A Moveable Beast Cornered in Paris: The Forbidden City, Heart of the Ancient Capitol

Just trying to get in the Forbidden City

What we didn't know was that each night the Chinese evening news warned people to keep away from both Tian'men Square and the Forbidden City, for the crowds of patriotic Chinese provincials were overwhelming Beijing. We didn't watch the news, nor could we understand Chinese, and so the next day we headed for the Forbidden City.

It is the center of the ancient capitol, the Emperor's enormous home that could contain two Kremlins or ten Versailles. It is a walled city of palaces, alleyways, monumental steps and temples. It was said that heaven's city contained 10,000 rooms, therefore the Forbidden City contained 9,999 1/2, and that in 1974 as China opened to the world, 8,704 rooms were found. (None of the interiors were open to us visitors.) The other imperial remnants of Beijing are arranged in Taoist order around this nucleus, mainly on a North/South axis, according to the principles of Feng Shui and the I Ching. It is called forbidden because if a commoner entered the realm, up until the 1911 revolution, he would be executed. The palaces atop their formidable marble stairs are named and intended for ritual purposes in a complex system of meanings, but few emperors followed them, for few had the good of their realms at heart. The precise and arcane labyrinths of rules and protocols permeating the Forbidden City are truly the marks of deeply complex minds with staggering obsessive compulsions.

As for getting there, having encountered the obstacles created by taxi drivers, we decided to try the subway. A half hour walk on dusty roads past walled off construction sites of rubble, the station was an immaculate high-tech realm whose staff in formal uniforms scolded the few Chinese passengers mercilessly. After passing through metal detectors--we had been through many the previous day, and would come to understand that they permeate China--we embarked on a journey of 1 1/2 hours to arrive at a metro station that remained open during the holiday, far from our destination. This enabled us to wander through narrow alleyways and streets of low gray brick buildings that had become art shops, selling work, brushes, antiques. It was a human-sized sliver of this vast, crushing city, peopled with cheerful inhabitants who offered to direct us through the maze. A man walked his large cat on a leash, and as the cat took off after a frightened little dog, he caught my eye and shared my laughter.

We were within 500 meters of Tiananmen Square when we were again crushed by engulfing humanity from the countryside, children held by their mothers over modern trash recycle bins to pee, proud, odd-shaped families photographing each other against the massive monuments. We were not so much walking down the street as being shoved, pulled, pushed, just trying to keep track of each other. We passed the boy soldiers who, as they move from place to place, goosestep in a wiggling fashion, and then arriving at their posts become rigid, heads swiveling slowly. Garbage cans, including recycling bins that are thoroughly ignored, keep much of the litter off the street, but the underground passageways are strewn with garbage. Nearing the Forbidden City the crowds never relent. Perhaps that is why the GPS audioguide that take you through the Forbidden City and other monuments never relent either, but force your pace.

200 ton dragon carving

The Forbidden City dates back to the 15th century, the Ming dynasty's imprint. Its massive distant palaces become more cottage-like as you penetrate the enormous complex, until in the Empress Cixi's quarters they have a banal 19th c Western look. But in general the architecture is uniform and hierarchical, the bestiary on the roof indicating the rank of the buildings that were built for exalted moral functions that few emperors lived up to. They did keep up appearances with their collections of huge numbers of concubines. The Qing Dynasty's Empress Cixi (1835-1908) was a concubine who quickly grasped the play of power within the Forbidden City and turned it to her advantage, eliminating rivals and keeping her offspring on the throne while she ruled literally from behind the yellow curtain. Her brutal self-indulgence cost China political and military advantage (she used the Navy's funds for her lotus gardens) and she was forced off the scene just as China tumbled, but not before she left behind plentiful palaces for her amusement.

Cixi, Concubine turned Empress

The tranquil garden

We were dwarfed by the immensity of the scale, the recitation of dimensions and building materials, the ritualistic names and functions of the huge buildings which we could not enter, and which are probably by now empty. Jacques observed, "We think we are so special, but we are nothing." Exactly. We learn Confucian virtue of humility by visiting China, and wonder at the same time: will humanity be crushed by soulless technology or the onslaught of the infinite Chinese? Little children from the countryside stare at me and burst out laughing, as their fathers try to hush them. Their mothers stare with open hostility. Three young girls, arm in arm, take one look at Jacques and explode with laughter. In the rarefied art shop a book called Who Runs the World? has photographs of Bush and the Statue of Liberty with a machine gun.

I had not eaten all day and the only provisions we would find, time and time again, were snacks in the form of sausages, pickled chickens' feet or meat patties. Finally I found a watery soup and a strawberry drink.

We sought relief in the palace gardens, but they were equally crammed with people and we were hard pressed to find the rock or tree that our GPS guide was talking about. Chinese gardens prize intricate, indirect pathways, rocks contracted and warped by time, water and wind, and ancient trees. One such old juniper in the garden was said to have followed Emperor Qianlong (reigned 1736-1795) on his tours of the lower Yangtze to provide him with shade and shelter, thus considered a heavenly tree which he dubbed the "Marquis of Shade." His son wrote

The ancient juniper casts a cool shade

A heart keeps on mourning.

Great is the beneficence of the late emperor

His Majesty's kindness lass millions of years.

Finally we left the Forbidden City past placid canals that had once serviced the palace kitchens, pushed along by the crowd. I was aching with exhaustion and cold. There were beautiful little carvings being sold by rustic characters along the sidewalk, but all was in Chinese characters. As we were pushed along I tried to buy a roasted corn cob, even as a nearly violent fight erupted between a policeman and the vendor. A woman had stretched out on a pallet along the road, displaying horribly injured feet. She was among the many taking up their work stations along the tourist road.

We walked and walked, along huge, posh avenues with gigantic hotels, a sign beckoning us on for miles toward the subway. But at a mall where officials with red arm bands hailed taxis, we were finally able to get one. It even had a meter. One of the day's happy surprises. And we sailed home to the resident dog who squealed with delight, and the beautifully clear spaces of the expat, polished wood and immaculate sofas.