by Edward H. Schafer
tldr; this book has a whole sub-section on Dwarfs
Its 1962 and Edward H Schafer delves into ream upon uncounted ream of scholarship and records, all to make a list. Lists, beloved by RPG nerds, chroniclers, romantic writers and a Billy Joel.



If reams of DnD theory have been ejaculated from the question ‘What do they have in their pockets?’, birthing engines of devisment dedicated to the rapid simulation of a goblins pockets, and thence, by inference at least, also making query; what can we learn of Goblin culture from the contents of one Goblins pockets? Here now, are the pockets of a People, or an Empire, or at least a Dynasty; one of the big ones, the T’ang. Her is an encyclopaedia of all that the Emperor received. This shows us several thing;
First, it is an image of the world as perceived by the T’ang court. At its distant, wildest most suggestive western reaches, it brushes against ‘Rum’, but the more common Occidental foreigner is the ever-wealthy Persian, bringer of materials and artistic styles. To the East we hear of jungle islands, home of rare hardwoods, poisoned arrows and magical pearls. In the ocean lie the phosphorescent eyes of whales. To the South West is India; source of scripture, and of suspicious witchy alchemists who probably accidentally poisoned the Emperor that one time. South lies the known, but uncivilised aboriginal lands of continental China, malarial yet wealthy country. To the north, the ever-dangerous and very charismatic horse-riding barbarians; one Chinese noble larps so hard as a northern barbarian he ends up living in a tent erected on his family estate, wearing furs, drinking milk and eating near-raw meat, dreaming of the steppe
Second; it is an image of China and Chinese tastes and culture, as seen from the very peak of the pyramid. Horses are desired. The Middle Kingdom has a massive thirst for Horse and is always drinking dry its own supplies. A centrally-mandated Horse-sustainment organisation exists, with vast government herds, but they never seem to have enough and tribute in horses is ever-desired. Some treasures have cross-cultural appeal; hawks, dwarfs and slave girls might be banned occasionally but the tribute always starts up again. One wise magistrate is honoured by his land; he elegantly evades the relentless Imperial demands for MORE DWARFS, taken from his small population, by claiming that since everyone in his country is very small, and they are all pretty much the same height, he really can’t choose anyone exceptional to be sent to the Imperial Court. Another wise one saves the nature pearl-farms by instituting fierce governmental controls, later he is deified as one who returns the pearls. Its only about 800ad but the environmental devastation and consumption of a massive civilised population is already a stark part of the story. China needs horses, but despite efforts, can’t maintain them. She loves pearls, but over-fishes them. The exotic creatures from the borders of her lands keep going extinct or disappearing. This land is like a great terrible octopus, devouring whatever its can from the edges of its knowledge, but ever-spreading.
Third; it paints a suggestive and utterly deranged picture of what life might actually be like in the Imperial Palace; gilded squalor comes to mind. Wealth incalculable, chaos unending. The throne must have tribute and that tribute can come in many, almost in any, form. This means the Palace is filled with, is crammed with, whole zoo’s and parks of rare and strange animals, often the only ones of their kind. Horses, camels, cattle, sheep and goats, asses, mules onagers, dogs, elephants, rhinoceroses, lions, leopards, cheetahs, sable, ermine, gazelles, marmots, mongeese, weasels, ferrets, hawks, falcons, peacocks, parrots, ostriches and several animals, the ‘Doubtful Ungulates’ or ‘Doubtful Carnivores’, whose name and nature is unclear. These creatures may be mythic, or extinct.
That’s just the animals. If a foreign king sends the Emperor, for instance, an instrument, he will send the musician to play it, in fact, the whole band, actually send the orchestra, the dancers, backstage people, everything. Its not a holiday, they belong to the Emperor now. The palace holds entire third generation micro-communities descended specifically from such ‘gifts’. Throw in prisoners, slaves, (Dwarfs of course), Hostages (the heirs to foreign kingdoms might end up joining one of several ritual palace guard companies), or other skilled workers in materials and crafts.
We haven’t even gotten to the objects. For all the animals, imagine at least ten times the variety of plants, sent to wither or bloom in strange soil, then woods, foods, aromatics, skins, drugs, textiles, pigments, industrial materials, jewels, metals, weapons, lamps, books and sacred texts and yes of course when an Indian king sends a sacred Buddhist text in Sanskrit, he also sends along a sage who will spend the entirety of his life in the T’ang court, translating this One Book into Chinese, in one case with the Empress Wu hanging out directly over his shoulder (she liked to watch him do it).
Those are just the generalities, you must imagine, hidden and skittering amidst these grand illusions of systemic knowledge, just a bunch of weird random shit; a solid gold wine jug in the shape of a great goose, a 100 foot iron pillar holding at its top a ‘fire orb’ carved with the names of the Empress and her greatest Advisors. Asbestos robes.
Magic has no meaning here because everything is a bit magic by western standards. Nothing is ever just material. Amber, born from the coagulated glance of a dying Tiger, works well to seal wounds from weapons. Ground up Jade imparts its irresistible immortality to the taker, ground (whole, not pierced), pearls impart watery blessings. Of course, mysterious and distant foreign cultures, from places where blessings, icons, witches and ghosts are common, know the best ways to draw out these sacred abilities. Everything edible has properties that might verge on ‘magic’, and everything inedible can be made edible, or burnt as incense, or turned into a house, or clothes. Sleeping on a tiger-skin pillow obviously chases away bad dreams, but at some psychic danger to the sleeper. Those oppressed by Ghost Tigers, incubi or sex in dreams will be cured by eating Tiger Meat.
Some treasures have no modern cognate. What was ‘Purple Gold’? Perhaps the same stained metal recovered from the tomb of Tutankhamun? What is ‘Myrobalan Wine’? Black as ink. The several kinds of ‘Dragons blood’, pigments, ointments, medicines and foods, are all the same? What of ‘Gibbons Blood’ pigment?
Excess also shapes the scene; some rare aromatic woods are supplied in such superfluity that, while rich Chinese might burn fragments as incense, and others have perhaps a single box, one noble contracts an entire pavilion from the semiprecious wood, inviting noble guests to midnight smell sessions, walking their aromatic decks, smelling the contents of their wonderful garden, filled with plants from a host of nations.
Imagine living in this. Specifically, in the Imperial Court. It feels like a lurid, lively Gormenghast. What an insane mess of people. How did they live together? The endless rituals, bizarre entertainments, animal, plants, slaves, nobles. That palace guard? Yeah he’s the third-hand heir to an empire somewhere, he’s never actually been there though.
Schafers grasp of his overflowing subject and his ability, and willingness, to connect themes, facts and ideas across reaches of history, make many of these entries, about the most obscure kinds of treasures, little humanist windows, little perfect ink-sketches, of a strange and living world. As an example, here is the full entry for ‘Amber’, not the shortest and by no means the longest;


...

“Amber
The Chinese word for ‘amber,’ *xuo-p’nk, has been pleasantly explained as “tigers soul,” a phrase which has the same pronunciation, the etymology has been rationalized by the tale that the congealing glance of a dying tiger forms the waxy mineral. This reminds us of the Greek notion that amber was the solidified urine of a lynx. But Tuan Ch’eng-shih, our T’ang bibliophile and collector of curiosa, has this to say:
“Some say that when the blood of a dragon goes into the ground it becomes amber. But the record of the Southern Man has it that in the sand at Ning-chou there are snap-waist wasps, and when the bank collapses the wasps come out; the men of that land work on them by burning, and so make amber of them.”
This strange and ambiguous tale seems to contain an allusion to the wasps and other insects, often found encased in amber, but the rest of it is incomprehensible. In any event, “tigers-soul” probably has nothing to do with the word *xuo-p’nk, which seems to represent a loan from some language of western or southern Asia, in its original form something like *xarupah, related to harpax, the “Syrian” form mentioned by Pliny.
Although the legend of the relation between amber and the vital essence of tigers and dragons persisted into medieval times, the true nature of amber has been known since the third century, of not earlier. This scientific knowledge was familiar to the T’ang pharmacologist, and preserved in their compendia. The Basic Herbs of Shu for instance, states; “Amber then as a substance, is the sap of a tree which has gone into the ground, and has been transformed after a thousand years. Even poets knew this truth. Wei Ying-wu’s brief ode to amber embodies it:
Once it was the old ‘deity of chinaroot,’
But at bottom it is the sap of a cold pine tree.
A mosquito or gnat falls into the middle of it,
And after a thousand years may still be seen there.
The ‘deity of chinaroot’ is a precious fungoid drug found among pine roots; it was believed that this was an intermediate stage in the development of amber from pine resin.
The precious resin was known to be a product of Rome, and was imported from Iran. This must have been the famous amber gathered on the shores of the Baltic Sea. But closer at hand was the amber deposit of upper Burma, near Myitkyina (and near the jadeite mines which would be exploited mand centuries later); this material was acquired by the people of Nan-chao, where the nobles wore amber in their ears, like the modern Kachins. There were even gifts of amber from Champa and Japan. A commercial variety brought up by merchants through the South China Sea was thought to be especially fine.
Amber had a part in T’ang jewellery similar to that of coral, that is, it was readily converted into ornaments for ladies, and small but expensive objects of virtu for well-to-do households. Among the objects of Amber in the Shosoin are double six pieces, a fish pendant, rosary beads for a ceremonial crown, and inlays in the back of mirrors. Medicine also had a place for amber, as it had for all precious substances which might conceivably lend their beauty and permanence to the human organism. Venerable pine trees were revered in themselves and fresh pine resin was itself a life-prolonging drug. How much more so must amber be, which was pine resin suitably embalmed by a spiritual preservative. More specifically, it was prescribed for “bad blood” and affusions of blood caused by weapons. In short, recipes based on the ancient idea that amber was coagulated blood continued in use even in the T’ang, despite evidence of better knowledge.
The T’ang poets found ‘amber’ a useful colour word, signifying a translucent red-yellow, and used it particularly as an epithet of ‘wine’. We have already seen it used by Li Po, in our discussion of saffron. A line by Chang Yueh is another case;
“In the Northern Hall they stress the value of amber wine.”
Li Ho, the precarious ninth-century poet, went a step further, and made ‘amber’ stand for ‘wine’ by metonymy. This usage was part and parcel of his well-known interest in colour imagery for the intensification of emotion; he was unique in his abundant use of “golden”, “silvery”, “deep green”, and in the way in which he used “white” to express intense illumination and emotional contrast in landscape descriptions (as in black and white photography, say): “the sky is white,” and even “the autumn wind is white.” Here is his “Have The Wine Brought In!”
In glass-paste stoup
The amber is thick -
From a small vat wine drips - true pearls reddened;
Boiling dragon, roasting phoenix - jadefat dripping.
Net screen, embroidered awning, encircle fragrant wind.
Blow dragon flute!
Strike alligator drum!
Candent teeth sing -
Slender waists dance -
Especially now when blue spring day is going to set,
And peach flowers fall confused like pink rain.
I exhorrt milord to drink besottedness by end of day,
Nor let the wine upset on the earth over Liu Lings grave!
Liu Ling, one of the ancient “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove,” was a notorious winebibber, and bottles were buried with him; to spill wine on the ground now, was a libation, intended or accidental, would be like carrying coals to Newcastle.”

...
Within one entry we go from a discussion on etymology, to a discussion of mythic origins, consideration of foreign word origins, perhaps explained or obscured by a pleasing poetic ‘just so’ story, this then contrasted with apparently already-known origins, this knowledge embodied by an ode, a brief line on some weird drug that never comes up again, a geographic analysis of likely sources of the raw material considering global trade routes, a paragraph on the use of this luxury and its integration with the lives of its final consumers, a loop back round in which magical properties are considered, then finally a little pleasing dive into the use of the ‘idea’ of the material in poetry, its effect on high language, and lastly a line about a famous legendary drunkard.
If this pleases you, then here you are.
This is the sort of ‘Wunderkammer’ book which used to go very hard in the OSR, (when I had any connection to it). Back in the day, bloggers would knife fight a monkey to be the first to post this kind of thing.
Its obvious use as a list of incredible treasures is only the first part. Every aspect of the book suggests adventure, perhaps not of the dungeon-diving variety, but certainly adventures of intrigue, travel and trade, as well as medicine and art. The tantalising but specific hints about the most curious elements of imperial and T’ang life have a vivifying effect, one wants to fill them in, to experience the world they describe. Who wouldn’t want to run into the cosplay steppe-barbarian noble as an NPC? Or Ultimate Smell Guy? Or the Foreign Orchestra Tribe? Or even just they guy in charge of the Elephants?
It is the kind of text that feels like gloves; you want to grasp and manipulate its contents.