Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum Scenic Area, Nanjing 南京中山陵景区

Welcome, everyone, to Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum in Nanjing. Today I'll be guiding you along the main axis — from Xiaojing Ding Square through the Bai'ai Archway, the Sacred Way, the Mausoleum Gate, the Stele Pavilion, the Stone Steps, the Memorial Hall, and finally the Burial Chamber — as we pay our respects to one of the greatest commemorative complexes in modern Chinese history.

Let's start with the mausoleum as a whole. Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum is the resting place of Sun Yat-sen, the forefather of China's democratic revolution. Designed by architect Lu Yanzhi, it broke ground in 1926 and was completed in 1929, covering 2,000 mu of land. Why is it called "Zhongshan" Mausoleum? Sun Yat-sen's given name was Wen, his courtesy name was Zaizhi, and his pen name was Yixian. "Zhongshan" was the alias he used while in exile in Japan — "Zhongshan Qiao," meaning "Woodcutter of the Middle Mountain" — and it became the name by which all of China came to know him. Seen from the air, the entire mausoleum layout traces the shape of a liberty bell. The bell symbolizes "awakening the people." The bell's top forms the Memorial Hall and Burial Chamber; the bottom is the Bai'ai Archway. This was the first time in modern Chinese architectural history that a building's footprint itself carried a political idea. The mausoleum is a national key cultural relic protection site and a 5A-rated tourist attraction. Admission is free, but advance registration through official channels is required. The Burial Chamber is open Tuesday through Friday and closed on Mondays for maintenance. Along the central axis, from the Bai'ai Archway to the Burial Chamber, the path spans 700 meters horizontally and climbs 70 meters, with 392 stone steps in all.

You're now standing in Xiaojing Ding Square. The purple-bronze cauldron in front of you weighs over 10,000 jin and was donated in 1933 by the entire faculty and student body of Sun Yat-sen University in Guangzhou, along with the university's president at the time — Nationalist elder Dai Jitao. The front of the cauldron bears three characters: "Wisdom, Benevolence, Courage" — the university's motto and Sun Yat-sen's personal charge to China's young people. Inside the cauldron stands a hexagonal bronze plaque inscribed with the full text of the Classic of Filial Piety, in the handwriting of Dai Jitao's mother — which is how this cauldron got its name: the Xiaojing Ding, or "Classic of Filial Piety Cauldron."

This cauldron isn't here by chance. In Chinese tradition, the ding cauldron is a symbol of the state — the legendary King Yu cast nine cauldrons to establish the realm. Placing one here at the entrance to the mausoleum is a declaration: Sun Yat-sen's life's work was the foundation of this nation's journey toward a modern republic. From where you're standing, look north past the cauldron — the Bai'ai Archway, the Mausoleum Gate, and the Memorial Hall unfold one behind the other in the green of Purple Mountain. That layered revelation is precisely what Lu Yanzhi designed: he wanted every visitor who arrives here to feel a sense of reverence before they've taken a single step. Now let's move onto the central axis.

The stone archway ahead is the formal entrance to the mausoleum — the Bai'ai Archway. It's a chongtian-style pailou with three bays, four columns, and three tiered roofs, built entirely of white granite. The two characters at the center of the main plaque — "Bai'ai," meaning Universal Love — are in Sun Yat-sen's own hand. "Bai'ai" is a remarkable phrase: it's neither the Confucian "ren'ai" (benevolent love) nor the Western "fraternity" in its pure form. Sun Yat-sen took the concept from the French Revolutionary motto — liberté, égalité, fraternité — and fused it with the Chinese tradition of humaneness to arrive at something uniquely his own. Of all the inscriptions Sun Yat-sen ever wrote, "Bai'ai" was the one he repeated most — he gave it to all kinds of people and organizations over the course of his life, well over a hundred times. In many ways, these two characters are the first key to understanding who Sun Yat-sen was.

From the moment you step through the Bai'ai Archway, every stone beneath your feet was carefully chosen. The stone comes from Jinshan in Suzhou, and the masonry was carried out by craftsmen from Doucun village in Jiangning — families who had been carving stone for Nanjing's imperial city since the Ming dynasty. Notice one detail about this archway: although it takes the traditional pailou form, all the ornamental excess has been stripped away — no dragons, no phoenixes, no stacked bracket sets. The lines are extraordinarily clean. This is Lu Yanzhi's "Chinese essence, Western method" philosophy at work: taking a traditional Chinese form and reinterpreting it through the lens of modern architectural restraint. Now let's pass through the archway and onto the Sacred Way.

The path we're walking now is the Sacred Way — 442 meters long and about 40 meters wide. Look at the cedar trees lining both sides. They're evergreen, always this shade of deep green, standing like two silent rows of sentinels from the Bai'ai Archway all the way to the Mausoleum Gate ahead. The design of this path is deliberate: it isn't flat — it rises gently, so that with every step you take, the horizon lifts a little higher. Why? Lu Yanzhi wanted visitors to physically experience the sensation of looking upward as they walked — a feeling of reverence built not through words, but through the body itself.

The Sacred Way serves as a transitional space within the mausoleum's central axis. As you walk in from the noise of the city, the cedars filter the sound away, one layer at a time, until the only thing you hear is your own footsteps on the path. That shift from bustle to stillness is itself a kind of preparation — it tells every person who enters: you've left the everyday world behind, and you're walking toward somewhere that asks something of you.

If you'd like a photograph, try standing in the middle of the path and turning to shoot back toward the Bai'ai Archway, using the cedars as a natural frame. In late autumn or early winter, the deep green of the cedars against the red leaves of Purple Mountain in the background makes for a beautifully layered shot. The Mausoleum Gate is just ahead — let's keep going.

Look up — the building ahead with the single-eave hip-and-gable roof is the Mausoleum Gate, the starting point of the mausoleum's main structures. The plaque above the entrance bears four characters in Sun Yat-sen's own calligraphy: "Tianxia wei gong" — All Under Heaven Is for All. The phrase comes from the Confucian classic Book of Rites: "When the great way prevails, all under heaven is shared by all." Sun Yat-sen devoted his entire life to this ideal: a nation with no emperor, a nation that belongs not to the few but to every citizen.

The gate has three arched doorways — you may have noticed that the central one is closed. The center door stays shut on ordinary days and opens only on major commemorative occasions, such as Sun Yat-sen's birthday and the anniversary of his death. Visitors enter and exit through the side doors. All three arched doors are fitted with purple-bronze latticed double panels, and the characters "Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum" above the lintel are rendered in the bold, formal Yan-style clerical script.

The roof here is covered in blue glazed tiles, not yellow — and that is a very deliberate choice. In traditional Chinese architecture, yellow glazed tiles were reserved exclusively for imperial use. But Sun Yat-sen was the founder of a democratic republic, not an emperor. Lu Yanzhi chose blue: a color that represented the Nationalist Party and also evoked the clear sky — the open sky after dynastic rule had been swept away. From this gate onward, every roof in the complex carries the same blue tiles, a unified architectural language running through the entire mausoleum. Let's pass through the gate — the next landmark is the Stele Pavilion.

The double-eave hip-and-gable pavilion in front of you is the Stele Pavilion — about 19 meters tall with sides of roughly 13 meters, topped in blue glazed tiles. Inside stands an enormous granite stele, 8.23 meters high and 5.33 meters wide, weighing several dozen tons. This stele was moved up the mountain by rolling logs, inch by inch, from the foot of the hill.

Step closer and read the inscription. It says: "The Chinese Nationalist Party buries Premier Sun here — Republic of China, June 1, Year 18." Twenty-four characters in all. Who wrote them? Tan Yankai, then chairman of the National Government — widely considered the greatest master of Yan-style calligraphy in the Republican era. There's a fascinating story behind it: legend has it that Tan Yankai rewrote the inscription three hundred times before settling on the final version, such was the weight he felt in the commission. And yet, strangely, he did not sign his name. Why? Because Tan Yankai felt it would be disrespectful for a subordinate of Sun Yat-sen to put his own name on his superior's tomb. So the stele carries the text alone, with no attribution.

There's another important detail worth noticing: this stele has no epitaph. By Chinese tradition, the tomb of an emperor or major figure would be accompanied by a lengthy inscription praising their life and achievements. But this stele has a single sentence — nothing more. The original plan was to ask the classical scholar Zhang Taiyan to compose an epitaph, but that plan fell through. Over the years, a quiet saying emerged among the people: Sun Yat-sen's achievements are beyond anything words can contain — no inscription speaks louder than silence.

One more thing about the Stele Pavilion itself. It wasn't part of Lu Yanzhi's original competition design — it was added in a later revision. The reason: to give the function of "commemorating the man" its own dedicated space, leaving the Memorial Hall free to focus on "honoring his ideas." In other words, the Stele Pavilion is where you remember Sun Yat-sen the person; the Memorial Hall is where you reflect on what he stood for. Separating a single ceremonial space into two distinct functional layers was a pioneering move in modern Chinese architectural design. Now, after the Stele Pavilion comes the most breathtaking part of the mausoleum — the stone steps.

Ladies and gentlemen, what you're facing now is the mausoleum's most iconic feature — 392 stone steps. From where you stand to the Memorial Hall at the summit, the elevation rises 73 meters. The steps are broken into sections, each separated by a terraced landing. Before we start climbing, let me share a secret — look up.

What do you see from down here? Nothing but step after step, with no landings visible at all — just what looks like a straight stairway rising all the way to the sky. That's not an accident. It's a visual effect that Lu Yanzhi calculated with precision. How did he do it? He varied the number of steps and the gradient of each section so that the angle of the stairway face precisely conceals the landings from below. When we reach the top and you turn to look back down, you'll see exactly the opposite: from above, only the broad landings are visible, spread out like level ground — and every single step disappears. This optical illusion — steps from below, platforms from above, never both at once — is the finest stroke of artistry in the entire mausoleum.

Now, about the number 392. What does it represent? Around 1925, China's population was approximately 392 million people. These 392 steps stand for every one of those 392 million compatriots. Sun Yat-sen launched revolution after revolution over the course of his life, failing again and again. What kept him going was the belief that he was fighting for the wellbeing of four hundred million people. Every step on this staircase is saying: every Chinese person is a cornerstone of his cause.

The 339 steps from the Stele Pavilion to the Memorial Hall are divided into 8 sections. 339 was the number of delegates to the two houses of the Nationalist legislature at the time — each delegate represented one step, each step a duty to carry his legacy forward. The 8 sections correspond to the Three Principles of the People and the Five-Power Constitution: 3 plus 5 equals 8. So as you climb these steps, you are literally walking through the entire architecture of Sun Yat-sen's political vision.

Take it slow — no need to rush. Pause on each landing, breathe, and look back at the ground you've covered. On this climb, speed is beside the point. What matters is finding your own pace, your own quiet thoughts, over these ten minutes of ascent — that is what it truly means to visit this mausoleum. Let's go. One step at a time.

(Upon reaching the top)

Congratulations — you're now standing at the highest point of Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum. Turn around and look back down. Do you see it? Nothing but landings — not a single step in sight. That's Lu Yanzhi's genius at work. From up here, the Sacred Way traces a white line from the foot of the mountain to where you stand, a green sea of Purple Mountain stretches out before you, and the skyline of Nanjing rises and fades in the distance.

Before you now is the heart of Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum — the Memorial Hall. It stands at the very top of Middle Mao Peak on Purple Mountain: 28.7 meters tall, 30 meters long, 24.7 meters wide. Take a moment to look at it from the outside. This building holds a significant place in both Chinese and Western architectural history — it is neither purely Chinese nor purely Western, but the crowning achievement of what Lu Yanzhi called the "Chinese traditional revival" style.

The exterior walls are clad in Hong Kong granite, as hard as iron. The roof is a traditional Chinese double-eave hip-and-gable form covered in blue glazed tiles. But Lu Yanzhi made one boldly unconventional move: he straightened the roof's traditional curved ridge lines into clean, sharp angles — injecting the modern architectural preference for straight lines directly into a classical Chinese form. The three arched doors at the front are fitted with purple-bronze latticed double panels. The lintels read, left to right: "Nationalism," "Democracy," "People's Livelihood" — Sun Yat-sen's Three Principles of the People. Nationalism first, then democratic rights for the people, then the material wellbeing of every citizen — three principles, one vision. Above the center door, Sun Yat-sen's own calligraphy reads "Righteousness of Heaven and Earth."

Before we go inside, an important reminder: photography and video recording are strictly prohibited inside the Memorial Hall. Please maintain complete silence. This isn't only about protecting the artifacts — it's a basic form of respect for Sun Yat-sen himself.

(Inside the Memorial Hall)

The moment you walk in, your eyes are drawn to the seated statue at the center — 4.6 meters tall, carved from Italian white marble by the celebrated French sculptor Paul Landowski, a work that took five years to complete. Sun Yat-sen is shown in a traditional Chinese long robe, his expression grave yet composed, his gaze directed forward. When the organizing committee put out a global call for statue designs, fourteen sculptors submitted proposals, and not one was approved. Landowski was ultimately chosen because his Sun Yat-sen carried none of the exaggerated heroic posturing of Western sculpture. Instead, there was a restraint, a quietness about it — he didn't carve a mythologized Sun Yat-sen. He carved a Chinese Sun Yat-sen.

Four bas-relief panels surround the statue, depicting six pivotal moments in Sun Yat-sen's revolutionary life. Look at each one carefully: the first shows him as a young doctor cradling a sick infant in his arms; the second, raising funds among overseas Chinese communities abroad; the third, secretly planning an uprising with Huang Xing and other comrades; the fourth, being inaugurated as Provisional President of the Republic of China; the fifth, leading the campaign against Yuan Shikai's bid to restore imperial rule; the sixth, his final words to colleagues from his deathbed. Together, these six panels tell the complete arc of Sun Yat-sen's life — from healing bodies to healing a nation, from exile overseas to the struggle at home, from birth to death.

Look up at the dome above — finished in mosaic. Then look at the walls: the lower half is clad in black marble inscribed with the complete text of the Outline of National Reconstruction in Sun Yat-sen's own hand. He wrote it in 1924 as the summation of his political thought — the Three Principles of the People, the Five-Power Constitution, equalization of land rights, regulation of capital, and the other core pillars of his vision for a new China. That's the Memorial Hall. Now let's pass through the rear door into our final destination — the Burial Chamber.

We have arrived at the final stop of Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum — the Burial Chamber. It is a hemispherical domed space, 18 meters across and 11 meters high. Please move slowly around the chamber, step softly, and keep your voices down.

At the center lies the recumbent effigy of Sun Yat-sen, carved from white marble by Czech sculptor Kotrbra. He is shown in a Sun Yat-sen suit, hands folded on his chest, his face serene as if in sleep. The folds of his clothing are rendered with such precision that you might reach out and feel the texture of the fabric. But this is stone, and the actual remains are not here. The true burial vault lies approximately 5 meters below this effigy. On June 1, 1929, during the state funeral ceremony, Sun Yat-sen's bronze coffin was lowered into the vault. That was nearly a hundred years ago, and it has never been opened since.

The dome above is inlaid with mosaic. The floor is marble. A stone balustrade encircles the tomb pit, and visitors follow the ring-shaped walkway around it. Notice that the path is a perfect circle centered on the recumbent figure — this is intentional. Every person who enters, no matter which direction they approach from, must walk a full circle around Sun Yat-sen. That act of circling is itself a silent tribute.

I want to say something before we leave. Many visitors take their photographs at the Memorial Hall and turn back — but what makes this mausoleum truly great is precisely this quiet chamber. The 392 steps outside ask you to lift your eyes and look upward. This domed, circular space asks you to lower your head. In that movement — upward and then down — Lu Yanzhi composed the final movement of an architectural symphony. We'll exit through the far door and make our way back down the mountain. Before we descend, I'd like to show you a few of the mausoleum's subsidiary commemorative structures.

Friends, our visit to Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum is drawing to a close. From Xiaojing Ding Square all the way to the Burial Chamber, we haven't just climbed 392 steps — we've walked the full length of Sun Yat-sen's legacy, from "Universal Love" to "All Under Heaven Is for All," from "Nationalism, Democracy, People's Livelihood" to his final resting place. It's a journey written in granite and blue glazed tile.

Let me close with three thoughts on what we've seen today.

First: what you visited is a tomb, and also a monument marking China's passage from imperial rule to republic.

Second: the designer, Lu Yanzhi, used this building to prove something — that Chinese architects could create, with modern technology, architecture that is entirely their own and alive with meaning.

Third: as you walk away from here, carry with you the two characters Sun Yat-sen wrote most often in his life — "Bai'ai," Universal Love. They don't just stand on that archway at the entrance. They belong in the architecture of every person's heart.

Thank you all, and may the rest of your time in Nanjing be wonderful.