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第二十九 輿服上 玉輅 乘輿 金根 安車 立車 耕車 戎車 獵車 軿車 青蓋車...

Volume 119: Travel and Dress Part One

Chapter 130 of 後漢書 · Book of Later Han
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Chapter 130
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1
使 輿 使 使
The Classic of Documents declares: “Prove their worth by what they achieve, then reward merit with the carriages and vestments befitting it.” The sense is this: the ancient sage labored for the common good of the realm and swept away its gravest evils—taking the burden on his own shoulders, braving every season, until every living thing could keep its natural span free from untimely death, tyranny, or plunder. So the folk revered and cherished him as they would their own parents; they took his example for their nurture, as one lifts the face toward sun and moon. Love made them wish him to endure forever, so they shouldered corvée without complaint and raised halls—beams aloft, eaves below—to roof him in, all so his reign might last. Reverence made them wish him awe-inspiring rank, so they forged wheels, flew standards, and forged regalia that matched his majesty. Such was love pressed to its limit and reverence carried to its height. Where love and reverence are genuine, no repayment, however lavish, can ever discharge the debt of feeling. Some laid down their lives—such was the depth of their devotion; generation after generation they kept his shrines lit, proclaiming his achievement to posterity. Thus his fame runs on beside heaven and earth without end. Later sages understood that rulers who take the people’s anxieties to heart are owed their joys in turn; and that those who labor at humanity, cherishing life so none dies before its time, earn a blessing in return. So they framed rite and music to set bounds: the supreme humanity that carries heaven’s pattern and orders the world must never trumpet its own work; the people thrive as if by nature itself, unaware whom to praise. Laozi writes: “The sage is not ‘kind’ in the small sense; he holds the common people as ritual straw dogs—deployed without clinging.” The passage means just this.
2
退 輿 輿 輿
Court dress and chariot regalia arose to reward merit, make virtue visible, exalt humanity, and honor the worthy. Rite therefore grades the high above the low and forbids trespass—that is what makes it ritual; no one may don insignia above his station—that is what makes it binding. When it is honored, superiors and inferiors fall into rank; the mean in virtue falls back, the abundant in virtue shines forth. Hence the true king on the throne wears the deep-crowned diadem hung with jade beads, robes figured with sun, moon, and ascending dragon, chariot fittings of the “mountain” and gold-root types, the yellow canopy and the yak-tail standard at the left—all to answer his virtue and proclaim his merit. Worthy helpers who receive fiefs ride chariots of state emblazoned with paired dragons, their silks brocaded with axe-and-fu motifs—insignia that broadcast their humanity and capacity. By the final generations the sage-king had lost his seat and good men withdrew to obscurity; the throne grew feeble while regional lords threw their weight about. Then lords measured one another by title alone, traded slander for wealth, bought loyalty with gain, and the empire’s ritual order collapsed. It began when King Yi of Zhou stepped down from his dais to greet vassal lords—a Son of Heaven already surrendering proper precedence. Thereafter princes claimed royal music at their meals, offered the white bull reserved for the Son of Heaven, sounded jade lithophones, carried crimson shields bossed in gold, and performed the Great Martial dance in full regalia. Great officers raised twin gatehouses, lined their approaches with trees, set up the lordly cup-stand, wore inner robes brocaded with axe emblems, used carved sacrificial gui and crimson cap cords—every one a prerogative of a marquis. The Book of Poetry mocks “those fellows in finery that outranks their virtue,” lamenting how counterfeit splendor corrupts the moral order. The Book of Changes warns that when a mean man mounts a noble’s carriage, bandits already plot to strip him—the vessel summons the theft. Hence ritual unraveled and arms flared everywhere; high and low lost all measure until even vassals and household ministers carved mountain-shaped capitals and painted their roof beams like kings. By the Warring States excess and trespass burned brighter still; rulers shredded the ritual codices, loathing any text that might curb their ambition. They raced to outdo one another in bizarre silks, gilded saddlery, jade-hung bridles, and ivory-mounted harness—each display grander than the last. They slaughtered for margins slimmer than an awl-tip, reaping lives like hay, and in the same breath saw their own lineages snuffed out. So long as glory stuck to the self, they went to the grave unrepentant. When Qin swallowed the realm it seized every court’s carriages and costumes, reserving the best for the throne and handing the rest down the bureaucracy. The Han began in haste, short of classical scholars, and at first simply continued Qin usage; only by degrees did it reform the code, cross-check the Six Classics, and edge back toward proper dignity. Confucius said: “Whoever may succeed the Zhou should use the Xia calendar, ride the Yin carriage, wear the Zhou cap, and for music adopt the Shao and the Wu.” Hence this “Chariots and Vestments” monograph is set in writing so readers may trace how regalia has waxed and waned from antiquity to the present.
3
輿 輿 · 輿
The earliest sages watched windblown pigweed roll and grasped the principle of the wheel. A wheel could bear a load in motion; from that insight they learned manufacture, then framed a body to ride upon it. Body and wheel worked in tandem, rolling on without end, hauling heavy freight over long roads—the world profited from the pairing. Later sages read the sky: the Dipper’s square bowl and crooked handle, the Dragon Horn stars imagined as the celestial chariot—then they curved the draught-pole, hitched ox and horse, crossed rough terrain, and ranged to the ends of the earth. Hence the Changes pairs Thunder atop Qian as “Great Strength”—no crafted thing may outrank what sits highest. Afterward every reign layered new ornament on the design. When Xi Zhong served the Xia as master of chariots, he standardized streamers and pennants so rank from highest to lowest matched fixed grades. Zhou perfected the system: six ministries of craft, of which chariot-making was one among many trades. No single object demanded coordinated skill from so many masters as the chariot; only when every part arrived in season could the six materials meet the standard. The body was squared to echo earth; the canopy was domed to echo heaven; thirty spokes stood for the days of the lunar month; twenty-eight canopy ribs mapped the lunar lodges; the dragon standard’s nine streamers, their seven-ren fall aligned with the axle guard, matched the Great Fire constellation; the bird pennant’s seven streamers, five ren level with the crossbar, answered Quail Fire; the bear ensign’s six streamers, five ren to the shoulder line, invoked Orion and Strife; the tortoise banner’s four streamers, four ren to the crown, mirrored the Encampment lodge; the bent-arrow bow-banner echoed the Bow asterism—such were the emblems permitted below the rank of independent prince.
4
輿
The emperor’s jade-lined state carriage bore jade inlay, twelve-knot cheek tassels, and the Grand Constant standard with twelve streamers dragging nine ren on the ground, broidered with sun, moon, and ascending dragon to mirror celestial radiance. After King Yi the royal house declined, and regional lords dared to ride the great-road chariot reserved for the Son of Heaven. When Qin united the realm it surveyed Three Dynasties ritual; tradition names the Yin “auspicious mountain” carriage and speaks of the gold-root hue. Han continued Qin practice: the imperial train was termed the palanquin equipage—the carriage type Confucius had praised as “the Yin road.”
5
輿輿B42EB42FE47BDA3E
Palanquin, gold-root, seated, and standing state carriages shared scarlet-flecked double-toothed wheels, twin hubs, paired linchpins, gold-foil dragons on the side-rails, tigers on the crossbar, dragon-headed yoke, lucky tubes at either side, luan birds on the crossbeam, cloud beasts painted down the pole, plumed canopy with jeweled finials, a twelve-pennon great banner figured with sun, moon, and dragon, teams of six with ivory bits and pierced tin bosses, gold shield-mounts and square nave caps, pheasant plumes astern, vermillion cheek and crupper tassels, red hide and yak wool, twelve gold roundels, and the yak-tail standard at the left trace—large as a peck measure—the whole ensemble called the “chariot of virtue.” The five seasonal chariots—seated and standing models—matched this specification. Each matched its directional color, horses dyed or caparisoned to suit. White horses had mane and tail dyed scarlet so the team showed crimson crests. The sovereign alone used six horses; all other cars ran four, trailing as escort vehicles.
6
𨏟
The ritual ploughing carriage wore the same decorative scheme. It carried a triple canopy. Also called the “mushroom” carriage, it stowed hoes and ploughs for the ceremonial furrow—the emperor’s personal car for the spring ploughing rite.
7
𨏟
The war chariot matched the same ornamental program. It carried spears, command flags, gongs and drums, feather screens, sun shades, and a locker for helms, mail, and crossbows.
8
The hunting carriage used the same fittings. It had a double tire, cloth-wrapped wheel, and coiling dragon scrollwork round the felloe. Also known as the “pig-barrier” car, it carried the ruler on the imperial battue.
9
軿 B42E 軿 軿
On statutory progresses the two dowagers rode gold-root cars veiled with lattice curtains and hanging panels. For informal outings they used the purple felt covered gig. The pole bore cloud-beast painting, the five metal tips were gilt, and the canopy carried jeweled finials. They were driven three-in-hand with traces on both sides. Senior imperial daughters rode the crimson felt gig. Great and ordinary honored consorts, princesses, princes’ wives, and enfeoffed noblewomen rode lacquered, painted gigs. Great honored ladies added ornamental striping to the pole. All these gigs used a single right-side trace horse.
10
B42E 鹿
Crown prince and princes rode seated cars with scarlet-flecked wheels, blue-green canopy, gold finials, black cloud beasts on the panels, painted sashes and pole, gilt hardware. Once a prince was enfeoffed he received this model—hence the “king’s green-canopy carriage.” Imperial grandsons followed in green carriages. All used paired traces with three horses. Dukes and marquises rode seated cars with speckled red wheels, deer figures on the uprights, bears on the crossbar, black silk canopy, black sashes, and a right-side mudguard.
11
滿
Officials at full and straight two thousand piculs used black canopies with red both-side sashes. One-thousand- and six-hundred-picul ranks kept red only on the left sash. Each sash was six feet long, eight inches across the lower flare, twelve inches at the crown, cut with nine motifs and twelve scallops, the trailing edge pared back an inch like a crescent moon to signal humility. In Jing’s Zhongyuan 5 an edict allowed six-hundred-picul officials and above to mount carriage sashes, bronze tips on fittings, and lucky tubes on the yoke. Two-thousand-picul ranks added a right trace; three hundred and up used black cloth canopies; one thousand and up had black silk overlay; below two hundred, white cloth—all with corner ties and wrapped poles. Traders were forbidden horse-drawn passenger carriages. Retired officers kept crimson-wrapped shafts; everyone else used blue cloud designs.
12
軿
Wives of dukes, marquises, and two-thousand-picul officials, at court levees or the silkworm ceremony, rode their husbands’ seated cars—right trace, lattice veils, black throughout. Away from formal assembly they could not use the court car but might take the lacquered cloth gig with bronze-capped fittings.
13
輿 西 簿
For the emperor’s grand progress the three excellencies led the team, the grand coachman held the reins, and the grand general rode escort on the running board. The train numbered eighty-one follow-cars, the full complement evoking “thousand chariots, myriad horsemen.” Western Chang’an staged the suburban rite to Heaven with the full Ganquan equipage. The ministry kept an annotated order of march—the “Ganquan procession book.” At Luoyang only the funeral of an emperor deployed the great equipage. Under the great-progress order the grand coachman checked every trace and buckle. For the middle-grade statutory train the Yellow Gate superintendent checked every strap and buckle.
14
輿簿
On a statutory progress the three excellencies did not march inside the formal order of march. The capital intendant, the city’s chief of police, and the Luoyang magistrate led the teams, a carriage gentleman held the reins, and an attendant-in-ordinary took the seat beside the driver. The follow-train numbered thirty-six cars. The vanguard displayed nine-streamer cloud-nets, phoenix-patterned ji halberds, leather-canopied scouts, and luan standards, each piece carried by a ranked grandee. The “luan” banner braided pheasant plumes and yak tails along the staff beside the imperial umbrella. Rustics nicknamed it the “chicken plume,” but that name is a vulgar error. The rear brought up a bronze signal gong, a gilded battle-axe, and the eunuch corps’ drum wagon.
15
Classical enfeoffed lords were allowed nine escort chariots. When Qin swallowed the rival kingdoms it seized their court trains, which is why the Han “great progress” runs eighty-one follow-cars while the statutory halving uses thirty-six. Each escort wagon wore a black canopy lined in red, scarlet sashes, and racks for pole-arms and crossbows—manned by masters-of-writing and attending censors. The rearmost car flew a leopard-tail pennant; anyone stationed ahead of that marker was treated as inside the inner-court cordon.
16
簿
Heaven at the southern suburb kept the statutory train; Earth and the Bright Hall shed thirty percent of the escort; temple runs pared the roster again—these were the “light” and “lighter” formations. On every outing the grand coachman logged the harness and filed the order of march, while a chief eunuch and a junior yellow gate doubled-checked the roster. The duty secretary from the Masters’ Bureau paired with a gentleman’s clerk; the attending censor paired with an Orchid Terrace archivist. Each deputy carried a checked list to line up mounts and carriages—what the court called “escort duty.” Seasonal tomb pilgrimages used an even slimmer train than the “light” set: only one on-duty secretary rode along, while chiefs of bureau and below cleared the road beforehand and peeled off once the rite ended.
17
輿<> 簿 殿
The “light car” is the old battlefield chariot, stripped for speed. Its body showed scarlet through pierced wheels, it carried neither sun-screen nor roof, it bristled with spears, ji, and signal flags, and a trailing supply cart bore bundled crossbows and spare quarrels. The whole detachment lived in the imperial arsenal between parades. Whenever the great or statutory train rolled, the colonel of crossbowmen and his staff took these cars in sequence among the follow-wagons inside the cordon. Each type bristled with pole-arms, while banners and streamers stayed strictly polychrome according to the Zhou canonical scheme. The military treatises of Wu and Sun record: “Add canopy and side screen and you have the armored escort wagon.” Those armored wagons opened the march. Light war cars also brought up the rear of the follow-train.
18
使 DA7A
Senior envoys used a tall four-horse carriage with crimson hangings, the rider standing to show rank. Men carrying the imperial staff drew a heavy escort—paired wagons for the burglar bureau, the display axes, the route supervisor, and the merit clerk; the lead baggage wagon added twelve runners with shouldered crossbows; four outriders on foot cleared the way; and four light follow-cars trailed behind. Envoys without the bronze staff made do with half that escort and a single file of runners.
19
使
Junior missions rode seated gigs with a side trace, lacquered red fenders, and doubled scarlet drapes. Their vanguard omitted the ceremonial axe wagon.
20
使輿
Rapid courier gigs used orchid scrollwork on the panels, crimson hubs, a white umbrella roof, and red side screens. Forty mounted runners rode escort. Such was the train for investigators chasing bandits, holding inquests, or serving sealed warrants of arrest.
21
使
Every official dispatch vehicle shared speckled red wheels, four-spoke hubs, and scarlet yoke hardware. After obsequies crews whitewashed the lower panels to a set line, sprinkled the wheels for purification, and only then drove the cars back to depot. High ministers traveling under statute to suburban shrines, the Bright Hall, or mausolea all stood in heavy four-horse baggage wagons. Ordinary business let them drop into enclosed seated carriages.
22
B42E
The imperial corpse wagon matched the gold-root state car but layered knotted cords and linked jade discs at each corner, gilt dragon jaws clutching ritual bi, polychrome silk tassels, plume fringes fore and aft, painted cloud veils, curved sashes with beast scrollwork, and the extended “long suspension” hearse style. The grand coachman handled six horses—the special white team reserved for the funeral train. Those “distribution” mounts were snowy piebalds whose hides were singed with black paste into tiger stripes for the catafalque team. Once the mound was closed the horses went to public auction, the hearses were locked in the northern vault outside the walls, and neither team nor car might re-enter the capital gates. Before another use the grand coachman and the Works office refitted the interiors so mourning gear never mingled with living court ritual.
23
簿
Everyone from the three excellencies down to a three-hundred-picul county chief traveled with five household runners—burglar clerk, thief-catcher, merit clerk—each sword-armed, and three lead cars; the chief registrar and chief recorder each rated a follow-wagon. County magistrates and above added the axe-bearing vanguard wagon. A duke in a covered carriage still posted outriders fore and aft as if standing in a state car. Chang’an’s and Luoyang’s magistrates, plus capital county chiefs in kingdoms, doubled the escort with armored vans fore and aft, ward captains, a right-side trace horse, and two-horse teams. Foot runners marching ahead of the crossbow wagon numbered eight for a duke, four for top ministers and six-hundred-picul ranks, and two for everyone from four hundred down to two hundred piculs. Officials with the yellow ribbon gave military posts foot escorts and civil posts light clearing carriages. Grooms, doorkeepers, gate sergeants, clerical runners, and neighborhood constables each drew fixed complements scaled to the magistrate’s jurisdiction. Post stations sat thirty li apart on the highways, every courier in a scarlet kerchief and crimson coat.
24
<> 簿
Ancient hosts on campaign marched with full brigades in train; Qin cut the infantry tail but kept the old names “army” and “brigade” for its escort labels. Dukes through two-thousand-picul ministers rated four mounted attendants; magistrates from one thousand down to three hundred piculs had two; every man went armed with sword, halberd at the van, bow on the back, and nine-tube quiver. A king’s statutory progress duplicated the capital model: from chancellor down every aide rode in the roster with strung bows, filled quivers, and tight pickets controlling every crossing. Marquises made do with their household steward and junior son-of-the-house leading the escort. For the spring plough or joint sacrifices the county seat loaned road-clearing wagons and liveried runners to fill out the spectacle. Once the rite ended every borrowed runner and vehicle went back to county stock.
25
輿 鹿鹿 鹿鹿
Imperial cars showed paired dragons and tigers on the panels, painted beasts along the pole, dragon and luan on the yoke, double-notched red wheels, and flying hub caps figured with ascending dragons. Heirs and kings swapped the dragon for tiger-and-deer pairs, kept lucky tubes and speckled wheels, carved deer motifs on the hubs, and flew nine-dragon ensigns. Dukes and marquises paired deer and bear, blackened their sashes, and still flew the nine-dragon pattern on lesser banners. Ministers of state doubled the red sashes and dropped to five dragons on the staff. Everyone below two thousand piculs matched ornament to salary rank, but any covered gig upward still mounted the bronze “lucky” tubes on the yoke.
26
輿𦁕 鹿 使
Imperial teams wore gold hub caps, pheasant plumes, ivory bits, dragon scrolls on the brow band, foam-white ascending dragons on the cheek pieces, crimson chest cloths, blue “double wings,” and swallow-tail cruppers. Outriders flanked the team with crimson ear tassels, bird-shaped cheek bosses, and doubled scarlet breast bands. The crown prince’s outriders often matched this harness scheme. Kings, dukes, and marquises used pierced tin bosses, figured manes, scarlet bits and deer motifs, red brocade on the breast, blue side wings, and swallow-tail cruppers. Ministers with side traces shifted to tawny chest cloths, blue wings and tail tassels, and patterned brow bosses on both lead and trace mounts. Only officials at “full two thousand piculs” and credentialed envoys rated the paired trace horses described above.
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