Daming Palace

Listen first. Beneath your feet, the gravel crunches softly, and the wind moves across an open lawn that seems far too wide for the middle of a city. Somewhere behind you, traffic hums. Ahead, low earthen platforms rise from the grass like sleeping animals. There are no golden roofs here, no painted beams. And yet, for more than two centuries, this quiet ground was the centre of one of the most powerful courts on Earth.

You are standing in the Daming Palace National Heritage Park, in Xi'an. Under the Tang dynasty, this city was called Chang'an, which means Lasting Peace. The Tang ruled China from the seventh to the early tenth century. Their capital was one of the largest planned cities in the world, laid out in a grid of walled wards and broad avenues. Daming Palace sat on its northeastern edge, on raised ground above the city.

The story begins with a son and a father. In 634, Emperor Taizong started building a summer residence here for his father, the retired founding emperor, Li Yuan. The old man had stepped aside after a violent struggle between his sons. Taizong had won that struggle. Historians often read the new palace as an act of filial respect, and perhaps of repair. But Li Yuan died the following year, and the work slowed before it was finished.

The palace came back to life under Taizong's son, Emperor Gaozong. In the 660s, Gaozong was unwell, and the older palace in the city centre stood on low, damp ground. He wanted drier air and higher land. So he expanded this site on a grand scale. From then on, Daming Palace became the main home of the emperors and the place where the empire was governed. Its name means Palace of Great Brightness.

Here is the first surprise. This palace complex covered more than three square kilometres. That is several times larger than the Forbidden City in Beijing, the palace most visitors imagine when they think of imperial China. Walk from the southern gate to the northern edge, and you will feel the distance in your legs. The scale was the message. Envoys arriving from Japan, Korea, Central Asia and Persia were meant to feel small.

The main southern entrance was Danfeng Gate, the Gate of the Red Phoenix. Today a modern structure stands over its excavated foundations, shaped to suggest the outline of the original gatehouse. It protects the ancient remains inside while giving you a sense of the gate's width. Archaeologists found that it had five passageways, an unusual number that marked its high rank. Emperors appeared here to announce amnesties and to mark great occasions.

Now look north. The long rise in front of you leads to Hanyuan Hall, the great ceremonial hall of the palace. It stood on a natural ridge, so the building towered over the courtyard below. Officials approached up a long, sloping stone path known as the Dragon Tail Way. Imagine climbing it in heavy court robes, in winter, on New Year's morning, while drums sounded and the emperor watched from above.

What you see today at Hanyuan Hall are rebuilt platforms of rammed earth, faced and protected so the originals survive beneath. Rammed earth was the basic building material of the Tang world. Workers packed soil into wooden frames, layer by layer, pounding each layer hard. The halls above were made of timber, with wide roofs of grey and glazed tile. The timber has gone. The packed earth is what remains.

The palace was not only a stage for ceremony. Deeper inside lay halls for daily government, for banquets, and for private life. Linde Hall, in the western part of the complex, was used for grand feasts and receptions. Excavations show it was made of several connected halls. It is often described as one of the largest single building complexes known from the Tang period. Picture music, dancers, and long rows of guests from distant lands.

At the heart of the northern gardens lies Taiye Pool, a large artificial lake. In its water rose a small island called Penglai, named after a legendary island of the immortals in Chinese myth. Emperors who longed for long life liked this symbolism. Today the lake has been reshaped as part of the park, and on calm days the water holds the reflection of the sky and the willows along its banks.

Many famous figures lived and ruled within these walls. Wu Zetian, the only woman in Chinese history to rule as emperor in her own name, held court here during part of her long career. Emperor Xuanzong, whose reign saw Tang poetry and music at their height, also used the palace. Poets such as Wang Wei and Du Fu wrote of mornings at court here, of officials waiting in the cold before dawn.

The end was swift and harsh. In the late ninth century, the Tang state was falling apart. Warlords fought over the capital, and the palace was damaged again and again. In 904, the warlord Zhu Wen forced the emperor to move east to Luoyang. Chang'an was largely torn down, and its timbers were floated away down the river. Within a few years, the Tang dynasty itself was gone.

Here is the second surprise. For many centuries, much of this site was farmland and, later, crowded housing. Serious excavation began in the 1950s. In the early twenty-first century, large numbers of residents were moved, and the ground was opened as this park. In 2014, the palace site became part of a UNESCO World Heritage listing for the Silk Roads, because ambassadors and traders from across Asia once came here.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment on one of the raised platforms. Look at the shape of the ground, the long straight lines, the empty spaces between the mounds. Those spaces were once filled with halls, courtyards and crowds of people. Now there are joggers, kites and families with children. As you walk back toward the city, listen again to the gravel under your feet. It is the same ground the emperors walked.