CONCLUSION

Over the last five decades, an enormous amount of archaeological material dating to the Han dynasty has been unearthed throughout China and neighboring territories associated — through trade or colonial rule — with the Han. By its sheer volume and variety, this data has allowed glimpses into Han culture that could not be imagined from the perspective of the dynastic histories or other received texts, whose concerns generally center on important personnages and models of social behavior. At the same time, the volume of archaeological data has itself made interpretation difficult. We have tended to look either regionally, such as at the cliff tombs of Sichuan or the stone carvings of Jiaxiang (Shandong), or by social class, such as in the structure or contents of princely tombs. When I began my research, the conflicting conclusions I found in archaeological reports, particularly regarding the dating of Han artefacts, led me to identify the need for a single chronological framework that could explain available data regardless of geographic or social origin. Such a framework needed to be as objective as possible, eliminating or allowing explanation of conflicting data, and to allow incorporation of additional data as it became available. Clearly, creation of this framework had to depend on the basic archaeological theorem that, in the absence of indications to the contrary, identical objects may be assumed contemporaneous. Once dated, these may in turn provide cross-dating to artefacts associated with them. The problem, however, lies in the identification of appropriate objects and, for Han China, the viability of the associated positive dates: What is the positive date and what does it imply? And what, in the premodern, preindustrial age, may be considered “identical”? Each of these questions is complex and can only be answered subjectively. In order to clarify the impact each assumption has on the resulting framework — and hence, on analysis — I have tried to provide as much transparency of data and interpretation as possible.

Through trial and error, I found that only vessels of hu, guan, and ding types offered the consistency and clarity required. Thus, the chronological framework came to be constructed of a selection of these. In addition to enabling further analysis, the framework itself yields substantial information. Through the details of vessel type, distribution, development, and equally narrow questions immediately tied to the pieces dated within the framework, three areas are of particular concern to me here: the interaction of different regions within Han China, the influence of the preimperial past on the material culture of the Han, and Han interaction with the foreign. Examination of these larger questions reveals a fluid, continuous dialogue within Han culture, the resolution of which yields something at once related to the Chinese past and, significantly, new and creative. Han archaeological material, perhaps because of the uniformity that can be seen within many areas of data, is generally interpreted as emerging from the political reorganization of the late Bronze Age in largely linear fashion: bronze vessels establish the principle vessel forms and applied decorative patterns; tomb structure follows from the compartmented box with increasing incorporation of architectonic features to the embodiment of domestic architecture for the dead; and tomb decor progresses toward a standardized iconography. When placed in a viable chronological context, however, Han material loses that veneer of linear development and emerges as a complex creation that responds to imperatives we cannot identify.

For the Han, we have a number of positively dated sites and, particularly, date-inscribed objects. The implications of these vary widely, and dates can only rarely be interpreted at face value. Tombs that include inscriptions noting unambiguously the date of death and burial or of tomb construction (that is, dates utilizing era names that are clearly attached to the tomb in which they are found) are generally straightforward. However, dates may be written in terms of local, rather than central, governments or be recorded according to references in use before era names were adopted by Wudi. In these cases, the date itself poses problems of interpretation. Even when they specify the date of death or burial, dates which are found on manuscripts or other objects within the tomb, rather than integrated into the building materials of the tomb itself, may pose problems if there is no corroborating identification of the deceased. As in the case of Nancaizhuang (Yanshi, Luoyang Municipality, Henan) M3, memorials could conceivably have been included in the tombs of descendants or other individuals and would therefore not apply to the tomb in which they are found. We cannot tell if Fei Zhi, died AD 169, was indeed among the multiple, fragmented bodies found in Nancaizhuang M3. In any case, identification of the deceased by means other than in situ inscriptions of any kind is always problematic: the dynastic histories cannot provide an exhaustive listing of dignitaries and, in any case, are of help only in the case of the most prominent men: names are repeated, and local legend, no matter how old, is only hearsay.

Once the interpretation of a positive date applying directly to a tomb has been settled, use of the tomb itself for the purposes of dating has proven unreliable. This becomes clear when the dates derived from structural comparisons are contrasted with those developed from the chronology of vessels presented here. The resulting conflicts can only be resolved through the use of vessels as the means of dating. It thus becomes clear that tomb structure did not progress in linear fashion from the preimperial box form to the typically Han architectonic structure, whether uni - or multi-cameral. Indeed, despite a trend in preimperial burials to recreate within the tomb various aspects of living space, such as through the inclusion of windows, doors, and roofs within the burial structure, I find no precedent in burial structures or living architecture for the most salient features of the Han architectonic tomb: the use of vaulting and domes, although some barrel vaulting occurs in pre-Han kilns. These structural elements appear to have been adopted for the tomb alone through intercultural contact with India or cultures farther west such as those of the Near East, Afghanistan, and Rome, whose architecture made common use of them. Because they were not adopted for public buildings in China, the Han did not need to solve technical problems of scale, but could produce the relatively small spans suited to tombs. In this way, the Han tomb creates the approximation of a living space incorporating a form not otherwise used. From its selective adoption, I assume that the Han must have associated some religious meaning with vaulting, with implications we cannot yet understand. It is not clear when vaulting was introduced into China, nor that use of the dome necessarily came later. Thus, at present, neither feature can serve as even a broad chronological indicator.

Just as structure fails to provide chronology, so too does another distinctive feature of Han tombs: the mural. Where the tomb in question is adequately dated, as at +Hanwang (Tongshan, Xuzhou Municipality, Jiangsu; AD 86), it is tempting to use this decor as a chronological guide. The reuse of blocks of decor, as at Feicheng (Shandong) and Songshan Jiaxiang, Shandong) M3, would not, in itself, prevent chronological analysis. However, comparison of the decors, again from the standpoint of the vessel chronology presented here, demonstrates that not only the same subject matter and often general composition but even the same style of execution may occur in tombs of significantly different dates, as at the shrine of Wu Liang Jiaxiang, Shandong), AD 151, and Balimiao (Yanggu, Shandong) Mi, circa AD 174. Thus, even locally, tomb decor does not prove reliable for narrow dating. Further, a significant fund of decorative elements basic to Han iconography does indeed stem from Chinese Bronze Age tradition, but this itself resulted from foreign influence, to which the Han continually incorporated additional foreign exchange. However, neither the initial dates nor the precise means by which these exchanges occurred can now be retraced, thus precluding use of iconographic elements even in broad terminus post quem dating. Their significance lies instead in what they indicate about the nature of Han culture as a whole: as with tomb structure, the artisans who created the new vocabularies certainly emerged from Bronze Age Chinese tradition and made use of it, but in the most striking areas of new development, found what they needed in foreign cultures from the Classical West through South and Central Asia.

Despite the necessity of using objects as the primary means of establishing date, the unambiguously dated object itself presents unexpected complications. Attempting to create a narrow chronology through any positively dated object without further discrimination rapidly creates contradictions in dating which in turn can only be resolved by recognizing that not all objects changed form at the same speed. This would seem obvious, except that it affects not only broad classes of objects — such as weapons and tools where we would not expect rapid change unless there were an underlying change in function or because of some technical advance, and ornaments, whose forms and decors prove to be surprisingly long-lived — but even a number of vessel types, including basins, bowls, ladles, zun (for heating alcohol), yan double-boilers, and so on. Even within the broad classes of hu, guan, and ding — which I have adopted here as generally providing reliable data — some forms, most conspicuously the egg or cocoon hu and the garlic-topped hu, remained in production essentially unchanged for so long a period that they cannot provide a narrow date. We are left, therefore, with a typology consisting of a selection of hu, guan, and ding, at present numbering 545 vessel forms, which provides the dating for approximately one thousand tombs. This typology may be expanded indefinitely, using the same principles of positive and cross-dating, or amended as needed in light of future discoveries. By its nature, it emphasizes commonality, rather than exceptionalism or regionalism. Although different regions of Han China are necessarily represented to differing degrees because of the availability or usability of data, the resulting typology is national, rather than regional, and depends on material from all strata of society, as long as some datable material was included in burial.

For cross-dating to succeed, the positive date must be found in a closed context. This has led me to focus on burials rather than the emerging data from habitation and other sites. It becomes evident, however, that the tomb is not always, in fact, fully closed. Shaogou (Luoyang Municipality, Henan) Mi037 provides indication of reburial, meaning that opportunity existed to introduce a new set of goods into the tomb.

Subsequent burial of a spouse or other family members, even in box tombs, as at Bicun (Hunyuan, Shanxi) Mi and Dongyang (Xuyi, Jiangsu) M7, created a similar opportunity. In these cases, it may eventually be possible to isolate two separate dates for associated material. At present, however, that degree of distinction has not been possible and one date is generally assumed to prevail for the entire tomb.

Use of vessels from tombs does not limit the typology to the dating of burials. Indeed, it would appear that much of the material placed within the tomb was not made for burial in imitation of items used by the living (mingqi), although such certainly occurred, but instead constituted objects of daily life buried as needed. This is particularly evident in the case of manuscripts, where the division between living and dead is clear from the standpoint of production: we have, on the one hand, the intellectual library of Mawangdui (Changsha Municipality, Hunan) M3 and the career notes of the deceased of Shuihudi (Yunmeng, Hubei) +M11 and, on the other, letters of introduction to the underworld hierarchy in Huchang (Hanjiang, Yangzhou Municipality, Jiangsu) +M5 and deeds of land in the tomb of +Liu Yuantai (Ganquanshan [Yangzhou Municipality, Jiangsu]). The land deeds, however, appear to refer to real land utilized for burial. Their declaration was obviously significant to both the living and the dead. As in its structure, the tomb thus blends the real (utilized in life) and the representational (for the purposes of the afterlife alone). In the same way, vessels in tombs may at times include mingqi, but there seems no reason not to accept most ware as having been produced for the living. Inscriptions provide some evidence of living use, as in the identification of previous owners or of purchase by various household departments whose active use of the piece is likely, as in the Physician’s basin Mi:5i76 from Mancheng (Hebei)1 and the Liang Family of Mali ding, Mancheng Mi:4ioi.2 The designation of mingqi stems most commonly from the size of some pieces, where small items deemed miniaturizations are assumed to represent their standard-sized counterparts, as in Songzui (Fangxian, Hubei) M39:8 (guan i8).3 Although smaller than the other guan i8, the Songzui example, with a height of ii centimeters, is not so much smaller than Shuihudi (Yunmeng, Hubei) M24:3,4 at i7 centimeters, i3.5 centimeters at the mouth, or Yunxian (Hubei) M304:i,5 At i5 centimeters, i2.8 centimeters at the mouth, as to warrant designation as a miniaturization. Indeed, as long as the vessel remains functional, its size need not indicate simulacre. Furthermore, surface treatment with materials recognized today as toxic is highly unlikely to have played any part in determining the function of vessels.6 Thus, the use of lacquer on cookware or lead-based glazes in general does not serve to identify a piece as mingqi. Comparison of forms from tombs to those from habitation sites, in particular, should provide greater clarity. Certainly, the Han did not make as complete a distinction between the worlds of the living and the dead as we do today.

Analysis of the vessels in the typology and the associated tombs reveals no particular regional continuity with preimperial China and no area where the material culture of imperial Qin seems to have produced a particularly marked degree of continuity within Han culture. We often suppose that imperial Qin vessel forms, not all of which occur during the Han, recur during the first phase of the new dynasty to be replaced as the Han gathered momentum. Instead, these shapes, together with those of Chu, may be seen to have exercised a marked influence on Han vessel form throughout the dynasty. The continued presence of original preimperial bronzes throughout the Han in graves of widely ranging social status attests to the availability of earlier work as potential models for potters and other vessel craftsmen. Nonetheless, although imitations of early bronzes were made, still in bronze, as luxury objects — as occasionally seen at Mancheng (Hebei) +Mi and the tomb of the +King of Nanyue (Xianggangshan [Guangzhou Municipality, Guangdong]) — such direct copying was rare. The greatest influence of the preimperial bronze was instead in the reinterpretation of their formal tendencies, such as the shape of the vessel body. In this context, Han artisans utilized past forms in the production of new vessel shapes, perpetuating and transforming the earlier aesthetic. In the process, we witness the collection of early bronzes by individuals who could not have intended to use them to establish sociopolitical legitimation, in addition to those for whom the bronzes still retained some of their Bronze Age authority — as, undoubtedly, in the collections of the Western Han King of Nanyue or indeed of the masters of Mancheng (Hebei), the latter as imperial relatives who at times received gifts such as the M2 Changxin Palace lamp from imperial relatives in Chang’an. The appearance of early bronzes in modest tombs such as Hejiayuan (Wuhu Municipality, Anhui) Mi and Sanlidun (Lianshui, Jiangsu) suggests that these vessels continued to be recognized as valuable, but clearly that value was not restricted by class.7 This last point indicates that the Bronze Age, while still readily visible during the Han, no longer had much social significance. What had been symbols of power and, at least, of wealth, had become more broadly integrated into society and had seemingly become a matter of aesthetic and, perhaps, some historical value.

The preimperial division of Chinese culture into northern (eventually, Qin) and southern (Chu) shifted during the Han so that the influence of each of these major regions on Han vessel forms, in particular, may be seen throughout metropolitan China. During the Han, the southern frontier shifted farther south, beyond Chu, to the regions of the maritime south: Guangxi, Guangdong, Guizhou, and Fujian, which I designate as the Far South. At the same time, the most characteristic marks of Han Far South regionalism — that is, vessels with a characteristic downward-sloping profile — did not develop in that region. Instead, they were among vessel forms used throughout China during the Bronze Age from the Early Shang onward.

Their subsequent adoption in the Far South attests to the generalized continuity of Bronze Age forms found throughout the Han, more than to continued historical contact between the Han Far South and the Eastern Zhou Yue states of the Lower Yangzi. Even as this Far South profile became characteristic, however, the Han Far South remained firmly part of national Han tendencies. The Far South profile may be characteristic of its named region, but it is by no means dominant there. This suggests that its appearance and continued utilization represents an ongoing aesthetic choice, not regional isolation.

In the matter of regionalism, as in the creative integration of the past, one profound transformation visible in the Han is the replacement of bronze as the preferred medium of creativity in vessel production by not only ceramic but also, specifically, earthenware. This would explain the truly national distribution of some of the most popular vessels in my typology (such as hu 101; guan 98). The use of different clays, often with different firing temperatures, in the production of these shapes suggests local production based on models originally made in other regions. The rare occurrence of stoneware — or even more rarely, porcelain — is distributed not only in Zhejiang, associated during the Han with high-firing kilns, but scattered throughout much of Han territory, including in Guangdong and Shandong. While interregional trade in high-fired ware is likely, high-firing kilns may subsequently be discovered in Jiangsu and throughout regions where high-fired versions of forms not closely associated with Zhejiang are found. In context, the distribution of vessel forms seems to indicate that some may have been developed in earthenware and recopied either experimentally or as a more luxurious variant in higher-firing clays, rather than the reverse. This means that specifically earthenware, not high-fired ware, replaced bronze as the preferred creative medium of vessel development. Hence, a lower-cost material replaced development in high-cost media. This would have allowed not only wider adoption and development of forms because of lower cost but also greater ease of production, and hence experimentation, as lower-firing clay was readily available throughout the country and was technically far less difficult to work. This development in itself signals a new openness and freedom independent from preimperial devotion to bronze as both a physical and cultural medium. The assumption of new status by earthenware heralds what I call the Age of Ceramics.

Here again, Han material culture emerges as highly creative, constituted at will from whatever elements met the need, with tremendous awareness of and openness to not only the Chinese past but also to cultures covering vast areas of the ancient world. For me, the most important aspect of this view of the Han is the unknown: at this time, neither archaeological nor text-based material provides any indication of the need we see fulfilled by, for instance, the dome. The free creativity represented by the dome unexpectedly illuminates all of Han culture: it places Han intellectuals in an open, dynamic, well-connected culture, rather than in an inward-turning, narrowly self-referential culture. I cannot address the implications of this openness beyond material culture, but for me, it changes profoundly the context in which we interpret the Han.