28 A TEENAGER CAPTURED BY THE NIAN REBELS Record of a fifteen-week ordeal by Liu Tang 柳堂 (1844–1929)

A Record of Hardship Endured

On the twenty-fifth day of the tenth month of the eighth year of the Xianfeng reign [1858], the Anhui bandits reached our area, which until then had been at peace, the people unfamiliar with war. They thought that the bandits would only kill officials and rob the provincial granaries, so they did not flee to the cities.

With father away in Baidukou on business, mother took the family to her brother’s house in Chenggang for protection. As soon as father heard what had happened, he left his business and joined us. He told most of the family to hide in the rushes by the bay and took my brother and me with him, heading west. Just as we were leaving the village, we met some outlaws who let us pass once we gave them our money. Arriving at the West Guandi Temple, we encountered several more bandits, but were able to get away by giving them our coats. A little farther along the way, once again we came upon a band of bandits. As we no longer had either money or coats, we were forced to accompany them. We spent the night at the Zhu Family Village in Nanguang Barracks in Lütan [Henan]. Seeing fires in our hometown, we looked at each other and wept. That night seemed to last a year.

The banner chief, Yao Fengchun, was from Jia Family Walled Village in Mengcheng County [Anhui], which is about 120 li from Bozhou [Anhui]. Listening to his speech, we could tell he came from a peasant family. They were first harassed by bandits, then by government troops. Since his family was poor and his parents were old, he felt he had no choice but to become a rebel. When he saw his men burning houses and raping women, he stopped them immediately, which made him a rarity among the bandit leaders. He approached Father with the request that one of his sons remain with them. Father wept but said nothing. I knew what was going through his mind: on the one hand, he did not want me to join the outlaws because I was a good student and his favorite son; on the other hand, my older brother was already married, and if he were to go with the bandits and did not return, how could Father face my sister-in-law Zhangshi? Father wept all night but still could not make up his mind. With tears in my eyes, I came to him and said, “I am willing to go with them.” When Father heard this, he wept and looked at my brother, who also broke down and cried. The outlaws were getting ready to leave, and so I climbed into one of their carts and headed out with them toward the south. That was early on the morning of the twenty-sixth.

Later on, the banner chief came and told me, “I have escorted your father and brother to Nantuqiao. Your family and home are safe.” In fact, he had ordered them to start a fire in front of the gate to the house, leaving the inside untouched. When other outlaw groups saw the fire, they believed that gang members had already sacked the place and left thinking there was no more booty to be had.

That night, we camped south of Zhoukou [Henan]. It was already cold at that time of year, and I did not have an overcoat. One of the outlaws entered, bringing with him an unpadded black cloth riding jacket, a blue cotton coat, and white silk-covered cotton trousers. The banner chief urged me to put them on. The cotton coat was too long and dragged on the ground, and the trousers were like a woman’s, hardly an elegant outfit. But I put them on, turning the trousers inside out. In view of the bitter cold weather, I had no choice but to accept these clothes.

Note: In the eighty days I spent with the outlaws, I never had anything like a quilt. These clothes were the only things I had to wear during the day and use to keep warm at night. One day when it was very cold, the bandit’s mother took pity on me and gave me a red rug. The bandits had two horses, which the boy from Cao County [western Shandong] supplied with fodder by cutting grass. I would make a mat of grass to sleep on, sometimes thick, sometimes thin. When it was time to sleep, I unfastened my clothes and laid out my bedding, using my inner garment under me and my upper garment over me, using one sleeve as a pillow, the other to cover my face. This was called “sleeping like an immortal.” The bandits had a saying: “If you master sleeping like an immortal, your whole life you will be able to endure any hardship.” In addition, you don’t feel the cold.

The village was small, but a large number of people had been crowded into it. The only well had dried up. The outlaws had nothing to make tea in, so they took a pottery jar, cut off its top, and put some water from a pit into it and put it on the fire. It took half the night to reach a boil. They added some sugar, which they had gotten from Zhoukou. I took some of this brew to drink. As it was both foul smelling and sweet, I could barely get it down.

Most of the village families had grain, but flour was scarce. The bandits therefore took dry wheat grain, put it on the millstone, ground it down into flour, added water to it, and cooked it. As soon as it was taken off the stove, the cake would fall apart. Even though it was only half-cooked, the bandits fought over it.

Note: I could see that it was a life of hunger and deprivation that had driven these unfortunate men to become bandits. I sensed that in their homes they lacked even this crude cuisine.

For my part, I would not even swallow this food and choked on my tears.

Note: The banner chief, aware that I had not eaten, gave me three pieces of bean curd, which he had brought from the market town.

When the outlaws saw a pig walking along, they caught hold of it, cut off its four legs, skinned them, and put them into the pot to boil in the stinking water from the pit. As soon as the meat lost its bloody color, they consumed it with the pig still squealing.

Once night fell and all was quiet, I went out and squatted beneath a large willow tree pretending to defecate, planning to escape. At just that moment, however, I happened to observe another person trying to make a break for it from another bandit camp. The bandits chased and caught him, then chopped off his head and burned his body. I quietly returned to camp and did not dare even think about escaping after that.

On the twenty-seventh, we camped near Huaidian. We did not move for almost half a day because the neighboring villages put up a resistance. On the twenty-eighth, we arrived at the thirteen forts at Jiuli, on the west bank of the Fei River. The bandit chief ordered every banner unit to send two horsemen and three foot soldiers to encircle the thirteen forts. He also ordered that, first of all, the carts should be brought across the river. This presented problems, as there were no bridges and the banks were quite steep. Thus, the carts had to be unloaded. I got down from the cart and pushed one of the empty carts to the river bank. The banner chief knew I was not good at riding horseback and would have trouble fording the river. To the side was a path [plank bridge?] made by people from the forts, so he motioned for me to go that way. I lost my footing and fell into the water. By the time I was on the other side, my feet were frostbitten because the water was terribly cold, and I did not have a change of socks or shoes. From then on, I was continually plagued with foot problems.

Once I reached the east bank of the river, I turned to look at the forts and saw that there were no carts on the west side. Those who were supposed to lay siege to the forts had all fled, the bandit commander unable to stop them. Meanwhile, there were still lots of carts in the middle of the river. As a consequence, people from the thirteen forts descended in great numbers to chase the outlaws, who abandoned their carts in countless numbers. As soon as my cart got to the top of the bank, the driver, his shirt off, whipped up the horses, and we managed to escape from the tiger’s mouth.

Father always had kept strict discipline at home. Except at New Year’s and other festivals, I had never been allowed to go anywhere. So I knew nothing except what I had learned from books. Outside, I could not even tell the four directions. Once we were on the other side of the river, I overheard the outlaws’ conversation and learned that the thirteen forts on the west bank were all enemies of the outlaws, ready to cut in two those who fell behind. If I had known this earlier, I would not have crossed the river. The outlaws called the thirteen forts the “Old Ox Association,” saying that their members would kill anyone on sight. Therefore, even the captives struggled to get across the river.

I learned the origin of the Old Ox Association. They were a group that trained in the tradition of Niu [Ox] Geng. Although Niu Geng had already died, they still called themselves the Old Ox Association because Niu Geng had long been feared by the bandits. When the bandits saw them while on patrol, they would sound the alarm and shout, “Be careful; don’t fall asleep; be ready for the Old Ox Association from south of the lake.”

On the twenty-ninth, we arrived at the bandits’ base camp, a small village with mud walls. There was a gate on the south side and a narrow wooden suspension bridge that could only be used by people on foot. The majority of the people who lived there were of the Jia family, and so the village was called the Jia Family Walled Village. The banner commander had a two-room thatched cottage, where he lived with his wife and his mother in her eighties. His father had been killed by other bandits. When they heard he had returned home, his relatives all came to see him and, on seeing me, asked about my family background. I was so distraught that I could not answer and cried bitterly.

By that time, I had gone for several days without eating much. When the bandits returned home safely, their relatives were joyful and quickly prepared a feast. I saw what actually constituted such a feast—nothing more than white wheat noodles. I recalled that, when I had as a child come home from school, I would not even consider eating noodles like those. Often, I would not even answer my mother when she asked me what I wanted to eat but would merely go to my study. To me, plain noodles were inedible. What a spoiled child I had been! But now that I had nothing else to eat, I sat down gratefully to a bowl of noodles and thought they tasted delicious! After suffering deprivation and hardship, I ate three bowls of them. I realized that I had been picky because I had never experienced genuine hunger. From that time on, I understood how wrong I had been. After I was released by the bandits, there was nothing I would not eat. Everything tasted delicious to me.

Entering that village was like entering a pitch-black prison, where sunlight doesn’t penetrate. My heart was burdened with a hundred sorrows and a thousand worries, and I had no relatives to turn to. I do not know how many times a day I was reduced to tears.

The banner chief had captured a boy from Cao County. From a peasant family, he cut grass, cared for horses, and collected firewood, working very diligently. By contrast, I did nothing but sit and eat all day, not even smiling. The banner chief’s wife was annoyed by this, but I was able to get the banner chief’s mother, who had a kindly nature, to speak on my behalf, so the wife left me alone.

Among the captives was a boy named Fan from Baligang in Tongxu County [Henan]. Younger than me, he had mastered the Four Books and their commentaries. Sharing hardship, we became friends. I saw him incessantly call the banner chief “Godfather” and ask for money to buy food. I disdained the way he acted and stopped being friends with him. He left the bandits before me. Later, when I took the provincial examinations, I saw his name on a list of those in the bottom group.

When the bandit chief learned I could read, he looked for books in a dozen or more villages but found only one, which turned out to be a dictionary, a sign of the disorder the bandits had caused.

The commanders of the outlaws were called the chiefs. They were ranked as greater and lesser ones. The great chiefs commanded the great banners, each with specific colors. There were several dozen smaller banners under each command banner. Their colors matched those of their respective commanders. The heads of the smaller banners were called lesser chiefs. Each small banner had three to five cavalrymen and ten to twenty infantrymen. A portion of the booty taken by the outlaws was divided among the greater and lesser chiefs. Another part of it was divided equally among the cavalrymen, at two shares each, and part was given to the infantrymen, at one share each.

The great chiefs whom I knew personally were Sun Kuixin, Zhang Lexing, and Liu Gouzi. The one who captured me was in charge of a lesser unit: his superior was his uncle Yao Deguang. He was away in Huaiyuan County [Anhui] with Gong Xiazi and had his kinsman Yao Hua act on his behalf temporarily. There were many chiefs whose names I did not learn. Since the basic bandit organization had five banners, it had five chiefs as well. Furthermore, each banner was subdivided into units named for the five directions: east, west, center, south, and north, and each of these had a chief. Therefore, the basic bandit organization had twenty-five chiefs. When the bandits, by the tens of thousands, advanced, banners covered the field and dust filled the sky. Their weapons, however, were woefully lacking, and the majority of the rank and file were simply hungry men who joined in order to eat.

Yao Xiu was the son of a great chief. I saw him when he returned home from Huaiyuan. He, for one, did look like a bandit. He had a wife, a daughter, and a young son. Whenever the four lesser chiefs returned with booty, he lived very well. His wife was about fifty and not a simple village woman. Although she was married to a bandit, her domestic discipline was very strict. Yao also had a concubine from Guduiji [Henan], whom he had captured in a raid. She wanted to talk with me, but Yao’s wife stopped her. His daughter, Haojie, asked about my family the first time we met. I told her that both of my parents were still alive, which made her sigh deeply. When she inquired about my age, I told her that I was sixteen. She replied that she was seventeen and looked bashful. Her eyes brightened, and she seemed to be thinking of something else. Previously, she had been betrothed to a son of the Wang family, but the Wangs had not joined the bandits, and the two families had subsequently become enemies, so the engagement was broken off. Her mother put an end to our meetings but secretly sent the banner chief to ask me if I was married or engaged and if I would like to settle permanently in the village. I could see they wanted to arrange a marriage between her and me. I answered him frankly, and they did not bring the matter up again.

There was a man named Yao Hu from another village who was of a younger generation than the chief’s family. He therefore called Haojie “aunt” and sometimes jokingly addressed her as “old Wang.” One day they quarreled over some needlework, and Haojie fell to the ground. The banner chief saw this and immediately banned the unfortunate Yao Hu from the premises. All of these incidents gave me new insight into people.

One day the banner chief’s wife made me to go with the boy from Cao County to gather firewood. When I resisted, she said, “Firewood is everywhere. You can cut trees in any village. If anyone asks you who you are or what you are doing, just tell them, ‘Yao Deguang told us to do this.’ You will not have any trouble.” We went to cut some wood from a willow tree, and things went as the chief’s wife had predicted. Later she learned that the great chief’s wife favored me and so stopped asking me to gather firewood.

My daily fare consisted of noodles made from either beans or sorghum, never wheat. I did not have vegetables very often either, with the occasional exception of large green peppers. I did not feel hungry after eating sorghum noodles, but bean noodles, on the other hand, never really filled me up. Nevertheless, I survived and even came to like the porridge made from beans, as it reminded me of what I ate as a child.

The area from the Fei River to Jia Family Walled Village was open land with mixed vegetation occupied by foxes and rabbits, with no sign of people. After several dozen li, one could glimpse an earth mound, which was the village. No family there had more than eight members, as some had been killed by the bandits, others by the government troops. As a result, the people had consolidated several former villages into one new one, around which they built a wall for protection. The land had become uncultivatable, and people had to rely more and more on outside sources for their food supply. Prices rose rapidly; a peck or twelve to thirteen ounces of beans could cost a thousand cash.

In these villages, the worthy people sat and waited to die; the less worthy ones joined the bandits in order to survive. The booty that the bandits collected could never be sold for more than a tiny fraction of its worth. Once, each lesser chief got over twenty thousand from a rich man but spent it all quickly. Even if they spent it all on food, it would not have lasted long. The chiefs would go to every market and spend all of their loot on drinking and horse racing. They also competed with each other in splurging and in this way would squander their money within twenty days. When everything was gone, they would begin pillaging once more. They never used the word “pillage,” however. Instead, they employed the euphemism “going out.” For several days before such a venture, the chiefs would meet to plan their strategy. This was called “setting of banners”: they estimated how many banners would be needed and how they should be deployed.

The Jia Family Walled Village was five li from a dry lake. The area north of the lake was occupied by the bandits, south of it by the Old Ox Association. One day the Old Ox Association crossed the lake to hunt. The bandits did not dare to confront them so simply barred their doors for self-protection. The Old Ox Association did not act hostile, so finally a bandit asked them why they had to cross the lake to hunt. A member of the Old Ox Association replied, “South of the lake is mainly cultivated land. It is very difficult for rabbits to hide and burrow there. On the north side of the lake, however, there is a good deal of wilderness. After a short run with our hunting dogs, we should be able to return to our own side with full bags of game.” There was a deserted three-room house in one of the abandoned villages. The hunters put a net on the doors and set it on fire, with the result that more than a hundred rabbits came out and were trapped in the net. There is a saying that if animals are allowed to reproduce unchecked, they will fill the universe and there will be no room for people. This certainly appears to be the case.

On the twenty-third day of the twelfth month, the bandits planned a secret attack on the Old Ox Association. Everyone who joined up would get a share of the booty. The banner chief’s wife and her cousin Cui wanted to make me go, and I was willing, thinking it might give me an opportunity to escape. Then suddenly my foot problem flared up again. It turned some color between blue and red and gave me unbearable pain. Later the condition was alleviated by bathing the foot in strong alcohol heated on the fire.

During my captivity, the banner chief told me where my father was staying. Zhang Village Fort, New Terrace Market, and so on that he mentioned were all places my father had traveled before. Jia Family Walled Village was only twenty-odd li from Zhang Village, but getting between them was challenging. Father knew he could be followed and captured, so he was careful and never entered the main base of the outlaws. He went to Bozhou, where he met a man named Wang Laoyu who owned a secondhand clothes shop and asked him to find out where I was being held. There was an old man, an uncle of the banner chief, who sold clothes to the shop. He had a son with the bandits, and he acted as a go-between to sell the outlaws’ booty. Father asked him to carry a letter to me.

When I read the letter Father had written, I could not contain my emotions and broke down and wept. The old man told me that Father was in Bozhou and that he intended to visit me after the New Year. He then brought me a brush and ink to write a reply. As I wrote, the old man stood over me and would let me write only that I was fine and that Father should not worry.

A couple of days later, in the middle of the night, the banner chief brought two horses by. He mounted one and ordered me to mount the other. He said he was taking me home but did not want to leave in the daytime for fear that the great chief would object. I felt both joy and fear and was unsure how to respond. I hurried to follow him and leave the site of my captivity. At dawn on the twenty-seventh or twenty-eighth of the twelfth month, we arrived at New Terrace Market. It was thirty li from the village and eighty li from Bozhou. The banner chief settled me at a small inn and told the owner to provide me with food and drink, which he would cover. He said, “Your father will come here to pick you up shortly after the New Year. When you see him, tell him the Yaos treated you well, but if he were to try to repay me with so much as a penny, I would not consider myself a human being.” We bid farewell with tears in our eyes.

There was a man from Bozhou who purchased secondhand clothes and knew that Father was friendly with Wang Laoyu. He suggested that I leave the inn and go with him at once to meet my father, explaining that my father would not dare venture into a bandit haunt such as this inn. At first I was inclined to agree with him, but then on second thought I was afraid that Father might in fact come to the inn and that we would miss each other. How could I bear it if my escape from the bandits resulted in his getting caught by them? Since I had already endured it all for two months, a few more days shouldn’t matter. I therefore turned him down.

On the first day of the first month of the ninth year [1859], the inn owner celebrated the New Year. He brought out rice flour, oil, fuel, and several dozen dumplings and told me to prepare a meal for myself. But I had no experience in cooking and I felt very depressed because it was New Year’s Day and I was still separated from my family. Still, I had to eat something, so I poured water into a pot and put the dumplings into it, but the dumplings became all mushy before I even lit the fuel. I did not know that they should be added only after the water had reached boiling. I started to cry and did not eat them but gave them to the firewood boy. I then kneaded the flour to make oil-cakes, but it stuck to my hands and I could not work it properly, which got me upset again. Someone passing by took pity on me and offered to make the oil-cakes, but he forgot to add the salt, and they came out quite tasteless. Still I ate them to avoid starvation. Fortunately, Father was to arrive in a day or two.

On the second, I was looking to the west to watch for Father when the banner chief’s uncle arrived from the east and told me, “Your father is at Bozhou and will not come here.” He then asked me to go with him. I regretted that I had not listened to the advice of the secondhand clothes dealer. That night we stayed at Zhehe Market, where a lot of people were telling stories and singing. It was crowded, and I cannot remember clearly which ones were outlaws and which were not.

On the third, we arrived at Bozhou, and I was sent directly to Wang Laoyu’s. Because Father had not received precise information concerning my whereabouts, he had gone home on the twenty-eighth of the twelfth month to celebrate the New Year. I was once more reduced to tears. Moreover, Wang thought I might be an imposter and quizzed me extensively to make sure that I was who I said I was. Finally, when my words matched the facts, he led me inside and gave the old man silver. Thus I knew I was being ransomed. When I recalled the banner chief’s words [about not accepting a cent], I wonder whether he had been lying to me or whether it was the old man.

On the fourth, Wang Laoyu came back and said Mr. Li, the headman of East Gate Compound, had heard that a young boy had escaped from the bandits and ordered that he be assigned to work duty unless ten taels of silver were paid. I could only agree to pay. From that point on, they allowed me to do everything in the same way as the others in the family, including eating with them and not avoiding any of them, treating me like family. Today when I remember this, I still have doubts, not knowing whether or not it was true. I cannot help but be grateful. Still, was the request of the East Gate Compound real or not? There was no way to find out.

Note: Later, after I had passed the provincial exams, my elder brother went to Bozhou on business and investigated. Wang Laoyu had already died, and his widow was living alone, without children.

Although I was not yet home, I had learned that no one in my family had died and the house was not destroyed, so I was calmer, merely awaiting the arrival of Father.

The east gate of Bozhou was usually kept closed. If an enemy came up to it, he would be killed. No one reported this to the officials, or if they did, nothing was done about it. Everything outside the east gate was the outlaws’. An official named Bo had gained the local people’s affection. The heads of the gate tower were very powerful. I remember the names of Sun Wulei and Li Zhen.

At that time, the outlaws surrounded the city and attacked it. They used storming shields and scaling ladders, but the guards on the walls drove them back with cannon fire and huge stones. The bodies of the dead bandits filled the moat around the city, yet they did not withdraw. They tried to build a siege tower from which to use their cannon against the walls. But the tower was destroyed by fire even before it was finished. Finally, the outlaws lifted the siege because they concluded that the city was protected by the will of Heaven. Altogether the city was besieged for forty-eight days, during which time the food supplies ran out. If another three days had gone by without the siege being lifted, the defense would have collapsed. That the bandits attributed their failure to Heaven was understandable. Without the goods that the bandits had plundered, there would have been nothing to consume, and if it weren’t for the things they used, they wouldn’t have taken anything. If this city had fallen, the bandits would have kept their loot while sitting around and waiting to die. After the residents refused to surrender during the weeks-long siege, the bandits would not enter even if the gate was opened and they were invited in.

Now the bandits thought that it was Heaven’s intention to protect the city and the tens of thousands of living beings in it. Don’t they know that protecting the several tens of thousands of good people in the city was also protecting the several million robbers and bandits of the middle Yangzi region?

Some people asked me, “The way of Heaven is to reward the good and punish the evil. Why then does Heaven not destroy the bandits?” To this I replied that these people were not born to be bandits. They are forced into it because of hunger and cold. When suffering from hunger and cold, they become bandits; when not suffering, they quit being bandits. After being forced by hunger and cold to become bandits, they are not further forced by hunger and cold to die. Those not quite so desperate can wait for a change in fate so that they can go out and beg for their life or pick up a weapon and fight back. That could provide a chance for Heaven to rescue them by plucking them away from amid these swords and spears and letting them live normal domestic life or join a Buddhist establishment. Those who do not accept pacification and become enemies of the government troops are the true bandits. In that situation, they deserve to be executed. Those who do not become enemies of the government army but whose leaders are as evil as Zhang Lexing, they should also not be forgiven. It was never their true intention to be pacified. If their wish was not genuine, then they were true bandits. But how many true bandits are there in fact? The gentleman recognizes that the charitable measures of the Buddhist establishments serve Heaven’s intentions. As for the muddle-headed, content Mr. Bo, he cannot be said to be an unworthy official in times of disorder. The ancients had a saying, “Muddling through is difficult to achieve.” Mr. Bo is truly capable of muddling through! I regret not knowing his personal name.

On the tenth, Father arrived, and I burst into tears at the sight of him. After a couple days’ rest, on the twelfth we rented a small cart to take us home, taking turns riding in it. Although I did not have to walk much, I developed blisters on my feet since the old wounds had not yet fully healed.

On the fifteenth, we arrived at Jidong and saw people repairing the stockade. As we walked along the streets, we could see that half of the houses had been burned down. It certainly looked nothing like it had, and I could not help feeling disheartened. When we got home and I saw Mother, I kowtowed to her with mixed feelings of sorrow and joy. Recalling my miserable experiences with the outlaws, I started to cry all over again. All of our relatives and neighbors came over to see me, but I could not respond to their kindness. My only thought was that I had escaped death.

On the other hand, had I never experienced this travail, I might have been satisfied with myself and concerned only with getting enough to eat. Perhaps I would have become degenerate like young Fan [whom I met while a captive]. Therefore, when I told my story, I recalled my earlier life with tears of regret. There were times when I sighed and asked Heaven why it had been so cruel to me. But on finishing this account, I feel calm and know that I should not complain about my fate. Heaven in fact has been very kind to me. I suffered a harrowing experience but was formed by it. The ancients indeed were not deceiving us [in writing about Heaven].

Recorded by Liu Tang of Fugou in the first month of the jiachen year [1859].

SOURCE: Liu Tang 柳堂, Bijian tang quanji 筆諫堂全集, reproduced in Nianjun 捻軍, ed. Fan Wenlan 范文瀾 et al. (Shanghai: Shenzhou Guoguangshe, 1953), 1:348–55.

Further Reading

• Huntington, Rania. “Chaos, Memory, and Genre: Anecdotal Recollections of the Taiping Rebellion.” Chinese Literature, Essays, Articles, Reviews 27 (2005): 59–91.
• Perry, Elizabeth J. Rebels and Revolutionaries in North China, 1845–1945. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1980.
• Rowe, William T. China’s Last Empire: The Great Qing. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009.
• Zhang, Daye. The World of a Tiny Insect: A Memoir of the Taiping Rebellion and Its Aftermath. Translated by Xiaofei Tian. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2013.