Brass Seal Paste Box 銅印泥盒 (tóng yìn ní hé)

What can we say about the form, material, and inscription style?

The golden tone and slight oxidation strongly suggest brass (copper-zinc alloy). Brass was widely used in the late Qing dynasty (19th century) through the early Republic era (early 20th century) for durable decorative items.

The initial view was that small oval boxes with snug-fitting lids, were typical for:

• • 鼻煙壺 (bí yān hú) — snuff, or

  • 印泥盒 (yìn ní hé) — seal paste, used to store the red ink paste for personal seals.

Given the inscription, the more likely use was for seal paste. We will see later this was incorrect.

But first let us follow our logic for a red seal paste box.

Given the high cultural and literary tone of the inscription (friendship, blessings, dedication), a seal paste box was more likely, rather than a snuff container. Snuffboxes often bore decorative scenes or foreign motifs, whereas (in our case) seal paste boxes frequently featured poetic inscriptions, blessings, or dedications.

We will first look at what was implied with this attribution (even if later considered false).

Red seal paste (印泥, yìnní) is one of the most iconic tools in the Chinese culture of the “scholar-official class”. Its story stretches back nearly 2,000 years. Chinese seals (chops) consist of deeply incised characters carved into stone, ivory, or metal. Ordinary black ink (like that used for calligraphy) was too thin and watery, so it would run and blur. But a paste is thick, sticky, and dense, allowing the carved characters to make a crisp, sharp impression. The paste clings to the raised areas of the seal face evenly, and when the seal is pressed to paper or silk, the result is precise and uniform, almost like a fine print.

In China a seal was a persons identity and their mark of authority. From at least the Han dynasty (206 BCE – 220 CE) onward a personal seal 印章 (yìnzhāng) carried the legal force of a handwritten signature or a ruler’s decree. Seals bore the name, title, or office of their owner, carved in reverse characters. They were required for official documents (e.g. tax receipts, land deeds, contracts, etc.), artistic authentication (e.g. validating a painting, poem, or literary work), and for letters and correspondence to prove authorship.

So whoever controlled the seal controlled the identity and authority of that person or office. This is why dynastic histories often record dramatic stories of imperial seals being hidden, stolen, or destroyed during political upheavals.

Whist a box of seal paste could make a nice gift, giving a seal meant handing over power and authority. Given a seal would be accompanied by formal ceremonies and documents, e.g. passing a family business to the next generation, or appointing someone to an official post. It could also be symbolic with a master handing a seal to a disciple in art or calligraphy as a symbol of transmission.

To give someone a personal seal outside these contexts would risk fraud or loss of face.

It interesting in that a seal impression is not just a signature. In many ways it’s more permanent and final. A brush or written signature can vary depending upon mood, speed, or even slight hesitation. Whereas a seal impression is mechanically consistent, like a printed mark, it has a more unchanging, timeless quality. It’s an expression of enduring authority.

But to be that permanent expression of authority the seal must “dry”, i.e. meaning fixed in place, much like ink drying on a document.

The paste consisted of cinnabar (朱砂, zhūshā) or powdered mercuric sulphide. A pigment giving a brilliant red colour. It would be mixed with a binder and moisture-retaining natural oil (castor, sesame, or tung oil). In the seal paste box it would be set on a fibrous material (silk, mugwort, cotton).

The little seal paste box would need to have a tightly fitting lid to ensure that the paste had a texture like firm dense butter, e.g. thick enough to sit on the raised characters of a seal without dripping.

Once applied the cinnabar itself never evaporates, however the oil component does slowly dry. Initially the paste sits bright, wet, slightly raised on the paper or silk. It is highly vulnerable to smudging. After some hours the oil begins to absorb into the fibres, the colour darkens slightly, but it still remain delicate. After between one and three days the impression becomes flat, bonded to the paper or silk, and impossible to alter without visible damage. In humid southern China, drying could take three or more days. Whereas in arid northern climates, overnight drying might be enough.

Until the seal dried fully a dishonest party could smudge, lift, or even replace the seal impression. Also the contract or decree could be challenged as invalid, because the mark was still unstable.

Thus, in serious agreements, both sides remained present, or at least their trusted representatives, until the seal’s appearance was clearly stable.

Documents were often left undisturbed under weight (like flat stones or wooden boards) to protect the wet seal. Officials kept them under watch, similar to how wet wax seals on letters were protected in Europe.

Imperial edicts were stamped in the palace, then carried in protective cases. Messengers guarded them day and night until delivery, ensuring no tampering before they dried. With land deeds or contracts both parties might stay together for a sealing ceremony, then reconvene after several days to confirm the mark was intact. Witnesses signed off only once the seal was dry, making fraud easier to detect.

There is a nice expression “The emperor’s decree is not yet settled — it breathes while wet, it commands when dry”.