11 minute read
Follow the Script
By Peter Anthony
Rows of brown corn stalks, bunched together like teepees, zip past my view. Outside my train window the world is painted with soggy shades of gray. It rained in Beijing this morning and the weather is no different here in Henan Province 400 miles away. I try to imagine what life is like for the country folks who pop in and out of sight. A lone figure on a muddy road, a rubber-booted farmer who slogs through a shallow pond.
People have farmed Henan’s land along the Yellow River for thousands of years. Stone Age settlements dotted the area. Almost 4,000 years ago, China’s first confirmed dynasty, the Shang, built its capital here on the banks of the sixth-longest river system in the world, on the same river banks where today 12 million people fill the city of Zhengzhou.
The train slows and glides into Zhengzhou Dong [East] Railway station. Past the platform, I glimpse high-rise apartments and the outlines of building cranes. Almost all of the passengers grab their luggage and leave, but Zhengzhou is not my destination. The now-quiet car feels like this is the end of the line. Then a conductor comes in and starts to rotate the seats so they face the opposite direction. I show him my ticket to Kaifeng and he assures me that all is well.
More passengers trickle aboard and, at last, the doors slide shut. From the station, in reverse, on the very same rails by which it entered the train departs. To my relief, it soon veers onto another track and heads toward Kaifeng, or Bianjing, as China’s capital 1,100 years ago came to be called. It’s twilight by the time I get through the waiting line for a taxi. As it splashes its way toward the hotel, I peer out at the lights of the city.
Kaifeng blossomed during the Song Dynasty (960-1127). This was a period marked by greatness in culture – poetry, art, music, literature – and wars. Inventions like gunpowder made the imperial army a force to be reckoned with. It grew into what then was likely the world’s largest metropolis with a population of 600,000-700,000 between 1013 and 1127 A.D. For comparison, Rome might then have had 30,000 inhabitants. Paris, the largest city in Europe, counted around 200,000 residents two centuries later in 1328, the first time a census was taken.
What was daily life like during the Song Dynasty? A brilliant paper scroll painting captures it. This most famous scene in Chinese art, Along the River During the Qingming Festival , reveals Kaifeng as if some ancient photographer had shot A Day in the Life of the Song Dynasty there. This scroll has been called the Mona Lisa of Chinese art, but I think it is more like the Bayeux Tapestry, an artistic record of events in England in 1066 A.D. — coincidentally created around the time that Along the River During the Qingming Festival illustrates.
A set of Chinese coins celebrates the scroll: the 1998 Classic Ancient Chinese Painting — The Riverside Scene During Qingming Festival. Six two-ounce coins measuring 55 millimeters by 36 millimeters and manifesting as .999fine silver rectangles with face values of 20 yuan apiece were minted. Their exquisite images and details are numismatic masterpieces in their own right. The great coin designer Luo Younghui both designed and engraved the obverse. He and fellow coin artist Zeng Chenghu used six details from the painting for the reverse sides’ depictions. These cityscapes are called: Shanghai Gate, Street, Market, Shiqian Restaurant, Hongqiao Bridge, and Water Transport.
Today, there is a giant theme park in Kaifeng, the Qingming Riverside Landscape Garden, that brings scenes like these to life. Visitors have a chance to step back in time and imagine themselves in Bianjing, ancient Kaifeng, 11 centuries ago.
A little blue pennant swings from the tip of a tour guide’s wooden stick, “And this is the imperial doctor’s office.” She taps the rod on a spot of the wall. “This doctor treated not only the emperor, but common people as well. Outside his office is a well designed to keep dust out of the water.” People stand five deep as they strain to see the details the guide refers to on an immense concrete copy of Along the River During the Qingming Festival
“Over here,” the pointer shifts location, “shows a dramatic moment. A ship is headed toward a bridge. They will collide unless the sailors can lower its mast very quickly. The wooden bridge itself is called a ‘rainbow bridge’ and this design is a masterpiece of Song Dynasty engineering.”
“In every aspect of Song Dynasty life, the concept of harmony was prized. For example, the government published a book of architectural designs and standards so that all new buildings in Bianjing would be constructed in a unified style. During the Song Dynasty Bianjing expanded to 16 times its previous size, so the regulations kept the city’s appearance harmonious rather than degenerating into urban sprawl.”
“The Taizu Emperor, who established the Song Dynasty in 960 A.D., was an unusual ruler for his time. His personal tastes ran to the simple. To the horror of his counselors, he insisted on periodically traveling in disguise and unarmed to assess the conditions of the people. In the past, cities in China were divided by interior barriers that separated neighborhoods and roads. In the new capital these were eliminated. He abolished curfews that curbed social and business contacts and Bianjing quickly developed a legendary nightlife. That’s why the main street in Along the River During the Qingming Festival is lined with bustling restaurants. Bianjing developed the most sophisticated food culture the world had ever seen. Its economy boomed.”
The tour group soaks it in hungry for a taste of what Song Dynasty life was like. Speaking of hunger, I notice people lined up at a pushcart. I edge over in that direction to see why. A street vendor, outfitted in a red coat and a black skull cap, slices slabs from a wheel of yellow pastry called Big Song Cut Cake. This traditional confection is baked from dates and glutinous rice.
The seller carefully inserts a wooden stick into a slice and hands the popsicle-shaped treat to a young woman. She gives him a paper yuan note. Paper money is a Song Dynasty invention, too. If this was a thousand years ago, though, a small transaction like this would probably be paid for with cash coins – round copper coins with a square hole in their center.
Cash coins were cast, not struck. Molds were made into which molten metal was poured. After the metal cooled, the mold was broken to expose a coin “tree.” The coins were then detached from the tree and any remaining flash metal filed off. Each coin was inscribed with its imperial pedigree, sometimes carrying calligraphy by the emperor himself, another form of harmony.
The promotion of harmony did not ignore coinage. For example, in Chinese, the word for “coin” is pronounced the same as the word for “perfect.” So, the idea developed that two coins that are identical in all ways except their style of script are a harmonious pair. They bring good fortune to their owner and were collected.
The connection between imperial money and the emperor’s calligraphy is deliberate. Through most of China’s development calligraphy, or “shufa,” (pronounced shoo-fa) was considered, along with poetry, to be one of the two highest forms of artistic self-expression. It ranked higher than painting, or sculpture and that deep admiration for it continues to this day. Museums mount exhibitions of shufa, and many people find a sense of inner harmony as they fill notebooks with carefully drawn characters.
Harmony is a central feature of a series of five beautiful brass alloy People’s Republic of China calligraphy coins. These were struck at the Shenyang Mint with the first one released in November 2009. Its design features an ancient seal script. Some 10 million business-strike coins were issued, each coin with a face value of one yuan. Their weight is 6.75 grams with a diameter of 25 millimeters. A total of 20,000 proof versions were also minted.
In 2010 another coin with the same specifications and the same 10 million was released. Once again, 20,000 proof versions of the design were made. The 2009 and 2010 proofs became the subject of considerable speculation. For a time, prices soared to more than $1,000 USD for a single coin.
The series returned in 2013, 2014, and 2017 with the same physical specifications, but changed in two ways: the denomination was raised to five yuan and the mintages increased, too. In 2013 there were 50 million, in 2014 70 million, and in 2017 250 million brass calligraphy coins minted.
Almost as soon as the brass series ended, China began to issue commemorative gold and silver shufa coins. In 2018, the Shenzhen Guobao Mint produced a set of one gold and four silver legal-tender coins called The Art of Chinese Calligraphy. The 100 yuan gold coin contains 8 grams of .999-fine metal and is 22 millimeters in diameter. It shows the most ancient roots of Chinese writing yet discovered — Oracle Bones. Oracle Bones date back 4,000 years to the Shang Dynasty and were first uncovered in Henan Province. The messages on them are invaluable clues to what Chinese society was like in that era.
The other silver calligraphy coins of 2018 are a 150-gram rectangular 50 yuan and a trio of 30-gram, 40-millimeter round issues. These also feature designs of a variety of ancient Chinese scripts. Additional sets were released in 2019, 2021, and 2022. The 2021 set is particularly notable because the 100 yuan gold coin won a Coin of the Year award as the Best Gold Coin. Its design features an inscription from the Shence Army Stela that is engraved on a Tang Dynasty stone column (618-907 A.D.).
Not far from the Qingming Riverside Landscape Garden, the ancient tradition of calligraphy laps up against the present. One morning, as I stroll along a lakeside path an imposing structure built in Song Dynasty-style looms ahead. A sign in front of it announces,
“Experience the Taste of Traditional Culture. Exhibition of Traditional Scripting Skills.”
Inside, Chinese poetry and adages carved into stone cover the walls much as they do on the Art of Calligraphy coins. The sounds of excited school children on a field trip echo through the corridors. In one interior courtyard, I come across a handful of elementary school-age students busy with a game that uses the characters inscribed into the floor.
The arrival of a visitor distracts them. “Hello, hello!” several call out. “Where are you from?”
More children gather around.
“Meiguo, the U.S.A.,” I answer.
“Which city?”
“Los Angeles,” an answer that intrigues them.
“Do you like China?”
“Yes, very much.”
To these curious youngsters, I am a novelty. For all its historic significance, Kaifeng boasts no terracotta warriors, and it is not a common international tourist destination like Xi’an. This unexpected encounter will be something for the kids to tell their families about later. Before the teachers call them back to their studies everyone bunches together to take class photos with the foreign visitor. The children grin and make peace signs. Then they file off in two lines, just like some scene from Along the River During the Qingming Festival