China´s Forbidden City | Full Documentary

The Forbidden City in the heart of Beijing. Once the residence of the all-powerful emperors of China. Still the greatest palace ever built. Its story begins with one man's vision. His name was Zhu Di. Zhu Di was a despot. He took power in the Middle Kingdom by force. And he savagely suppressed anyone who dared question his godlike claim to dominance. The Forbidden City was the symbol of his absolute power. A secret universe of infinitely repeated rituals. The eunuch Huan An was the principal architect. His master plan was based on laws that were hundreds of years old. He left nothing to chance. Every detail had ritual significance. How could he construct this gigantic palace complex in just three years? Zhu Di's vision of a sacred palace had been made reality. But his life's work carried the seeds of its own destruction. At the end of the 14th century AD, a victorious Chinese army came riding out of the steppes to the north of the empire. It had dealt the Mongols an overwhelming defeat. And expelled the nomadic warriors who had ruled over China for more than a hundred years. The man responsible for freeing China from foreign domination was a brilliant general. Prince Zhu Di, a member of the Ming dynasty, China's new royal family. His great victory has won him both respect and power. Beiping, the north is pacified, is the name he confidently gives his home city. No one could guess that a great palace will soon be built here. That will be the center of a global empire. For fame and honor are not enough for an ambitious soul like Zhu Di. But his residence of Beiping is just a provincial outpost. The Mongols used it as their capital when they ruled over the Middle Kingdom. But it's anything but a city of splendor. And the new capital of the Ming dynasty is almost 2,000 kilometers away. Nanjing, the southern capital, is far from the insecure northern frontiers. This is where Zhu Di's father has established the Ming dynasty. As the emperor's fourth son, Zhu Di has no prospect of ascending to the throne. In Nanjing, they decide the young prince should devote himself to a military career. At the age of nine, he is cast out alone into the forest. Without food or shelter. It's up to him to survive. Zhu Di learns to track animals, set traps. And at the right moment, to strike. It's an education that marks his personality for life. In the loneliness of the mountains, he learns to trust only himself. To press home his advantage with determination and without conscience. He has learned to take his destiny into his own hands. As he approaches the age of 40, Zhu Di has achieved nearly everything his father had set out for him. But Zhu Di wants more. A fortune teller begs to be admitted. His predictions will reinforce ambitions that Zhu Di has kept well concealed. The fortune teller flatters the prince. When they're alone, he makes his prophecy. Your majesty has the aspect and the bearing of a son of heaven. You move like a dragon and you strike like a tiger. There is no doubt you are the true son of heaven. The true ruler over humanity. An attractive prospect and an invitation to high treason. For the throne of heaven is not vacant. The legitimate monarch is now the emperor Jianwen in Nanjing. He alone has the mandate of heaven. That means he can count on the loyalty of his officials. Not only that, Zhu Di's sons are kept as hostages at the emperor's court. But now emperor Jianwen makes a catastrophic mistake. He gives Zhu Di's sons permission to return to their father in Beiping. The gates of his palace are open, he says. They may leave. It's meant as a sign of confidence in the mighty prince. But it's interpreted as weakness. It's the opportunity Zhu Di has been waiting for. In the year 1402, he gathers a million soldiers before the gates of Nanjing. Three years have passed and he has repeatedly defeated the emperor's forces in battle. But he's powerless before the great walls of the capital. Instead of exhausting his forces in a long siege, Zhu Di resorts to bribery. He exploits the greed of corrupt courtiers. The traitors are paid for their trouble. And the gates are opened. The capital has fallen without a fight. Zhu Di's soldiers pillage Nanjing for days on end, breaking into palaces and sacred temples. Countless buildings are burned down to their foundations. The population are defenseless before the marauding hordes. But Zhu Di cannot savor his triumph. The emperor Jianwen has disappeared without trace. Did he die in the smoldering rubble of his palace? Rumor pursues rumor. They say he escaped through a secret passageway. This fear will pursue Zhu Di throughout his life, that Jianwen is alive and will one day take his revenge. On the 17th of July, 1402, Zhu Di is proclaimed emperor of China. But most of Jianwen's officials refuse to acknowledge his authority. Some even refuse to kowtow, the traditional gesture of humility at court. They say the stain of the usurper will be on Zhu Di for a hundred generations. As emperor, Zhu Di has taken the name Yongle, eternal joy. But now he encounters immediate and open opposition. The highest official responsible for preparing imperial edicts provokes uproar at court. He refuses outright to serve the new ruler. His loyalty is due only to the legitimate emperor Jianwen. He alone has the mandate of heaven according to the principles of the ancestors. By seizing the throne, Yongle has breached these eternal principles. But the new emperor knows the principles of the ancestors too. And the crime the official is committing is high treason. The official will admit to only one crime, that he did not advise the legitimate emperor soon enough to destroy the usurper. Yongle condemns the traitor to the cruelest of punishments. He must die the death of a thousand cuts. The official is not the only man who must pay for his principles with his life. Consumed by mistrust of the educated and highly respected civil service, Yongle orders a terrible purge. And it's not just the officials themselves who suffer. Yongle punishes their families too. The victims number in their tens of thousands. This inhumane campaign secures Yongle's place on the throne. But the official's words will pursue him like a curse. For in spite of his military upbringing, Yongle shares the traditional values of the officials. He can find no rest. His conscience plagues him. He won his mandate with violence and with terror. It is undeserved. And he is afraid of the toppled emperor, Jan Wen. What if he is still alive? What if he is planning revenge? Does he still have supporters who will stop at nothing to kill Yongle? Yongle decides to withdraw to his old residence of Beiping. He will call it Beijing, the northern capital. And as a sign of his power, he will build the greatest palace the world has ever seen. The Forbidden City. An image of heaven on earth and an unmistakable political statement. This overwhelming demonstration of architectural might will dispel forever any doubts about the legitimacy of his rule. Yongle wastes no time. Armies of workers start by pulling down the old Mongol palaces in his new capital city of Beijing. The responsibility for the design, planning and execution of this epoch-making project falls to a man named Ruan An. He's an excellent architect and a eunuch. Yongle has broken another taboo by appointing a castrate to such high office. Only a few years before, Yongle's father had banned eunuchs from all government positions and put the empire's administration in the hands of the learned officials. But Yongle doesn't trust the officials. He needs the eunuchs as his loyal administrators. He surrounds himself with a court of castrates, ready to carry out his orders unquestioningly. This has happened before in China. Many emperors exploited the dependency of the eunuchs who were despised outside the palace for the mutilation which deprived them of their manhood. They were principally used as servants and guards of the imperial harem. But Yongle appoints them to positions of power, creating a rivalry with the traditional officials. Yongle encourages systematic spying, mistrust and favoritism. He's playing with fire. The proximity of the eunuchs to the emperor, his heir, the empress and of course the concubines led to political alliances and even conspiracies in which the eunuchs were directly involved. This happened many times in Chinese history. The results are often referred to as eunuch disasters because of the murders and factional infighting that followed. Most eunuchs were prisoners of war, castrated to humiliate them. Castration was a familiar part of Chinese culture. Surgeons were so proficient that only two of every hundred victims died as a result of the operation. Eunuchs couldn't expect any sympathy. You stink like a eunuch was a popular insult. Eunuchs had great difficulty passing water. The only chance of achieving a position of respect in spite of their mutilation was a career at the imperial court. This was the route chosen by Ruan An, a Vietnamese prisoner of war. His appointment as chief architect of the Forbidden City is the chance of a lifetime for Ruan An and an almost impossible challenge. He has access to the top experts in classical Chinese architecture. But his task is not just to build a magnificent palace. It is to create an earthly image of heavenly order. Even today, it takes time to grasp the principles behind Ruan An's master plan. The profoundest beliefs of a centuries-old culture are reflected in every detail of the architect's plan. The whole capital city of Beijing is composed of a series of squares. In the center is the Forbidden City. That is surrounded by the Imperial City. Then comes the city of Beijing. The square-shaped courtyard reflects the Chinese belief that the earth is square and heaven is round. The Imperial Palace was considered to be the center of the earth. It is aligned with the Pole Star, and the Pole Star was considered to be the center of heaven. The Forbidden City consists of the outer court, used for ceremonial and official purposes, and the inner court, where the emperor and his family lived. The three big halls in the outer court are duplicated on a smaller scale in the inner court. While Ruan An struggles with the complex philosophies of Chinese architecture, he must also satisfy the whims of his employer. A historical anecdote tells of the pressure under which he's working. Yongle has ordered four towers to be built along the city walls. He has already rejected several designs. Ruan An's life is hanging by a thread. The emperor has lost patience with the architect. If he cannot provide an acceptable design by the next day, he will be executed. The architect sets to work on new designs. In vain. In those days, Ruan An, like many others, kept a caged cicada. To Chinese ears, they're chirping as a kind of music. But even this fails to lift his spirits. He resigns himself to his fate. He promises the cicada that he will build him a bigger cage, so he will be comfortable when his master is gone. Ruan An notices that the cicada has left marks on the sandy floor of his cage. He uses them as the inspiration for the design of the promised new cage. According to legend, the emperor Yongle personally visits the architect's hut the next morning. Ruan An's fate is sealed. In the long night, he has designed nothing but the cicada's cage. But the emperor compliments the architect on his fine design. He will leave Ruan An's head on its shoulders. It still seems to be of some use. If this story is true, those four-cornered towers of the Forbidden City must be the only structures in which coincidence played any role. In every other respect, the palace complex is symbolism set in stone. Every palace and courtyard contains the figure nine or a multiple of it, for this highest single-digit number is reserved for the emperor. On each roof, nine mythical creatures keep evil spirits at bay. Nine times nine ornaments adorn the palace gates. Nine dragons decorate the wall that separates the outer courtyard from the apartments of the imperial family. The roof of the throne room, the Hall of Supreme Harmony, is supported along its length by nine gigantic columns. And the throne of the son of heaven in the center of the world is guarded by nine dragons. The Forbidden City has 9,999 rooms, they say, for 10,000 rooms are reserved for heaven alone. Today, restorers in the Forbidden City have inherited the works of their forefathers. In the year 2010, the Purple City, as it's known for the color of its walls, will shine with a new splendor. The second dominant color is yellow, the yellow of the carvings and tiles on the roofs. Yellow, too, was reserved for the emperor. No ordinary mortal was allowed to use the color on pain of death. Then, as today, just two manufacturers were granted a license to make the carvings and the roof tiles. Time seems to have stood still here, though machines have made some of the work a little easier. The ornaments on the palace facades are still carved by hand. Even today, artists have to practice for years on simple designs before being allowed to carve an imperial dragon. The formula for the glaze applied to the roof tiles after the first firing is known only to the master of the factory. It's guarded like a state secret, passed on from master to master for generations. The firing temperature that makes the imperial lacquer shine so brightly is, of course, a secret, too. The palaces of the Forbidden City are covered with 150,000 roof tiles. And yet historical sources say that the entire complex was completed in only three years, between 1417 and 1420. It was made possible by the fact that behind the complex numerological symbolism, the actual construction of the buildings could hardly be simpler. The Forbidden City could be built in only three years because a very simple method was used. And this method has been used in China since ancient times. On a stone base, wooden columns are erected on which the roof is laid. And the roof and the columns are connected by a wooden support, which is called a dogong. All these components are stacked together without a single nail. All these parts are manufactured before building begins. And on the site, all these components just have to be put in place one after the other. All weight-bearing elements of the palaces are made of cedar wood, which is easy to transport and to work, but also very strong. The columns can support far heavier loads than steel and have endured the seasonal changes between heat and cold for centuries without distortion. Ruan An did not invent this refabricated building system. This process was already used in China in the first millennium before Christ. It's recorded in old writings. The brilliantly simple construction technique isn't the only reason all the buildings were completed so fast. Ruan An's superb organization also played a role. Even before any scaffolding was erected, all the building materials were gathered on gigantic lots and pre-finished according to precise standards. For 13 years, an endless stream of the highest quality materials flowed into the capital city from every corner of the empire. The marble for the foundations came from quarries about 100 kilometers from Beijing. The cedar and other hardwoods came from the mountains of the southern provinces. They were floated down to the coast and transported from there to the Grand Canal that linked the Yangtze River to the capital. Parts of this canal had already existed for 2,400 years, and in the 12th century, it was extended to reach Beijing. At 1,800 kilometers, it's the longest man-made waterway in the world. At first, the canal was used to supply the capital with rice, which wouldn't grow in the harsh northern climate. But now, on the emperor's orders, every ship sailing to the capital must carry an extra load of bricks destined for the forbidden city. Historians believe that more than 2 million tons of bricks took the canal route to Beijing. Five layers of bricks were laid on the squares of the forbidden city alone. A hundred thousand men, mostly convicts, labored from sunrise to sunset on this gigantic building site. At night, they were locked in cans, heavy wooden collars, to stop them escaping. The collars only came off when they were working. The work continues apace. Luan An is more than satisfied with the progress. Thousands of stonemasons and plasterers begin decorating the marble terraces. Artists cover the beams of the palace roofs with gold leaf. But Luan An faces one further challenge. In the middle of the stone steps that one day the emperor and only the emperor shall ascend, there is still a great hole. Today, it's filled by a giant sculpted marble slab. How do you transport 300 tons of marble to the forbidden city? The quarry is 80 kilometers from Beijing. In winter, when icy winds from the northern steps sweep through the gorges, the temperature can drop to minus 20 degrees centigrade. This merciless cold torturing the thousands of laborers in the quarries is a godsend to Luan An. He has hundreds of wells dug at regular intervals along the route. Their water is poured over the frozen earth. And the colossus of marble can slide down an 80-kilometer skating rink from the mountains to the capital, Beijing. An official requests an audience with the emperor. 20 years have passed since Yongle first ordered the construction of the forbidden city. 20 years in which thousands of people have been sacrificed to his vision and the resources of the empire have been plundered. A number of officials have composed a memorandum detailing the enormous strain on the treasury. Li Ximian is its principal author. Yongle is dependent on the support of his scholars and officials. The son of heaven has learned of their concerns for the well-being of their emperor and of the empire. He knows Li Ximian is a loyal and dedicated servant and he orders the official to speak openly and without fear. Li Ximian takes the emperor at his word. He reveals his deepest concerns. For almost his entire reign, Emperor Yongle has been solely occupied with the construction of the forbidden city. Incalculable sums have been spent. Hundreds of thousands of farmers have been forced from their land to work on the construction site day and night. In many provinces, people are starving, eating tree bark and grass or selling their wives and children to survive. The emperor is provoking the anger of heaven. Li Ximian entreats him to return to the former capital city of Nanjing and beg forgiveness at his father's grave. It is the only way to avert disaster. Otherwise, the emperor's great works will not endure. Is it politics or superstition that makes Emperor Yongle lock up Li Ximian in the dungeons of the forbidden city? His official has prophesied disaster, the judgment of heaven, Yongle's greatest fear. For an emperor has to answer to nothing and no one but heaven itself. Every year at the altar of the temple of heaven, he prays for rich harvests and that China be spared floods and tempests. The Chinese believe that natural disasters are a heavenly signal that the emperor has upset the harmony of the universe. But Yongle is convinced that the completion of the forbidden city has finally legitimized his rule and has guaranteed the mandate of heaven for the Ming dynasty for eternity. At the temple of heaven, the emperor makes an offering of incense. This is the only time in the year that his knees touch the ground. Like the pole star immovable in the heavens, Yongle is now enthroned at the center of the world. And this can be seen in coded form in the forbidden city itself. If we raise the center point of the north-south axis along which the most important buildings are aligned, we can see that the sequence of buildings does indeed follow a strict hierarchy. The closer the buildings are to the center of the north-south axis, the nearer they are to heaven. At the most southerly point is the gate of heavenly peace, the entrance to the imperial city. The center of the three principal halls, the hall of perfect harmony, is closest to heaven. Its ground plan forms a perfect square. It is the center of the world, the place where heaven and earth meet. The eunuchs of the night watch strike the hour. It is three o'clock, two hours before sunrise. Officials and eunuchs take up their positions in front of the hall of supreme harmony. Each has his place according to rank. In spite of all the activity, absolute silence reigns throughout the square. Conversations or other signs of disrespect are punishable by imprisonment. For hours, the imperial court awaits the sun of heaven. The emperor's day begins just before sunrise with a never-changing ritual. Long live the emperor! Governing a state without ritual is like plowing without a plowshare, they say. For the forbidden city is the architectural expression of cosmic harmony. The constant repetition of unchanging ritual permits this cosmic order to be maintained. But Yongle is consumed by a single thought. Is Jianwen, his predecessor, still alive? In the forbidden city, surrounded by a court of devoted eunuchs, he can feel safe. Tasters check that his daily breakfast of boiled swallows' nests is not poisoned. The same goes for his midday and evening meals. In each case, exactly 99 dishes are presented to the emperor for his choice. Jianwen never does return to tear off Yongle's dragon robe and avenge himself. The fate of the deposed emperor will never be known. It is the year 1421. Yongle's star is shining brighter than ever. He is at the peak of his power after more than 20 years on the throne. All this time, he's been working to erase the stain made by his violent takeover. Through a strict application of the traditional rules and rituals, he has tried to win back the support of his officials after executing thousands of them at the beginning of his reign. At the vast audiences in the forbidden city, no one now refuses to kowtow before him as they did at his coronation in Nanjing. Yongle commissions a gigantic literary work containing the accumulated knowledge of more than a thousand years of Chinese history. Yongle himself writes the foreword. In order to rule the world, our wise forefathers created civilization based on ritual, moral values, and education. The military tyrant has become an intellectual despot. When Ruan'an can finally stretch his aching limbs after hours on his knees, perhaps he recalls the words of Confucius. Rulers and the ruled are like wind and grass. The grass must bend when the wind blows. But can this gigantic work, weighed down with symbolism, with actors endlessly repeating the same performance, really be made for eternity? For the world beyond the limits of this closed universe has not stopped turning. The Ming dynasty had a decisive political weakness. The founding emperor and his successor, Yongle, increasingly treated dynastic problems as though they were family problems that no longer needed to be discussed at court. And this, of course, meant that the autocratic tendencies of the rulers were exaggerated. So that the well-being of the dynasty and its very fate depended more and more on the individual political competence of the emperor. In Yongle's own time, the first structural defects of the system became apparent. Poverty spread throughout the country. To escape it, one had to be able to afford the education necessary to become an official. Or one became a eunuch. Farmers who couldn't feed their families castrated their sons and sent them to the capital, where they might find a position in the palace. The world outside the purple walls is threatened with chaos. Although self-mutilation is a punishable offense, and the intake of eunuchs into palace service is strictly regulated, the imperial court is forced to open its doors to remain in control of the situation. In Yongle's time, 3,000 eunuchs live permanently in the Forbidden City. At first, 100 are admitted every year, after an embarrassing procedure designed to check that no potent individuals slip into the army of castrates. Over the years, the flood of eunuchs into the Forbidden City reaches astonishing proportions. 200 years later, at the beginning of the 17th century, there are 70,000 eunuchs in the halls and squares of the Forbidden City. These mutilated and despised men become a significant element of power, for only imperial service offers the prospect of influence and wealth. Some of them, like Ruan An, have skills that let them contribute to the well-being and glory of the empire. But mostly they paralyze the empire's center of power with their plots and attempts to feather their own nests, until nothing can be done. Yongle's work was not, after all, built for eternity. Forgotten in his prison cell, the official Li Ximian hopes he may soon be released. Perhaps he was mistaken in his warnings. But hardly is the Forbidden City completed, and his somber prophecy comes true. When the first lightning bolts strike, it really does seem as though heaven has withdrawn its mandate from Yongle, just as the official had predicted. The storm of that summer night finds the Forbidden City's weak point. Its splendid roofs are supported by wooden beams. The great work of architect Ruan An cannot withstand the fury of heaven. The three principal halls, the center of the world, fall victim to the flames. Yongle stands before the ruin of his life's work. The Ming dynasty will survive. Thirteen more Ming emperors will sit on the dragon throne. But the fire is an omen of the fate that will eventually befall the empire. Frozen in splendor and ritual, paralyzed by intrigues and betrayal, the dynasty falls. The Chinese people groan under the burden of taxation, and yet the imperial coffers are empty. As the rebellious population crowd round the walls of the Forbidden City, the last Ming emperor chooses to commit suicide on the Coal Hill, overlooking the roofs of the imperial city. He hangs himself by his silken sash as he watches his capital burn. Just one of the 70,000 eunuchs stays at his emperor's side and accompanies him on his last journey. But the Forbidden City will survive the downfall of the Ming dynasty. The Manchu, a powerful tribe from the steppes, will soon take over the Middle Kingdom. With new rulers on the dragon throne, the Chinese empire will survive until 1911. And with it, this unique edifice. The Forbidden City.