Unless you enjoy people stepping on your toes, tourists poking you in the back and barely visible displays, avoid the National Museum of History’s (NMH) The Golden Age of the Qing: Treasures From the Shenyang Palace Museum (大清盛世—瀋陽故宮文物展) on weekends. Saturday afternoon found this reviewer squeezed into the exhibit’s dimly lit space with hundreds of other museumgoers keen to catch a glimpse of the garments, weapons, jewelry and furniture on loan from Shenyang Palace (瀋陽故宮), located in northeastern China and designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2004.
The crowd at the entrance was three-people deep — a child had to be hoisted up to see the introductory contents. A guided tour of about 30 people managed to obscure entire displays — an easy feat, considering the maze of glass display cases visitors are forced to circumvent.
Despite this, The Golden Age of the Qing is not to be missed. The show follows on the heels of recent collaborations between the NMH and museums in China, and provides another “great breakthrough in cross-strait cultural exchange,” according to Chang Yu-tan (張譽騰), the museum’s director.
Photos courtesy of the National Museum of History
A year in the making, the top-down exhibit presents artifacts from the early seat of Manchurian power established after busybody chieftain Nurhaci united the region’s disparate nomadic tribes in the early 17th century.
Begun in 1625, Shenyang Palace was expanded in 1636, a decade after Huang Taijin (皇太極), Nurhaci’s son, ascended the throne. It was also during this time that Huang conquered northern China, crowned himself Qing emperor and changed the name Shenyang (瀋陽) to Shengjing (盛京), or “Flourishing Capital.” In 1644, after defeating Ming loyalists at the Battle of Shanhai Pass (山海關之戰), Emperor Shunzhi (順治皇帝) moved the Manchu seat of power to Beijing, but Shenyang retained some symbolic power.
Though the exhibit is presented in five sections — The Rise of the Manchus; Emperors and Empire; Warriors of the Eight Banners; Beauties of the Court; and Luxuries of the Court and the Imperial Life — it essentially tells one story in two parts.
Photo courtesy of the National Museum of History
The first, common with exhibits of this kind, examines the imperial line beginning with Nurhaci. The second, less common, offers a glimpse of the fashions and mores of the imperial concubines. The two themes are linked by the Eight Banners (八旗), a hierarchical (class or caste) system of administration established by Nurhaci in 1605 (though it wasn’t fully implemented until 1642). The banners were employed in all facets of life, from hunting to entertainment and religious rituals.
The exhibit explains in detail the structure and purpose of each banner — the ethnicity of its members, their rank and pay, and how each was positioned on the field of battle. The color-coded armor worn by each banner’s soldiers is here displayed along with their corresponding flags. The bows and arrows used by the cavalry and swords and daggers used by the infantry are shown alongside colorful paintings depicting military formations. Historians agree that the Eight Banner system made the Manchu army a potent military force.
The organization of the banner system also extended to the imperial court, as is revealed by the somewhat euphemistically titled Beauties of the Court section. The clothing and jewelry of the emperor’s concubines were ordered along the same lines as the military.
Photo courtesy of the National Museum of History
“No expression of personality was allowed. Forms of costume, be it court robe or ceremonial robe, [followed] set regulations with colors and decorative patters as symbols of rank,” states one of the many excellent essays in the exhibition catalogue.
The museum, to its credit, gives over considerable space to these lovely garments: a court vest of midnight black bearing a golden dragon, or a gorgeous yellow silk robe with vivid butterfly designs in various hues of blue. As with much of the armor, these costumes are displayed in rectangular glass cases, providing visitors with the opportunity to view the intricate stitch work and insignia of rank from all angles.
The displays include the accessories worn by these women — the kind of flourishes that ensured they were presentable to the emperor. Enameled hand mirrors, cosmetics boxes inlaid with lapis lazuli, silk fans and shoes and jewelry made from emerald hint that these “ladies” were bestowed with one purpose: to serve the emperor and produce his descendents.
Photo courtesy of the National Museum of History
There is much else on view here. One room presents in detail the Battle for Shanhai Pass while another room houses a small-scale replica of Shenyang Palace. Some will be delighted by the section on Manchu cuisine: “When dining at home, Manchus preferred hot pot.” There is even a display on “eco-friendly” iceboxes, which were used to keep meat and vegetables fresh during the summer months. But it is the numerous gowns, coats of armor, jewelry and weapons that make this show stand out.
And beyond admiring the beautiful artifacts, there is a lesson to be learned. Ironically, the highly ordered and inflexible Eight Banner system, which facilitated the Manchus’ rise to power in the 17th century, also contributed to the Qing Dynasty’s downfall more than 250 years later.
Photo courtesy of the National Museum of History
Photo courtesy of the National Museum of History
Many people noticed the flood of pro-China propaganda across a number of venues in recent weeks that looks like a coordinated assault on US Taiwan policy. It does look like an effort intended to influence the US before the meeting between US President Donald Trump and Chinese dictator Xi Jinping (習近平) over the weekend. Jennifer Kavanagh’s piece in the New York Times in September appears to be the opening strike of the current campaign. She followed up last week in the Lowy Interpreter, blaming the US for causing the PRC to escalate in the Philippines and Taiwan, saying that as
This year’s Miss Universe in Thailand has been marred by ugly drama, with allegations of an insult to a beauty queen’s intellect, a walkout by pageant contestants and a tearful tantrum by the host. More than 120 women from across the world have gathered in Thailand, vying to be crowned Miss Universe in a contest considered one of the “big four” of global beauty pageants. But the runup has been dominated by the off-stage antics of the coiffed contestants and their Thai hosts, escalating into a feminist firestorm drawing the attention of Mexico’s president. On Tuesday, Mexican delegate Fatima Bosch staged a
Taiwan can often feel woefully behind on global trends, from fashion to food, and influences can sometimes feel like the last on the metaphorical bandwagon. In the West, suddenly every burger is being smashed and honey has become “hot” and we’re all drinking orange wine. But it took a good while for a smash burger in Taipei to come across my radar. For the uninitiated, a smash burger is, well, a normal burger patty but smashed flat. Originally, I didn’t understand. Surely the best part of a burger is the thick patty with all the juiciness of the beef, the
Nov. 3 to Nov. 9 In 1925, 18-year-old Huang Chin-chuan (黃金川) penned the following words: “When will the day of women’s equal rights arrive, so that my talents won’t drift away in the eastern stream?” These were the closing lines to her poem “Female Student” (女學生), which expressed her unwillingness to be confined to traditional female roles and her desire to study and explore the world. Born to a wealthy family on Nov. 5, 1907, Huang was able to study in Japan — a rare privilege for women in her time — and even made a name for herself in the