What did the walls of Huế actually mean? A guide to seven motifs of the Nguyễn Dynasty

Most people who visit the Hue Citadel today remember the scale of it: the moats, the vermillion gates, the layered courtyards receding into distance. What is easier to miss is the density of meaning covering every surface. Every motif across the palaces, archways, and ceiling panels of the Nguyễn court was selected with precision, each symbol representing cultural beliefs about power, family, time, and what a well-lived life might look like.

The Nguyễn dynasty was the last feudal dynasty of Vietnam, lasting 143 years across thirteen emperors, from Gia Long's coronation in 1802 to the abdication of Bảo Đại in 1945. Under Emperor Gia Long, the Imperial City of Hue was constructed in 1804 as a new capital, not only a political center but one of the most concentrated repositories of Vietnamese symbolic art in existence. In 1993, the Imperial City was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, recognizing its historical and cultural significance. The density of cultural objects is the result of a court that treated every architectural surface as a canvas for meaning.

The Five-Clawed Dragon (Rồng Ngũ Trảo)

In the art of the Nguyễn dynasty, the five-clawed dragon was a motif reserved exclusively for the Emperor. During the Later Lê and Nguyễn dynasties, four-clawed and three-clawed dragons were designated for subjects, as strict regulations existed on how many claws a dragon could have based on the status of the person. Imperial dragons in the Nguyễn court followed Chinese iconographic conventions, depicted with 81 yang scales, 36 yin scales, a body curving in nine sections, and five-clawed feet. Folk dragons, by contrast, often have three or four claws and appear in various hybrid forms including, notably, transformations of ordinary creatures and plants.

The motif most associated with the Nguyễn throne is the combination of this dragon with the character “Thọ” (壽) (longevity). The configuration “Rồng ăn chữ Thọ” (the dragon coiled around the longevity character) has been historically read as a blessing for the dynasty, a wish for the Emperor's eternal reign. In the Hue Citadel, from the dragon screen in front of Thái Hòa Palace to the steps at Ngọ Môn Gate, the dragon consistently occupies a central position, affirming the Emperor's supreme status.

According to researchers, the dragon imagery of the Nguyễn Dynasty presents a distinct contrast. While Chinese dragons look more ornate and carry imperial authority, Vietnamese dragons showed a simpler form and more closely tied to the lives of people, embodying harmony and blessing meaning in everyday life. Although the five-clawed motif was historically restricted to the royal court, the core message it conveys, a wish for a long, meaningful life was never quite as exclusive.

Five Bats, Five Blessings (Ngũ Phúc)

Few motifs in Vietnamese decorative arts carry the same reach as the bat. It appears on the enamelled bronze panels of the Huế Imperial Palace, on lacquerwork, on carved ceiling panels, on the royal costumes worn by court women, on almost every surface and medium the Nguyễn craftsmen worked with. Having these motifs appear everywhere was an intentional choice. The word for bat sounds like the word for blessings. More precisely, the word for bat in Chinese, fú (蝠), is a homophone of fú (福), meaning fortune or blessing - a phonetic association that entered Vietnamese decorative culture through centuries of Sino-Vietnamese exchange. This phonetic overlap transformed the bat into one of the most widely repeated auspicious symbols of the period.

The most persistent configuration is “Ngũ Phúc”: five bats around the character for longevity (thọ). The five blessings they represent are “Phú” (wealth), “Quý” (social position), “Thọ” (longevity), “Khang” (good health), and “Ninh” (peace). Together, they form the conception of a complete life.

The assumption embedded in that repetition is a belief that what fills your environment shapes who you become. You surround yourself with what you want your life to contain. Every surface became a quiet statement about how one intended to live.

The Chrysanthemum (Hoa Cúc)

The chrysanthemum is one of the Four Gentlemen (Tứ Quân Tử), alongside the plum blossom (mai), orchid, and bamboo, a grouping threaded throughout Vietnamese decorative arts, appearing in temple woodwork, mother-of-pearl inlay furniture, and ceramics. Each plant in the tradition encodes a virtue. The chrysanthemum, which blooms in late autumn after every other flower has already gone, belongs to those who choose integrity over ambition, the calm mind of a person indifferent to fame and fortune.

This association runs deep in East Asian literary tradition. The poet Tao Yuanming (365 - 427) resigned from official life to tend his garden, and his line "I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge, and gaze afar towards the southern mountains" became the defining image of the flower as a symbol of a reclusive life. Since then, the chrysanthemum has carried the reputation of the hermit: blooming in bright colors during chilly autumn, when most flowers have already withered, without attempting to compete. Researchers studying the decorative arts of Huế have documented that the craftsmen extended this symbolism into something stranger and more specific. Botanical motifs here frequently undergo transformation. Bamboo becomes dragon, plum blossom becomes phoenix, and chrysanthemum becomes the kylin (unicorn). But by showing it transforming into a unicorn, the Nguyễn craftsmen argued that nature is not passive. The flower doesn't just endure the passing of time, but evolves in a fierce, protective power that no one could have predicted just by looking at a seed.

The Dragonfly (Chuồn Chuồn)

The dragonfly occupies a distinct place in Vietnamese cultural symbolism, with two distinct registers. At the everyday level, it was a natural weather instrument. The ancient proverb "Chuồn chuồn bay thấp thì mưa, bay cao thì nắng, bay vừa thì râm" guided farming communities for generations: the dragonfly flies low before rain, high in clear weather, and level when clouds gather.

At the court level, the dragonfly carried two names in classical Vietnamese literature. “Phi điệp” - the flying thing that is not a butterfly and “Thanh đình” - the blue pavilion. Pairing with the chrysanthemum, the famous motif “Cúc-Đình", appears across the ceremonial spaces, associated with two Confucian virtues: “thanh” (purity, clarity) and “chính” (integrity, uprightness). The chrysanthemum waits for its season without competing. The dragonfly reads conditions before acting. Read together, they form a core message that patience is not the absence of ambition. It is the ability to be still enough to see clearly before you move.

The Pomegranate (Quả lựu)

The pomegranate in Vietnamese and Sino-Vietnamese decorative tradition almost never appears whole. Its significant form is cracked open, seeds visible and numerous, clustered in ordered abundance. The phrase that accompanies this image is “Lựu khai bách tử”: the pomegranate that opens to reveal a hundred seeds. In Chinese, the character for seed (tử / 子) shares its sound with the character for “son” or “descendant”, an association that runs across East Asian decorative arts for over a millennium. 

In the Vietnamese decorative vocabulary, the pomegranate forms part of “Tam Quả” (the three fruits), appearing in wedding and celebration contexts, frequently embroidered into the costumes of queens and empresses. The three fruits - the peach for longevity, the Buddha's hand for fortune, and the pomegranate for descendants. Together, they measure a full life not only in years, but in what it produces and passes on. 

The Peacock Feather (Đuôi công)

In the Qing dynasty court, from which the Nguyễn dynasty drew significant institutional influence, peacock feathers were used as honours bestowed by the emperor for outstanding merit. They were worn by imperial princes, prince consorts, and high-ranking officials as part of official costume. Two-eyed and three-eyed feathers were rarely granted, the number of eyes told you how far a person had come.

At almost the same historical moment, the peacock feather became the defining emblem of Art Nouveau. Western designers fell in love with its iridescent colors and winding, organic geometry. Beardsley made it a defining motif in his illustrations for Oscar Wilde's Salomé (1894), René Lalique incorporated it into jewelry while Louis Comfort Tiffany built doors and lamps around its form. Spanning across oceans, the feather embodied two messages at once: signaling the height of imperial structure in Asia, and charting the birth of modern artistic freedom in Europe.

Double Happiness (Song Hỉ)

The character “Hỷ” (喜) means joy. Written twice, side by side, it becomes 囍 - Song Hỷ, or double happiness. In Vietnamese and Sino-Vietnamese tradition, this symbol belongs to marriage: two people, one life, joy multiplied by being shared. It appeared in palace halls and family homes alike, an association so familiar it became a shorthand for a single occasion.

At gammeCOLLECTIVE, we use “Song Hỷ” to honors the happiness you found with your inner self. Because we believe not all unions happen between two people. Some of the most important ones happen inside a single person. It is a reminder that the most important relationship you will ever tend to is the one with yourself.

Why We Made This Collection

That conversation between East and West did not stop at the palace walls. An Định Palace (Cung An Định), a unique architectural masterpiece of the Nguyễn Dynasty, marks the period when Vietnamese art began to be significantly influenced by the European neoclassical style. The palace represents an intersection of three architectural backgrounds: the traditional Huế garden house, French neoclassicism, and Chinese architecture. Despite these "hybrid" elements, the building remains remarkably harmonious, brought together by a thoughtful color palette and the Vietnamization of Western decorative motifs. 

Art Nouveau - the defining European design movement of the 1890s, was inspired by Japanese art, drawing on its bold graphic lines and organic forms to create its most recognizable motif: the whiplash curve. Japonisme, the term coined by French art critic Philippe Burty in 1872, describes the fashion for Japanese art that swept through Europe following the opening of Japan to foreign trade from 1854 onwards. This shows a connection between two worlds, and answers why two design styles were crossed. It’s a testament of how nature was always the main inspiration in every aspect of human lives, including architecture, art, poetry and music.

The fleur-de-lis (Lily flower), which became the emblem of the French monarchy from the 12th century onward, appears in the ironwork of late Nguyễn gates and facades. In Vietnamese, the lily is “bách hợp”: “bách” means a hundred, “hợp” means union. The same flower, carrying a different name and a different meaning, meeting in the same gate. The hibiscus (hoa dâm bụt) grew along ordinary fences and roadsides across Vietnam, considered unworthy of formal art. Art Nouveau was built around natural forms with long curved stamens, thin layered petals, lines that felt alive. 

Most cultural overlap does not begin with a meeting. It begins with two people noticing the same thing without knowing the other one noticed it too. Both traditions shared the same conviction that the forms found in nature carry meaning, and that what surrounds you each day shapes who you become. At gammeCOLLECTIVE, we are a Vietnamese slow fashion brand based in Paris. We arrived at these motifs already standing at the intersection of both histories. We wove them into Vietnamese mulberry silk.

We make goods that take that seriously.