When we think of the chariot and it’s association with antiquity, those of us weened on a cultural diet of Hollywood epic cinema might think about Ancient Rome and chariot racing in the Circus Maximus (such as famously featured in Ben Hur) or Ancient Egypt (imperial chariots ostentatiously ferrying proud pharaohs to some battle or conquest in The Ten Commandments). However, those that bought the Hollywood spin on ancient history might be surprised to learn that the chariot as a vehicle for hunting, racing or war in the ancient world did not have its genesis with either Rome or Egypt❋.
Traditionally, most historians of the ancient world have traced the chariot’s origins to Mesopotamia and the Near East (roughly dated as somewhere around 3,000 to 2,000 BC). More recent archaeological findings have however thrown up a rival candidate, the steppes of Russia and Kazakhstan. In the 1970s archaeologists unearthed the remains of chariots in the Ural Mountains of Central Russia which are thought to be as old as 4,000 years (there has some some conjecture as to whether these were chariots or carts and wagons) [‘Secrets of the Chinese Chariot’, Documentary, UK 2016, (aired SBS 15-Nov-2019)].
Asiatic onager ⇑
The first chariots in use, whether they were in the steppes of Central Asia and Asiatic Russia, or Mesopotamia, were not powered by horses, which were relatively late to be domesticated. Instead, other four-legged beasts, especially donkeys, onagers (Asiatic wild asses) or oxen, were initially employed. The concept of horse-driven chariots can trace its origins to those same steppes, the landscape in which the horse was first domesticated [“The Wheels of War: Evolution of the Chariot” History on the Net, (© 2000-2019), Salem Media. December 9, 2019 <https://www.historyonthenet.com/the-wheels-of-war-evolution-of-the-chariot>].
The horse’s domestication in the great steppes of Asia and evidence of early chariot-making in Russia/Central Asia are clear indicators of the pathway by which the chariot arrived in China. The oldest surviving remnants of the chariot in China dates its appearance to around 1,200 BC, coinciding with the Shang period of rule (found at Anyang in Henan Province). Other items excavated at Chinese sites reinforce the early existence of chariots in Ancient Chinese society, such as the characters inscribed on oracle bones—on some of these the image of chariots can be detected (‘Secrets of the Chinese Chariot’).
Oracle bone from Shang dynasty ⇓
Chariots of a different hue
The chariot in China reached its peak in the Western Zhou (1,046-771 BC) and the succeeding Eastern Zhou periods (771-226 BC), with chariots numbering in the thousands [Mark Cartwright, ‘Chariots in Ancient Chinese Warfare’, Ancient History Encyclopedia, (13-Jul-2017), www.ancient.edu]. One of the most interesting features of the Chinese chariot is it’s distinct differences from the chariots used by the earlier Sumerian, Hittite and Egyptian civilisations. Chinese chariots tended to be plus-sized compared to those from the Near East, the Caucasus, etc. The carriages were rectangular and large, with the vehicle’s axle located at the central point of the platform, giving the vehicles better balance (Near Eastern and Egyptian chariots typically positioned the axle at the end of the chariot).
But even of more striking difference was the Chinese wheels, they were huge and of a multi-stoked variety (usually comprising between 18 and 26 stokes on each wheel). The Western Asian/Near Eastern chariot wheels of antiquity by contrast were small and compact, usually with only six stokes per wheel (even earlier ones were made of heavy solid wood). The Chinese “super-size me” wheels were designed with local conditions in mind. The lighter, more flexible wheels were better suited to China’s rough terrain, accordingly they also made the horses’ task of pulling the chariot easier too [‘Secrets of the Chinese Chariot’; Andrew Knighton, ‘ The Rise and Fall of the Chariot – It Changed History, But Eventually Was a Victim Of Its Own Success’, War History Online, 04-Nov-2016, www.warhistoryonline.com].
A symbol of one’s class
Chariot and chariot horse ownership, much like the most expensive luxury cars today, was the preserve of the very wealthy in society✪. The archaeological evidence found in tomb pits confirms this. Chariots were a sign of great status for the nobleman. Owners needed to be well cashed-up as the vehicles were expensive to make and to maintain. Accordingly, noblemen in China, Egypt and elsewhere, when they died, would have their chariots and their horses interred with them in their burial tombs. Chariot pits such as those discovered in 2015 at Zaoyang, Hubei Province (dating to ca. 700 BC), shed light on the chariot’s significance. An aristocrat’s power was measured in the number of chariots he owned. The aristocratic class was expected, as part of their leading military role, to have the personal skills to master the chariot in warfare [‘Pictures: Ancient Chariot Fleet, Horses Unearthed in China’, National Geographic, 28-Sep-2011, www.nationalgeographic.com].
Photo: Zhang Xiaoli, Xinhua via Fame/Barcroft
The Zaoyang pit has proved particular fertile ground for chariot exhumation. Comprising a massive area of 33m x 4m, archaeological field workers divested it of 28 chariots and 49 pairs (49 x 2 = 98) skeletons of horses neatly arranged side by side [‘Archaeologists in China find 2,800-year-old tombs surrounded by 28 chariots and 98 horses’, (April Holloway), Ancient Origins, 22-May-2018, www.ancient-origins.net].
Horses for courses
The unearthed skeletons of the horses at Zaoyang and at numerous other burial sites reveal that the Chinese ‘chariotocracy’ used a specific kind of horse for their chariots – stocky, strongly-built Mongolian horses, standing about 1.4m tall, were deemed most suitable to haul the large Chinese chariots around the countryside [‘Secrets of the Chinese Chariot’].
Chinese chariots had some features that was different from elsewhere in the ancient world. Normally, a chariot crew (ma) in action comprised two men, this was standard. But commonly in Chinese chariots there were three men on board. The driver or charioteer⌑ and the archer were accompanied on the chariot platform by a third man. Sometimes called a rongyou, his job was to protect the other two in combat armed with a kind of spear-axe or halberd (known in China as a Ji). There were also specialist war chariots in China with a “crow’s nest” (ch’ao-ch’e) attached, a tower on an elevated chassis mounted above the platform of the chariot. This permitted an army commander to observe the field of battle more easily and to communicate orders to the army’s flag wavers (Cartwright).
Another advance in weapon technology at the time, the supplanting of the all-wood bow by a new, shorter composite bow (made of wood, horn and sinew), made the mobile archer a more effective and more potent element in battles (Knighton). The streamlining of war chariots, making them lighter and more manoeuvrable, made it feasible for them to outrun light infantry and heavier chariots. These chariots were still not without their limitations or drawbacks, they required flat ground to be effectively mobile and were prone to breaking down (armies often brought chariot repair teams with them to the battlefield) [‘Chariot tactics’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org; ‘The Wheels of War’].
Role in unification of the Chinese states
The importance of chariots as a military weapon in China coincided with the period of Warring States (Zhànguó Shídài). The kings (gúowáng, 国王) of the two strongest states Qin and Chu each had about 1,000 chariots at their command, and the vehicle certainly played its part in the eventual unification of China under the Yins. But the decisive role of chariots in war, even then, was diminishing. A combination of several developments in the military sphere undercut the chariot’s effectiveness in battles—army reforms saw increased reliance on the mobility of massed infantry and cavalry (greatly diminishing the crucial role played by nobleman). Chariots could not compete with fast-moving, well-coordinated cavalry. These developments and the introduction of iron weapons, especially the lethal eight-picul crossbow (nu), blunted the effectiveness of chariot-led warfare⌻ [‘Warring States period’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].
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❋ in fact, chariot racing, so synonymous with the Romans, was a sport they copied from the Ancient Greeks (Homer’s Iliad includes a description of chariot racing in Book XXIII, ‘Chariot racing’, Britannica, www.britannica.com). Chariots were also used for hunting and funeral processions
✪ the conspicuously affluent citizens of the day paraded their chariots around town as ceremonial vehicles in much the same way as Ferraris, Lamborghinis and other prestigious luxury vehicles are ostentatiously shown off today. The chariots were decorated colourfully and elaborately with cowrie shells and bronze fittings
⌑ the charioteers were the most costly, prestigious and influential section of the army (Knighton) with entry to its ranks very competitive. The Luiu-t’ao (Six Secret Teachings), (5th-3rd BC military treatise, describes the necessity for chariot warriors to be the best and fittest in the army (age, height and agility standards had to be met) (Cartwright)
⌻ crossbows proved the nemesis of the war chariot, and once humans were successful in bending horses to obey their will, fleet-of-foot cavalry units could inflict considerably more damage on the enemy line than chariots could (‘Secrets of the Chinese Chariot’)
My appetite whetted, I wanted to delve a bit more of the mystery of the “Hermit Kingdom”, so long cloaked in secrecy to the outside world. A subsequent boat trip up the Yalu left me little more enlightened about what life looked like across the border. Although our hire vessel got pretty close at times to the North Korean mainland, there was a bland homogeneity to what I could see…miles and miles of attractive but uninhabited hills and meadows, pockets of farmed land, the odd isolated building, a few roads, the occasional vehicle, but hardly a human to be sighted!❈
Touring Changbai County
The Changbai border towns on the Chinese side are quite remote and relatively lightly populated (most of the internal tourists skip straight past them and make for the much vaunted mountains themselves). All along the Yalu river border between the two countries, there were no Korean border posts or guards in sight. The river itself was the only buffer (no barbed wire fences like I saw north of Dandong). It occurred to me that this un-patrolled, quite narrow and innocuous-looking waterway would not pose much of a challenge to any impoverished North Korean determined enough to escape to the Chinese side in pursuit of a better and more prosperous life. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine Korean refugees clandestinely slipping across the river border and being absorbed into a community with which it already had cultural and linguistic affinities.
Having hired a Baishan taxi for the day, we visited several of these border villages on route S303. Here I got a chance to see just much Korean culture had permeated the border and river into China. At one point on the river near Maluguo Town, we stopped at a spot where some peasant farmers had laid out their bright harvest of red peppers on the wall to dry (and to sell). This was part of a little trading post peddling various little North Korean trinkets and knicknaks.
The Korean changgu, integrated into Changbai County public sculpture and municipal utilities ▼▲
Korean influences on Changbai County
Continuing on for a few hundred yards we stopped at Guoyuan Village, a tourist an attraction in border country which houses a model Korean village. The village consists of some basic Korean log timber dwellings, a backyard produce garden and a well. The adjoining Korean-style gardens contains a pleasant stream with an agricultural water-wheel with a scattering of sculptures. We stayed here about an hour, wandering the gardens and taking photos. Curiously the place was deserted, we were the only visitors here, no staff around either (though there was a Korean restaurant at the front of the village). Suffice it to say it was a very peaceful and serene setting and a very pleasant diversion.
Heroic scenes from Chinese history ▲
Spying on the North Koreans? ▲
Imitation Great Wall and scenic North Korean peak ▲
A pagoda-roofed border site for scenic views of the DPRK▼
The canyon boardwalk takes about 40 to 50 minutes to complete, depending on how fast you want to go, how many times you want to stop and injest the atmosphere and the scenic views, take photos, etc.
The canyon cuts its way through a dense forest of ancient arboreal specimens. The raised boardwalk allows spectacular views down the 100-metre deep canyon to the river. The walk includes a couple of Indiana Jones-style swaying bridges (not quite as ‘hairy’ a crossing as in the “Lost Raiders” movie). The highlight of the canyon for me was the multitude of intriguing and unusual rock formations to be seen.
The next day we made for the town tourist centre to buy tickets to Changbaishanxi or Changbai Mountain West⍟. Our overriding objective was to see the famous Changbai Tianchi – the much touted “Heavenly Lake”. When our bus got to the car park at the foot of the Tianchi mountains we were aware from the vast crowds and lines that greeted us, that it was everybody’s overriding objective.
We had already caught glimpses of the glistering white, snow-like peaks as the bus chugged up the winding road to the tourism site. After availing ourselves of the toilets near the car park (there being no public amenities at the top of the mountain barring a single souvenir stall), we joined the thronging lines of people embarking on the climb.
From the bottom looking up, there are two walkways, on the left the down staircase and on the right the wooden up staircase. Unfortunately, for walkers going up the right-side steps, some people coming down were blissfully unaware of or simply ignored the clearly posted signs about keeping right on the way down. As a result, walkers going up regularly have to dodge and weave their way round non-conformist walkers on the wrong side. Annoying!
What was already a challenging walk up the mountain, was made more difficult by the heat of the day. Especially so for me…because of the anticipated cold of the mountains I had worn Long Johns under my jeans. This made the climb up for me very heavy-going indeed. The ascent to Heavenly Lake in high summer is not “a piece of cake”…but of course you can always stop at any point, take a breather and admire the unrelentingly beautiful vista.
A further off-putting element for a first-time climber at Changbai West is the deceptiveness of the slope. Rather than one (very) long, single “Stairway to Heaven”, the section of stairs you were struggling up would end, only to be continued by a new section. On the ascent, as we paused to take deep gulps of air, we found it difficult to gauge exactly where the top was! It was like the mountain peak was teasing us…just when we were beginning to feel relief having sighted (finally) what we thought was the summit, it would be taken away from us by the appearance of another (and another) extension of the seemingly never-ending stairway.
The one redeeming feature of this long arduous climb is that the steps are marked at five-metre intervals, so as you breathlessly drag yourself onward and upward, at least you know how far you’ve gone. But we didn’t check on the vertical distance before we embarked on the challenge of the Tianchi stairs. So this proved only of limited comfort to us seeing we had no idea how far there was still to go!
When we ultimately made it to the summit there was genuine relief to be felt. As well, there’s a congratulatory sign at the top to verify the achievement: SUMMIT! GREAT JOB! it proclaims. The sign informs walkers that they’ve reached a elevation point some 2,470 metres above sea-level, numerical confirmation of how high they’ve climbed.
For those who can’t physically manage the walk or just don’t feel like doing the ‘hard yakka”, there is the option of ascent by sedan. You can be ferried up the mountain’s infinite number of steps by a brace of hired carriers. You may even experience the momentary pleasure of imagining, just fleetingly, that you are like some distant China emperor! I did however spare a sympathetic thought for a couple of the sedan carriers I passed. There they were about two-thirds of the way up, two fairly slenderly built guys, slumped over, sprawled on the steps, the effort of transporting their rotund and corpulently-proportioned client in this stifling heat was just too much for the poor fellows.
At the summit there’s a large rectangular-shaped wooden viewing platform to gaze out on the Heavenly Lake. Almost all of the ballast was on one side of the platform, everyone with a camera or a mobile phone was jockeying for the optimal position on the the lake side to take photos and selfies from.
The utter serenity and stillness of the idyllic landscape, of this gem of nature, contrasted with the jostling and chattering of the human visitors. But it was undeniably a sight worth the trek up the mountain. Seeing Tianchi, with its pristine blue waters at the very top of such a vast mountain peak, was proof that the tag “Heavenly Lake” was not hyperbole. This picture-perfect strato-volcanic crater lake must be one of the most photographed rural lake settings in the world.
The return walk down was much less taxing on the legs than going up, a leisurely saunter requiring relatively little effort by comparison, notwithstanding the cautionary sign at the start of the downward stairway: “Many Steps / Take Care / Please Go Slowly”.
