In 1974 a group of Chinese peasants sinking a well on scrubby land outside the
city of Xi’an discovered some fragments of terracotta. As the work
progressed, one side of the well disappeared into an underground pit. If
they had started digging a few feet in the other direction, they would have
missed the subterranean chamber altogether. One of the wonders of the world
might then have remained undiscovered and the British Museum would not now
be preparing for what is expected to be its biggest exhibition.
Ancient sources referred to the tomb of the First Emperor of China, and the
huge burial mound was visible above ground. But there was no mention of what
the Emperor had buried with him: an entire army of terracotta warriors to
guard him in the afterlife. The roof of the pit had collapsed, shattering
the figures into pieces that had to be painstakingly reassembled. “At first
we were not sure what they were,” says Yuan Zhongyi, the first director of
the site. “It was a year before we realised the significance. We found
inscriptions on the weapons that linked them to the first Emperor. It was
very exciting to find so many objects. There had never been a find like this
before. It was not only me that was surprised. People from all over the
world were excited.” Other pits were discovered containing not just warriors
but other terracotta members of the imperial court. The sheer scale of the
mausoleum slowly became apparent. It now is known to cover more than 50
square kilometres. The four main pits yielded the majority of the finds, but
there are some 600 pits in total, some containing artefacts, some seemingly
the remains of ceremonial buildings. So far about 1,900 figures have been
recovered. It is estimated that there are as many as 8,000 figures in total
in the pits that have been located.
Qin Shihuangdi united the warring kingdoms of China and became emperor in
221BC. He not only unified the country, but also formalised the language,
the code of law, the coinage and the system of weights and measures. He
brought together a number of walls on the northern frontier to create a
barrier that was a forerunner of the Great Wall of China. He established an
empire that was to last until the beginning of the 20th century, and the
Western word “China” is thought to be derived from his name (Qin is
pronounced “Chin”.)
He was a megalomaniac who became obsessed with finding an elixir that would
give him eternal life. The next best thing was to be all-powerful in the
afterlife, and he was apparently convinced that the way to do this was to
surround himself with perfect, baked clay models of the soldiers, officials,
servants and entertainers that he would need.
Today, walking to the head of pit number 1, looking down at the massed ranks
of restored warriors as they stare past you in the direction from which
enemies would approach the Emperor’s tomb, one is overwhelmed by the
astonishing creative feat of mass-producing this army. The sheer number of
warriors is awe-inspiring and leaves the observer wondering how this
stunning visual impact can be transferred to an exhibition in London.
After elaborate negotiations the Chinese authorities have agreed to allow 120
pieces to travel to Britain. These will include 20 terracotta figures, of
which 12 are warriors, as well as a bureaucrat, a musician, an acrobat, a
strongman and a chariot and horses. Among the other objects will be bronze
birds, intended to amuse the Emperor during musical performances in the
nether world. This is the largest collection yet to have been allowed out of
China.
Neil MacGregor, the director of the British Museum, says that he is delighted
by how many objects have been secured and predicts that it will be “the
biggest and most important exhibition we have put on, certainly the biggest
in terms of scale. The only comparison would be Tutankhamen”. This is a
reference to the 1970s show that became “the first blockbuster exhibition”,
but The First Emperor is already setting new records – 36,000
advance tickets have already been sold.
“You can’t replicate the experience of seeing the mass of figures,” says
MacGregor. “What I want to do is really give the visitor the experience you
can’t get here.” The emphasis will be on allowing visitors to get very close
to the figures in a special space being created in the Reading Room.
In Xi’an MacGregor and his entourage are given the rare privilege of being
allowed to walk in among the figures in the main pit. This serves to prove
his point about the value of seeing the warriors close up: it is a
different, but similarly humbling, experience.
It is believed that the figures are not portraits of the real inhabitants of
the Emperor’s world. Rather, they were mass-produced using moulds and then
exquisitely individualised by each craftsman with a variety of facial
features and tweaks of hair and attire. What makes their creation all the
more intriguing is the fact that there was no tradition of figure making
before the emperor embarked on this hubristic enterprise.
Standing among the larger than lifesize warriors, MacGregor speculates about
the process of their creation. “The care taken with each one is miraculous.
The people who made them must have really enjoyed doing it,” he says.
Someone suggests that they were created by forced labour and joy must have
been absent. “But there is so much more detail here than it needs,” argues
MacGregor, staring at the delicate definition on a face. “It’s hard to
imagine you wouldn’t enjoy doing it.”
The higher ranks got paunches and bigger bottoms, possibly a sign that fun was
being had by the serfs at their masters’ expense. Or is that a 21st-century
interpretation? Perhaps this was just an indication of their well-fed
prosperity. More than 2,000 years later it is hard to say.
The tomb mound itself, which ancient texts reported ran with rivers of
mercury, has barely been touched because of sensitivities about disturbing
the sleep of the First Emperor. Technology may eventually allow a delicate
exploration of the site, but it may never be opened. In any case,
archaeologists have years of work to do on the huge mausoleum complex. “I
hope there won’t be any more discoveries because of all the conservation
work required,” says Wu Yongqi, the current director of the site. “But the
ordinary people hope that we carry on finding things.”
MacGregor, whose eyes light up at the prospect of more buried treasure, takes
the contrary view: “I’m with the ordinary people.”
The First Emperor: China’s Terracotta Army, The British Museum, Great
Russell Street, London WC1 (www.thebritish
museum.ac.uk 020-732 38181), from Sept 13, £12, concs £10. A
fully illustrated book is also available from The British Museum Press,
priced £40
OFFICERS, NOT GENTLE MEN – LIFE IN QIN’S TERRACOTTA ARMY
The expressive faces of the soldiers in Qin’s Terracotta Army and the
delicately sculpted details of each rank make it tempting to assume that the
statues were modelled on real individuals. Experts say not. Yet faced with
this silent throng, one can’t help but wonder what their lives were like.
It appears that the Qin Dynasty did not maintain a professional army but
ensured that all ranks were ready and able to perform duties as and when the
state required. Adult males would have completed military service as part of
their tax obligations. They were registered once they had reached a height
of 4ft 11in, at around the age of 16, until they retired, between the ages
of 56 and 60, irrespective of rank.
On the field, a set of strict written laws governed how officers could punish
their men, largely peasants who are believed to have marched into battle to
the sound of drums and bells and the waving of flags and banners.
A general’s power was symbolised by the ceremonial giving of the axe. It was
presented by the ruler to the commanding general in a formal ritual as a
symbol of his legal authority to kill the enemy and execute any officer or
man who dared to disobey his orders.
Experts believe that until a general had returned the axe even the ruler could
not countermand his orders in the field. A general’s rank was further marked
by his armour. He wore a helmet with a hole in the side for his hair knot,
which he wore low, unlike his men who wore their hair knotted on top. His
armour extended down as far as his waist, with a triangular extension
covering the abdomen made of some 250 scales held together by coloured
ribbons, straps and buttons.
The extra protection would have come in handy as battle groups swelled and
campaigns grew longer under the First Emperor, Qin. Soldiers would have
suffered gruesome injuries from weapons such as swords, dagger-axes,
halberds, spears and crossbows. Little wonder armies already had doctors –
and vets – in tow. NICKY CHATTERTON
