crush of sightseers, once we were through the first gate, the Forbidden City revealed its magnificence. Before us stood the imposing Meridian Gate, an enormous red wall of brick upon which stood a palace with a golden roof. It was here, upon its ramparts, that the emperors of the Ming and Qing Dynasties had ordered the decapitations of prisoners of war.
“It’s easy to imagine, isn’t it?” Dan observed. “Off with their heads!”
It was, in fact, easy to imagine. Perhaps it was the towering walls. They are the color of blood. There were three central arches and we passed through the middle one, where once only emperors could walk. Beyond was an enormous courtyard, which was known as the Outer Court, where the Emperor had conducted his ceremonial functions. The purpose of the Outer Court was to intimidate, to banish any doubts that the emperor was indeed the Son of Heaven. Surely, back in the day, one could but conclude that only the divine could live in a place so vast and magnificent. Inside the walls, there were dozens of palaces and hallways, and the names alone of each towering edifice left me captivated. There to our left was the Hall of Military Prowess, which stood directly across from the Literary Glory Hall. Before us stood the spectacular Hall of Supreme Harmony, beyond which lay the riveting Hall of Preserving Harmony, which could be reached by passing through the Hall of Middle Harmony, which makes sense when you think about it. But it doesn’t just stop there. There is a hall devoted to Mental Cultivation, something every home should have. There is an Earthly Tranquility Palace and a Palace of Heavenly Purity, which should not be confused with the Eternal Spring Palace or the Western Palace. Should you need to step out, you’ll pass through the Divine Military Genius Gate.
There are some 9,000 rooms in the Forbidden City, which makes you wonder who could possibly need 9,000 rooms in a place where, technically speaking, most people were forbidden from entering. And who would build such a palace in the first place?
I had read the book 1421—The Year China Discovered the World by Gavin Menzies and become intrigued by his perspective on the era. Menzies, of course, had made the provocative claim that in all likelihood it was the Chinese who were the first foreigners to stumble upon the New World. Most scholars dispute this, but there’s no arguing that, at the time, China was a power to be reckoned with.
In the early fifteenth century, when Imperial China was near its apex, the country was ruled by one of the more extraordinary emperors to ever put his derriere on the throne inside the Hall of Preserving Harmony. Indeed, Emperor Zhu Di was the very Son of Heaven who originally built the Forbidden City. The fourth son of the first Ming emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, Zhu Di was not chosen for succession upon the death of his father. This was not good for Zhu Di. As was the custom, the new emperor, Zhu Di’s nephew, set about killing possible rivals to his succession. Zhu Di promptly gave up the good life of being part of the imperial household in Nanjing (then the imperial capital) and escaped to Beijing, where he became a homeless vagrant. Apparently, he must have been a very charismatic drifter, for he was soon able to raise an army that he marched down to Nanjing, where he was enthusiastically greeted by the city’s eunuchs.
Eunuchs! And you wonder where Chinese cinema comes from. Within the Imperial Court, it was typically the eunuchs who controlled the levers of power. This is because, severed from their manhood, they could be trusted to wander among the hundreds of comely concubines that resided with the emperor. The new emperor, however, had fallen under the sway of the mandarins, the well-educated bureaucrats who managed the empire’s day-to-day affairs. This did not please the eunuchs. They’d been castrated, after all, and while being able to hit the high notes in the imperial karaoke bar had its