something even older: a Warring States period 'white jade bi disc with openwork dragon and phoenix,' featured on a 2015 special 'Palace Museum' stamp.

The 2004 'Chicken-Blood Stone Seals' stamps: one is the Qianlong Emperor’s 'Qianlong chenhan' seal, the other his son the Jiaqing Emperor’s 'weiji weikang' seal.

Take a look at the 'Qianlong chenhan' seal.

This seal in the stamp set was impressed on imperial paintings and calligraphy; I’ve also seen it on plaques. Originally, it was a piece of Changhua chicken-blood stone, artist unknown. Carved on it are flowers on a cliff face, with two small poems by the carver on the rock face — quite artistic. After it entered the palace, in the 24th year of the Qianlong reign (AD 1759), it was made into this seal. It is said that Qianlong had over twenty 'Qianlong chenhan' imperial seals; the Palace Museum still holds nine, including one in tianhuang stone. In 2017, a Shoushan frozen-stone 'Qianlong chenhan' seal was auctioned in France and snapped up for €1.22 million by a certain individual. Back then, China Post obtained a photograph of this chicken-blood stone 'Qianlong chenhan' seal from the Palace Museum and printed the stamp from the photo. This chicken-blood stone 'Qianlong chenhan' imperial seal was Qianlong’s favorite. It was exhibited to the public for the first time on this occasion; it wasn’t even brought out for last year’s 600th-anniversary exhibition of the Forbidden City — making it the rarest exhibit in this special show. We often see this seal impressed on imperial paintings and calligraphy; this exhibition let us see the actual imperial seal.

Taiwan once issued two 'cloisonné enamel heavenly cockerel zun' stamps, both Qing Qianlong pieces kept at the Taipei Palace Museum. This special exhibition featured a 'Qianlong-mark cloisonné heavenly cockerel zun' from the Palace Museum, one of the six stamps in China Post’s 2013 'Jingtai Blue' special stamp series.

In 2003, China Post issued a set of 'Eastern Zhou Bronzes' special stamps. Take a look at the 'bronze square basin with turtle and fish patterns' in that set.

Then there are stamps of calligraphy and painting. Here are the stamps of Han Huang’s 'Five Oxen.'

A close-up of the reproduction of Han Huang’s 'Five Oxen.'

Wang Xizhi’s 'Preface to the Orchid Pavilion Collection' has also appeared on a stamp: the 2010 'Ancient Chinese Calligraphy — Running Script.' Here is the reproduction of Feng Chengsu’s copy.

Wang Xizhi’s 'Preface to the Orchid Pavilion Collection' was lost long ago. The Tang copy by Feng Chengsu is reputedly the best facsimile. This copy is covered with connoisseurs’ seals and colophons and has a clear provenance, though some scholars argue this version may not actually be by Feng Chengsu.

The exhibition was fascinating: on one side, special stamps of ancient cultural relics; alongside them, the very relics depicted on the stamps — a perfect match. There was also a display by the stamp company showing the stamp production process, including templates and design drawings at various stages. After viewing the exhibition, I left the Zhaigong. At the eastern edge of the little square in front of it, a dust-grey hoarding had been erected.

Behind the hoarding is a closed palace gate: the Yangyao Gate.

Inside the Yangyao Gate is the Yuqinggong, which was another part of the Ming Fengci Hall. This Yangyao Gate is not the main entrance to the Yuqinggong; its proper entrance, which should face south, is on the north wall of the square outside the Jingyun Gate and is called the Qianxing Gate.

In the 14th year of the Kangxi reign (AD 1675), the emperor named his eldest son Yinreng as crown prince and had this place built into a princely residence for him, called the Yuqinggong. After Yinreng was deposed, it was no longer called the Crown Prince’s Palace, but ordinary imperial princes also lived here. Once a prince married, the emperor would give him a residence outside the palace. Back then, Yinzhen moved out to the Yonghe Prince’s Mansion near the distant city wall — today’s Yonghe Lamasery. After Yongzheng came to power, he did not appoint a crown prince, so princes lived in the Yuqinggong. The Qianlong Emperor himself once lived here before ascending the throne, and later the Jiaqing Emperor as a child also stayed here. The Yuqinggong is a purely Qing building, yet it was built in the style of the Ming palace; it underwent alterations and extensions during Qianlong’s reign. When Jiaqing first ascended the throne, he did not live in the Hall of Mental Cultivation but continued staying here, moving there only after Qianlong passed away. Afterwards, Jiaqing forbade princes from living here, turning the Yuqinggong into a memorial hall for his own princely abode, and ordered the Lei Family (the ‘Style Lei’ architectural clan) to remodel it yet again. In the late Qing, the Yuqinggong served as a place for princes to study; Emperors Tongzhi, Guangxu and Xuantong all studied here.

Opposite the Renxiang Gate, on a towering palace wall, stands a roofed gate: the Rijing Gate we earlier glimpsed from the east corridor of the Qianqing Palace square.

The Rijing Gate is the main doorway from the Qianqing Palace to the Eastern Six Palaces. Following the east corridor, the emperor could walk directly here and then proceed to some spot in the Eastern Six Palaces for amusement; consorts inside the Eastern Six Palaces could likewise pass through here to go to the Qianqing Palace and ‘attend upon His Majesty’. ‘His Majesty’ means the emperor; ‘attend’ here doesn’t mean control or defend, but to serve.

How did the emperor choose which consort would attend him that night? The Qing has a few records. It’s said that at the emperor’s evening meal, all the consorts would gather in the courtyard outside the Yanxi Hall — the west side room of the rear hall of the Hall of Mental Cultivation — to await his selection. After the emperor had eaten and drunk his fill, a eunuch would bring a tray of green-headed name plaques to him. The emperor would pick one name from the tray, then try to recall that person’s appearance. If he remembered, he would look up at the women in the courtyard. Once he’d made up his mind and chosen, he would turn that green-headed plaque over, and that would be the choice. Don’t imagine the emperor revelled every night: indeed quite a few consorts faced lone lamps night after night. If the emperor couldn’t picture the consort’s face and couldn’t match the name to a face among the women in the yard, that consort would certainly spend the night keeping solitary watch over the waning moon by her lamp. After the emperor had made his choice, those not chosen would scatter with lowered heads. The chosen consort would remain in the Yanxi Hall to rest; that night, after the emperor had climbed into the kang, she would bathe in fragrant water in the Yanxi Hall and then be wrapped by eunuchs like a scallion rolled in a pancake inside a large quilt. The eunuch would carry this giant scallion pancake roll into the rear hall of the Hall of Mental Cultivation onto the imperial kang, then wait outside the window and, at the appointed time, pretend to cough to remind the emperor to take a break. You see, the emperor turned the business of loving between man and woman into such a mechanical process — where on earth was the romance? The whole thing was nothing short of a human-making engineering project.

Continue along Dongyi Changjie past the Jinguangzuo Gate and you enter the area of the Eastern Six Palaces. The first horizontal alley to the east of Dongyi Changjie also has a gate, called the Xianhezuo Gate. Turn and follow the east-west alley eastwards; the first courtyard is Jingren Palace, and its main gate is the Jingren Gate.

This too is a glazed 'wall-following' gate, topped with a glazed imitation-wood hip-and-gable roof. Look at the wall pillars flanking it: there is no central box, but each of the four corners has an angled corner piece. These inner-court gates differ slightly from street gates like Neizuo Gate, showing a subtle variation.

The white marble screen wall inlaid with patterned marble at the entrance is said to be a remnant of the Yuan imperial palace. The veining on the marble is very attractive, so Zhu Di kept it and had it moved into his own palace. Pay attention to the four corners of the base of the screen wall: each corner has a carved stone crouching dragon. This crouching dragon is quite unlike the dragons we usually picture — it has long flowing hair. Remember this crouching dragon’s look; for now, treat it as a Yuan dynasty dragon style.

Only by stepping around the marble screen wall can you take in what lies within the courtyard.

The third son of the Shunzhi Emperor, Xuanye, was born right here in Jingren Palace in the 11th year of Shunzhi (AD 1654) — the future Kangxi Emperor. Since Jingren Palace was the birthplace of Kangxi, then this counts as a dragon palace, doesn’t it? Let’s look at the architecture of this dragon palace. The compound has two courtyards. The main hall in the front courtyard is the living quarters, Jingren Palace itself.

Jingren Palace is five bays wide; the central bay is a passage hall, with four four-panel partition doors featuring double-intersecting-four-diamond lattice and ruyi panels. The side and end bays have grey-brick sill walls below and partition windows above. The roof has dougong brackets and raised-beam structure, yellow glazed tiles, a single-eave hip-and-gable roof, and five ridge beasts. The horizontal architraves bear 'dragon-and-phoenix hexi' painted decoration. In front of the main hall is a two-foot-high terrace with stone steps on three sides; the central steps have a carved stone ramp. Around the ramp stone, there is a recently added white marble balustrade.

To the east and west of the main hall are side halls, three bays wide, with yellow-glazed single-eave flush-gable roofs and one-foot-high platforms. To the north of the side halls are small side wings.

In the second courtyard, the main hall is the bedroom, also flanked by side halls.

The rear hall is also five bays wide, but it has a yellow-glazed single-eave flush-gable roof and a two-foot-high platform.

Neither the front three halls nor the rear three palaces have trees. Some say it’s for fire prevention, theft prevention, and to guard against assassins. Others claim it’s fengshui: the front three halls and rear three palaces sit on the 'earth' position of the palace, and wood overcomes earth. Still others argue that planting trees within the palace walls would create the image of 'wood inside a mouth,' which is the character for 'distress' — inauspicious. But the Imperial Garden has trees, lots of trees, and the rear palaces also have trees. Jingren Palace has trees, and a very beautiful octagonal glazed tree pool on a sumeru pedestal.

Jingren Palace is a classic two-courtyard siheyuan. Let’s count its rooms. The front courtyard has ten bays in the main building, three bays in each side wing, and four bays in each of the side wings’ appendices — that makes twenty-four. The rear courtyard has five bays in the main building, three bays in each side wing, and two bays in each appendix — fifteen in total. Front and rear together make thirty-nine rooms. Impressive, eh? Far more awesome than folk dwellings of eight or eighteen rooms, right?

Inside Jingren Palace, the rooms have not been restored to Qing-era imperial furnishings; instead, it has been turned into an exhibition hall. Drawing on the meaning of 'looking up to benevolence,' when I came here it housed an exhibition of donated cultural relics received by the Palace Museum — serving as a permanent memorial hall for donated relics. The earliest was a 2005 exhibition of relics donated by Mr. Ma Heng, who was director of the Palace Museum at the founding of New China. The Palace Museum set up a 'Jingren Roll of Honour' here for those donors.

Take a look at Huang Tingjian’s 'Scroll of Seated with All,' donated by Mr. Zhang Boju — wild cursive script.

Jingren Palace was originally called Chang’an Palace in the early Ming. It is said it once had two pavilions, 'Weihe' and 'Congshan', long since lost. In the 14th year of Jiajing (AD 1535), it was renamed Jingren Palace, the first palace of the Eastern Six. It was renovated several times in the Qing, the last time being the Guangxu reign. 'Jingren' means 'admiring benevolence,' taken from the Analects. In the early Ming, Zhu Di arranged a marriage for his grandson Zhu Zhanji and conferred on the bride the title of Crown Grandson’s Consort — she was Hu Shanxiang. When Zhu Di’s son, Zhu Gaochi, became emperor, he invested Hu Shanxiang as Crown Prince’s Consort. After Zhu Zhanji himself ascended the throne, Hu Shanxiang naturally became empress. Within two years, Zhu Zhanji claimed Empress Hu could not bear a son, deposed her and moved her from Kunning Palace to Jingren Palace, turning Jingren Palace into a cold palace.

In the early Qing, the Shunzhi Emperor’s Consort Tong lived in Jingren Palace and gave birth to Prince Xuanye, who later became the Kangxi Emperor. During the Yongzheng reign, Consort Xi (pronounced 'xī') — the future mother of Hongli — lived here; she was later elevated to Noble Consort, and Hongli went on to become the Qianlong Emperor. This Consort Xi is the Zhen Huan of TV dramas. After Qianlong ascended the throne, he promoted Noble Consort Xi to Empress Dowager Chongqing, who enjoyed extreme wealth and honour. At first, she moved out of Jingren Palace into the Yongshou Palace in the Western Six Palaces, the closest to the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Soon afterwards, Qianlong specially built the Shoukang Palace for the empress dowager; once completed, Empress Dowager Chongqing moved there. To celebrate her 60th birthday, Qianlong spent 4.5 million taels of silver building the Summer Palace. Empress Dowager Chongqing lived to be 84, the longest-lived empress dowager in Chinese history. After Empress Dowager Chongqing moved out, Qianlong’s Consort Chun lived here, followed by Consort Ying. Starting in the Yongzheng reign, Qing empresses no longer lived in Kunning Palace. The empress who bore the Jiaqing Emperor a son, Minning (pronounced 'Mǐn-níng'), lived in Jingren Palace; Minning later became the Daoguang Emperor. Minning was the prince who led soldiers to resist the Eight Trigram rebels at the Longzong Gate. The Guangxu Emperor’s Consort Dun (pronounced 'Kè') Shun Noble Consort also lived here — the Pearl Concubine.

Leaving Jingren Palace, continue east along the horizontal alley. Pass an alley gate called Jingyao Gate, and beyond it there is another north-south long lane. This is the Dong’er Changjie (Eastern Second Long Lane). Its southern end is right here at the horizontal alley; its northern end is the Qianying Gate, leading to the Beiwusuo (Northern Five Offices), also known as the Qian’east Five Offices. Cross Dong’er Changjie and continue east along the horizontal alley. Here is another courtyard; its glazed gate plaque has also been taken away for extensive repairs. This is the Yanxi Gate.

The Yanxi Gate is just like the Jingren Gate — a glazed 'wall-following' gate. In the early Ming, Yanxi Palace was called Changshou Palace, with the same architectural layout as Jingren Palace. In the 14th year of Ming Jiajing, it was renamed Yanqi Palace; in the Qing Shunzhi reign, it became Yanxi Palace. In the late Qing, a crystal palace called the 'Water Hall' was built here. Let’s go in and see that crystal palace.

In the middle is a pool with granite walls and a granite base — solid and durable. Fish were meant to be kept in it, of course. Push the fish aside and set a building in the middle of the fishpond. According to the original design, the building was to have a bronze framework, but during construction they switched to granite. Since the building sits in a pool, naturally there would be a level underwater — one could call it a basement or underwater floor. The basement’s original glass walls were changed to granite walls and granite buttresses; the arched windows were kept, allowing underwater fish viewing. The ground floor is also of granite construction, with Western-style arched windows and doors; however, all the relief carvings on the arches and walls are Chinese — which reminds me of the 'Great Green Mansion' at the old warlord residence in Shenyang, built in the Republican era, later than this crystal palace, and also a Western-style building with Chinese reliefs. The ground floor was originally designed to have a bronze-beam framed double-layered glass wall, with water pumped between the glass panels to keep fish — so you could watch them. A Western building normally has no veranda, but as it now appears, a projecting steel-frame portico has been added on the south side, and the framework for a surrounding ambulatory is also visible. The ground-floor plan is a square hall with hexagonal corner pavilions projecting from the four corners. Look at an angled corner.

The upper floor of the crystal palace is a terrace on which stand five pavilions. In the centre is a two-storey octagonal hall — a mix of Chinese and Western: from a Chinese perspective, it’s like an octagonal pavilion; from a Western one, it’s like a tempietto. At the four corners of the terrace are hexagonal attic towers rising from the ground-floor hexagonal pavilions — neither entirely Chinese nor entirely foreign. All these hexagonal and octagonal structures on the upper terrace are just frameworks. The original design specified bronze frames, but during construction they were changed; what you see now is all steel, and all the metal structure of the building was switched to steel. The framework of the second-storey pavilions was supposed to be filled with glass walls — probably the only surviving glass structures, had they been kept. Even though the design was altered, the cost of this crystal palace probably still exceeded the budget, so construction dragged on for three years without being completed. After the 1911 Revolution, the imperial household went broke and bankrupt; there was no way to continue building this crystal palace. A hundred years later, when I came, what I saw was still this unfinished, half-built wreck, exactly as it looked a century ago. You know, if this building had been finished, it might well have looked like a 'Diamond Throne Pagoda'. The Five Pagoda Temple outside the north gate of the Beijing Zoo has just such a pagoda.

There are also trees in Yanxi Palace: ginkgo trees. In late autumn they turn a dazzling gold.

Yanxi Palace is tucked away in a corner of the Eastern Six Palaces. Throughout the Ming, it was always occupied by consorts who weren’t particularly favoured. In the Shunzhi reign there weren’t that many consorts, so it was left empty for a time. In the 25th year of Kangxi (AD 1686) it was thoroughly renovated, and the newly elevated Consort Hui moved in. Consort Hui ranked first among Kangxi’s four principle consorts at the time — quite high in status. During the Yongzheng reign, in accordance with Kangxi’s will, she left the palace and moved to the residence of her adopted son, the Eighth Prince, Prince Lian Yinsi (pronounced 'Yìn-sì'). In the fourth year of Yongzheng, when Yinsi fell from grace, Consort Hui returned to the palace and lived in the Ningshou Palace. During the Qianlong reign, Consort Wan lived here. Early in Qianlong, she was Lady Chen; in the 14th year (AD 1749) she was made Imperial Concubine Wan; in the 59th year, Consort Wan, at the age of 78; and in the sixth year of Jiaqing (AD 1801), Noble Consort Dowager Wan, at 85. Noble Consort Dowager Wan passed away in the 12th year of Jiaqing, aged 92 — the longest-lived consort of the Qing, outliving both Qianlong and his mother. It seems Qianlong’s family had a longevity gene. Back then, never mind within the palace, even in the whole of Beijing there were no gyms or swimming pools; they didn’t do sport, yet they were long-lived. Qianlong’s father, Yongzheng, lived to 58 — a bit short; but his mother, Empress Dowager Chongqing, lived to 84, the longest-lived empress dowager of the Qing. Qianlong’s maternal grandmother and grandfather both lived into their eighties; his longevity gene came from his mother’s side. Strangely, Qianlong didn’t pass it on to Consort Ling, but gave it to Consort Wan, letting her live to 92, while Consort Ling only lived to 49. The son of Qianlong and Consort Ling, the Jiaqing Emperor, lived to 61 — not inheriting his father’s longevity. Subsequent emperors all took after Consort Ling and were not long-lived: Daoguang, 69; Xianfeng, 31; Tongzhi even worse — only 19. Later, the Guangxu Emperor Zaitian and the Xuantong Emperor Puyi, though not born as direct imperial sons, all carried the blood of Qianlong and Consort Ling’s combined line. See how formidable Consort Ling was? Her bloodline persisted right to the end of the Qing. The wildly popular 'Story of Yanxi Palace' says that Consort Ling lived in Yanxi Palace, but that’s pure dramatization with no historical evidence. Consort Ling was the apple of Qianlong’s eye; how could she live in such a remote place? She actually lived in the Chuxiu Palace within the Western Six Palaces, close to the Hall of Mental Cultivation. When she fell ill, she even moved into the east side chamber of the Hall of Mental Cultivation and lived there with Qianlong.

During the Daoguang reign — Qianlong’s grandson — Consort Tian of the Fuca clan lived together with Attendant Cheng and Attendant Chang in Yanxi Palace. Before the Jiaqing Emperor’s second son, Minning, ascended the throne as Daoguang, Lady Fuca was already Minning’s principal secondary consort. When Minning became emperor, in the fifth year of Daoguang (AD 1825) he made her Imperial Concubine Tian and she lived in Yanxi Palace. Daoguang liked novelty and tired of old favourites; he neglected Imperial Concubine Tian. But the empress got on well with her, and Daoguang occasionally referred to her as Consort Tian. In the 25th year of Daoguang, a great fire broke out in Yanxi Palace, burning down all the buildings and leaving only the gate. The ill-fated Consort Tian was severely injured in this fire; in the fifth month the fire raged, and by the seventh month she passed away.

In the 11th year of Tongzhi (AD 1872), an imperial decree was issued to rebuild Yanxi Palace. By then, the Style Lei architects had already started the site survey and even made a scale model ('tangyang') for approval, following the design of the Changchun Palace. The rebuilding decree was given, the survey completed, the site cleared, and even the model finished. The following year was the 12th year of Tongzhi, but according to the almanac, the 'directions were inauspicious,' so work did not begin. The next, the 13th year of Tongzhi, saw the start of renovations at the Summer Palace for Empress Dowager Cixi’s birthday celebrations— and funds for Yanxi Palace were tragically diverted. In the 12th lunar month of that year, a smallpox epidemic broke out. Tongzhi, who had never been vaccinated, was infected and died in the Hall of Mental Cultivation. As a result, after the Daoguang-era fire destroyed Yanxi Palace, the great rebuilding project was delayed through the Xianfeng and Tongzhi reigns. The Tongzhi period’s domestic situation was remarkably reminiscent of the end of the Eastern Han. In the Eastern Han, there was the Yellow Turban rebellion; under Tongzhi, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. Fighting the Yellow Turbans in the Eastern Han produced Cao Cao, Sun Quan and Liu Bei; fighting the Taiping under Tongzhi produced Zeng Guofan, Li Hongzhang and Zuo Zongtang. The Eastern Han was toppled by those three; Tongzhi also feared history repeating itself, and beyond that, the Eastern powers and Western powers were constantly threatening at China’s doorstep. Tongzhi didn’t have time to deal with domestic crisis and foreign menace before passing them on to the Guangxu Emperor. Under such circumstances, Guangxu knew the Great Qing could not last, and reluctantly launched the reforms; they failed, and the Qing fell.

In the late Qing, the treasury grew ever emptier, always in straitened circumstances. Worse, neither Tongzhi nor Guangxu had any modern financial sense; they wouldn’t issue bonds. Rebuilding Yanxi Palace — the money wasn’t a problem in theory; the problem was that there was none. Right up to the Xuantong Emperor’s accession, Empress Dowager Longyu — the one who had been brought in as Guangxu’s empress stepping over the scorched earth of the Gate of Supreme Harmony — finally took centre stage. Never once favoured with a direct look from Guangxu, she became empress dowager, and, copying her aunt Empress Dowager Cixi, she too began to listen to politics from behind a screen. As soon as she took charge, she wanted to make an inspection tour of every part of the rear palace, and thus she laid eyes on the empty Yanxi Palace. She turned it into a playground where the three-year-old Puyi could madly run about. Now that Longyu was in charge, she certainly wanted to launch a little infrastructure project of her own, and she remembered Yanxi Palace. Don’t judge by her plain looks: she had a good enough brain, having often eavesdropped on Guangxu’s reforms praising how wonderful the West was. So she decided to build a foreign-style building in Yanxi Palace. Empress Dowager Longyu appointed Guangxu’s Consort Jin as project manager to build the 'Water Hall,' popularly called the 'Crystal Palace.' Its grand name was Lingzhao Pavilion, and the location was where the front hall of the old Yanxi Palace had stood. The design was undoubtedly provided by some Westerner; the descendants of the Lei family would never have dreamed up such a rootless thing. Traditional Chinese imperial architecture is timber-framed with brick infill for walls; this crystal palace was a bronze-framed structure infilled with glass — glass then being treated as second-grade crystal. Although the crystal palace project got started, the original budget wasn’t enough. The designers kept applying for budget adjustments, while the client, Empress Dowager Longyu, kept vetoing them — she simply hadn’t the money in the coffers. As a result, the designers had to keep changing the design.

In the first year of Xuantong (AD 1909), construction of the crystal palace began. Two years later, a momentous event occurred. By then, the Qing court was unable to continue governing; revolutionary movements were surging. Besides the clinging Qing court itself, the Mongol nobles beyond the passes also wanted to preserve the Qing, establishing a constitutional monarchy like the British; whereas the reformists within the passes wanted to overthrow the Qing and establish a republic like the French. The two sides failed to reach an agreement and eventually went their separate ways: the Mongol nobles of Outer Mongolia created a de facto separation and eventually achieved a constitutional monarchy, while the reformists within the passes overthrew the Qing and founded the Republic of China. On the 25th day of the 12th lunar month of the third year of Xuantong (12 February 1912), Empress Dowager Longyu, holding the Xuantong Emperor in tow, issued the 'Edict of Abdication of the Qing Emperor' during the last morning audience in the Hall of Mental Cultivation. The edict contained a very important line: 'Still unite the complete territories of the five races — Han, Manchu, Mongol, Hui and Tibetan — into one great Republic of China.' According to Qing ancestral regulations, this edict should have been impressed with the 'Seal of the Emperor' or the 'Seal that Rectifies the Myriad Peoples,' two of the twenty-five seals kept in the Jiaotai Hall, but the actual seal used was Cixi’s privately carved 'Made by Heaven, Established the Way.' The seal was irregular, the edict improper in name and unright in substance — suggesting Longyu wished to leave a hidden opening for future restoration. Sure enough, in the sixth year of the Republic (AD 1917), Zhang Xun and Kang Youwei launched the short-lived, ten-day 'Dingsi Restoration.'

Once the Qing court collapsed, the half-finished Water Hall project in Yanxi Palace was completely abandoned. In 1931, the Palace Museum built a modest new building inside Yanxi Palace to serve as a storehouse for cultural relics. After New China built more advanced, climate-controlled storage, the Yanxi Palace building became a ceramics research centre and a calligraphy and painting research centre. In 2010, Yanxi Palace opened to the public, causing a sensation and even inspiring a novelist to script 'Story of Yanxi Palace' — though historically, Consort Ling had nothing to do with Yanxi Palace.

After viewing Yanxi Palace, I stepped outside the wall. Suddenly I noticed that the outer wall of the ancient calligraphy and painting research centre inside had glazed tile decorations that illustrate the typical post-and-beam structure of Chinese architecture — presumably the building itself is of such post-and-beam construction.

From Yanxi Palace, return to Dongyi Changjie and keep heading north.

(To be continued)