There is an old Chinese story, written down in the 7th or 8th century AD, about a man who sets out to meet friends living some distance away. The road is long, and as the sun dips in the sky it becomes clear that he will not reach his destination before darkness falls. By happy chance, the traveller comes upon an inn and decides to stay there. His night proves an eventful one. The man is summoned to help in a local skirmish and ends up participating in a battle, before returning to the inn and grabbing some well-earned rest. When he finally arrives at his destination and meets up with his friends, they upbraid him for being late. Worse still, an account of his adventures is met with disbelief. His friends insist that there is no inn, so they all head to the site together to establish the truth. Sure enough, there is nowhere to stay, just a cemetery. One of the tombs, though, looks disturbed. When the group investigates, they find that the tomb figures within had been decapitated: victims of the battle. During the night, the traveller had lodged with the dead.
This tale emphasises the dual status that tombs held. Not only were they burial places from the perspective of the living, but they were also residences for the dead. Archaeology shows that this tradition of building tombs, which served as homes for the afterlife, can be traced back thousands of years. As a group, these Chinese tombs represent one of the great marvels of the ancient world. Jessica Rawson, Emerita Professor of Chinese Art and Archaeology at Oxford, observes in her new book Life and Afterlife in Ancient China (see ‘Further reading’ box) that appreciating the achievements of ancient civilisations in some regions involves gazing up at their architecture; in China, you look down. There, deep within the earth, the dead were expected to live on in their tombs, accompanied by sumptuous goods that expressed their status and can be used to write their biographies. Collectively, these tombs also tell a bigger story about cultural change among a complex and shifting kaleidoscope of kingdoms and traditions. It is a story that departs in important ways from the accounts written up in ancient histories.
Ancient exceptionalism
A key challenge for understanding the early development of China from a Western perspective is how profoundly it differs from the trajectories and lifestyles familiar from, say, ancient Greece and Rome. ‘When seeking to understand a culture that is so different, I think one does have to pause and try to let your mind get around it’, says Jessica. ‘During the early periods, China was comparatively isolated. The region was separated from Iran and India by the high Tibetan plateau, which meant that all land connections across Eurasia had to come via the steppe to the north. Much was carried east by mobile pastoralists, who introduced various innovations to China, including metallurgy. It was only really from the late Roman period onwards that the oasis route, which we call the Silk Road, opened up. So, it is important to recognise that to a large extent China developed independently.’
In the grip of gold