The houses the manuals were written for
The yang-house texts assume a house, and it is not the reader’s. The Beijing courtyard house room by room, the gate in the south-east, the screen, the hall facing south and the wings by generation; the sky-well house of the south with its four waters returning to the hall; the earth buildings of Fujian and the sunken courts of the loess; what each form built of the tradition’s sentence; and what the modern flat kept of the plan and what it lost.
Oriented NE 033°
Earth
When a yang-house manual says “the house”, it means a particular building, and the reader who does not know which one misreads half its rules. The manuals of the Ming and Qing assume the courtyard house of the north, walled, gated in the south-east, with its hall along the north facing south and its household sorted into wings; their rules about gates, screens, halls and stoves are rules about that plan. The rest of China built the same sentence in other shapes, the tall sky-well houses of the south, the ringed earth buildings of Fujian, the courts dug into the loess, and each kept the tradition in a different part of the building. This essay gives the courtyard house room by room, the three regional forms and what each made of the rules, and what the modern flat, which is where the reader lives, kept of the plan and lost.
The courtyard house, room by room
The Beijing courtyard house, siheyuan, the enclosure on four sides, is a walled rectangle with its long axis north and south and its buildings on the four sides of one or more courts, and everything the manuals say about a house can be walked through it. The gate is in the south-east corner, in the sector the Later Heaven bagua gives to Xun, the wind, which the bagua essay explains and which the manuals call the gate of the wind for the good qi it lets in; it is never on the axis, and a household entering turns at once, because a spirit screen, yingbi, stands inside it and takes the line. Beyond the screen is the front court with the south row of rooms along the street wall, facing north and given to the servants, the kitchen and the study, the rooms the household could spare the sun. On the axis stands the inner gate, the hanging-flower gate, chuihua men, which divides the outer household from the inner and which a guest did not pass unasked. Beyond it is the main court, and on its three sides the family: the principal hall, zheng fang, along the north, facing south, raised on its platform, with the ancestral altar on its back wall and the elders’ rooms either side, which the household gods and furniture essays furnish; and the wings, xiang fang, east and west, the east for the eldest son’s family and the west for the second, the house for old age guide having drawn the generations in place. A rich house repeats the main court once or twice more to the north, and a garden lies beyond the last hall. The plan is the tradition’s sentence built: the wall behind, the open court in front of the hall as its bright hall, the gate at the corner, water, if there is any, in the court. When the manuals forbid a gate on the axis, a hall facing north or a kitchen in the north-west, they are describing this house’s mistakes, and the reader in a flat should know which of their rules are the plan’s and which are the room’s.
The south, the ring and the pit
The drawing above sets the courtyard house beside three of the forms the rest of the country built, and each keeps the tradition somewhere else. The sky-well house of Huizhou and the lower Yangtze, the house of the salt and tea merchants of the Ming and Qing, is the courtyard squeezed by land and heat: tall, narrow, two storeys deep between whitewashed walls, with a small open court at its centre, the sky-well, tianjing, that gives the house its light, its air and its water, and the hall open to the court behind it. The tradition is in the section rather than the plan, and the next drawing gives it. The earth building of Fujian, tulou, the ring house of the Hakka and Minnan lineages, is the courtyard bent into a circle and raised into a fort: three or four storeys of rammed earth with every room facing the inner court, the ancestral hall at the centre, and a single gate, sited by the Form School as a village is sited, with the hill behind the ring and the stream before its gate, and the whole lineage inside. The sunken court of the loess plateau, the dikengyuan of Henan and Shanxi, is the courtyard dug rather than built: a pit eight or nine metres deep in flat ground, with the rooms cut as vaulted caves into its four walls and a ramp entering from the south, so that the earth is behind every room, the principal rooms in the north wall face south into the sun, and the fields go on over the roof. Golany measured the caves at a steady temperature summer and winter that no built house of the region matches, which is the tradition’s back-to-the-hill as thermal mass. Four houses, one sentence: the hall facing south with the earth behind it, the water kept in front, the gate to the south or south-east, and the household arranged round a court by rank.
What the flat kept
The reader lives in none of these, and the question the essay exists for is what the plan the manuals assume has to do with a flat on the ninth floor. More than it seems, and less than the paperbacks say. What the flat kept is the sequence: a door, a place inside it to turn, the living room as the hall with the household’s seats and its pictures on the far wall, the bedrooms behind it by rank, the kitchen at the side, and the window as the court, the flat’s one source of light, air and view. The entrance page is the front court, the living room the hall, the small apartments guide the sky-well house’s problem of depth, and the rules the site gives for each are the courtyard’s rules scaled. What the flat lost is the court itself, the open ground in front of the hall that every one of the four houses has, and with it the tradition’s bright hall, its water and its sky; a balcony is what remains, which is why the room guides make so much of one. And what the flat never had is the gate in the south-east, the wings by generation and the ancestral hall, the parts of the plan that were the household’s structure rather than the house’s, and the parts the manuals’ rules most often concern. A reader who finds a rule in a manual should ask which room of the courtyard house it was written for, and the misconceptions essay gives the ones that did not survive the move.
Reading a house by its plan, in order
- Find the hall. The room the household gathers in, with its back to the solid side of the house and its face to the light; in the courtyard it faced south, in a flat it faces the window.
- Find the court. The open ground in front of the hall, the tradition’s bright hall; the court, the sky-well, the ring’s centre, the pit; in a flat, the window and the balcony.
- Find the gate. Where the house is entered and how the line is turned inside it; the south-east corner and the screen, or a door and a place to pause.
- Sort the rooms by rank. The elders and the sleepers deepest in, the kitchen and the servants nearest the street; the bedroom at the far end of the flat.
- Find the water. Where the rain goes and where the water stands; the sky-well keeps it, the courtyard collects it, the flat has a bathroom and a rule about its door.
- Ask which house the rule was for. Every rule in a manual has a room of the courtyard house behind it; find the room before you apply the rule.