The History of China - #119 - Tang 31: Reap the Whirlwind

Episode Date: March 15, 2017

The poison seeds that have been planted across China for the last century and longer will all begin to sprout, as the rebel commander Huang Chao takes command of the latest and greatest of internal threats to imperial stability. Yet it won't be the rebels themselves that will prove the decisive factor in the chaos to come... but instead the Empire's own supposedly "loyal" generals and soldiers... already looking ahead to their own places in the post-Tang world. Time Period Covered: 878-882 CE Major Historical Figures: Tang Dynasty: Emperor Xizong of Tang (Li Yan/Xuan) [r. 874-888] General Zhang Zimian Governor-General Li Tiao of Guangdong [d. 879] General Gao Pian, "The General Who Lost the North" Xi Dynasty: Huang Chao, "The Heaven-Storming General" [d. 884] Sources Referenced: Levy, Howard S. (1955). Biography of Huang Ch'ao Somers, Robert M. (2008). "The end of the T'ang" in The Cambridge History of China, vol. 3: Sui and T'ang China, 589–906 AD, Part One(ed. Denis C. Twitchett) Wei, Chuang(881). "Lament of the Lady of Qin"(tr. Lionel Giles) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. TD Direct Investing offers live support. So whether you're a newbie or a seasoned pro, you can make your investing steps count. And if you're like me and think a TFSA stands for Total Fund Savings Adventure, maybe reach out to the History of China. Episode 119, Reap the Whirlwind.

Last time, we followed the early stages of the bandit rebellions that had sprung up in the lower Yellow and Huai River valleys in the 870s, led by none other than Wang Xianzhi and Huang Chao. We'd ended off with the death of General Wang Xianzhi at the hands of the Imperial sub-commander Zeng Yuanyu in mid-878, which left the rebel forces in near total disarray, and only Huang Chao left to carry on the raiding and plundering of the Chinese countryside. Today, then, we'll pick up right where we left off, with Huang Chao now in sole command of the rebel forces of the Huai River Valley, and having proclaimed himself Chongtian Da Jiangjun, or the Heaven-Storming General. Professor Robert Summers gives us some clue as to the meaning behind Huang Chao taking up such a title. He writes that it might have been intended to show a decision on the rebel generals' part to, quote, wage all-out warfare

against the dynasty, end quote, a decision that, as we mentioned last time, would have been a near total 180 from what these bandit rebels had been pursuing this whole time up until now. Prior to 878, generals Huang and Huang's goals had been virtually identical to prior rebel commanders in the 860s, namely raid and plunder until the government offered up a sweet enough deal to quit, and then take up whatever cushy imperial post was on offer. Heck, Wang Xianzhe had only turned down just such a deal from the Tang government because his own men, Huang Chao included, threatened to kill him where he stood if he had gone and accepted it. Regardless of what Huang's intentions might have been in 878, though, the reality on the ground that year was that any kind of all-out warfare against the state,

with his ragtag bunch of brigands and thieves, stood about as much chance as a snowball in hell. Over the course of the year, his rebel army found themselves engaged in a string of costly defeats against imperial forces in encounters described as skirmishes, suggesting that even relatively minor imperial armies were proving themselves more than capable of hammering back at the disorganized rebels. In any event, it is clear that if General Hong had held any designs on a full-on direct confrontation with the government, it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Nevertheless, it's indicative of his resolve that over the course of a correspondence with the Governor-General of the Tianping Circuit, when offered a generalship in the Imperial Guard in exchange for his surrender, Huang

Chao declined the offer. It seems likely, though, that this was far more out of fear at possible government duplicity than it would have been any principled stand. So here it might be best to pause for a minute and explore a bit more about this figure who's taken up the reins of this latest and greatest of rebellions against imperial authority. And I say take a minute because background info on the guy is sadly, but unsurprisingly, thin. Huang Chao's date of birth is unknown, but his family had made a name for themselves for generations by his lifetime as salt smugglers throughout Shandong province, a lucrative, if highly illegal trade, given the government's salt monopoly, that had resulted in the Huang family becoming very wealthy. Wealthy enough, apparently, to see that Huang Chao was well

educated in spite of his ostensibly peasant background, and in spite of the fact that he wasn't even the oldest son of his family. Early in life, it seems that he'd prepared to take the Tang official examinations, and actually had on several occasions, but had been failed in each attempt. Nonetheless, he's written of as being capable in swordsmanship, horseback riding, archery, as well as writing and public speaking. With his way into the officialdom blocked, however, Huang Zhao had taken up his family's trade of salt privateering, and utilized his family's illicit fortune to build up a base of unemployed young men to follow and serve as his private army. And this is the group of ruffians that would form the basis of his rebel army as it stands now. In the present 878, though, it was more than obvious day by day that northern China

was out of play. The central government had managed to rally and recover from its lackadaisical and confused muddle of the early rebellion, and had replaced most of the command staff that had been so disastrous to the early war effort. It likewise seemed to have finally come to the understanding that it would need to guarantee rewards to its generals, not just punishments, if they were to be expected to adequately pursue victory rather than just stalemate to the conflict. I should note that it's indicative of the dismal state of the Tang's popularity among the military command staff that the court felt compelled to essentially bribe their own generals in order to just get them to try and actually win. The new commander-in-chief of the imperial armies, Zhang Zimian,

relentlessly pursued Huang Chao's forces westward through Henan, driving them towards the secondary capital, Luoyang. However, whereas the last time the rebels had approached the capital, it had sent the Tang government into panicked spasms, this time it was more than ready. An army of some 10,000 was stationed within the mountain pass that the rebels would need to breach in order to make any attempt on the city, and with the Imperial command hot on his heels, Huang Chao knew that he could spare neither the men nor the time to test his luck. Instead, he turned south, once again drastically changing his tactics and moving into the Yangtze River Delta, the region around modern Shanghai.

Rich though the region was, it would not prove to be Huang Chao's objective. Instead, he pressed his men yet further, crossing the Great River into South China proper, the first time that any major bandit group had pressed so far to the south. It's important to understand that though today southern China stands in population, wealth, and culture as northern China's equal, if perhaps not superior, even in the late Tang, the south was still considered a largely empty wildlands with relatively little to offer. This can be explained by the fact that in the eyes of the imperial court and the officialdom as a whole, importance and prestige was tied directly to how physically close to the capital,

and thus the emperor, an area was. This is why the border commands were so disdained that they were for the most part given away to foreign generals to command. The governorship of Hainan Island in the South Sea, for instance, was widely understood as the absolute nadir of Tang officialdom, a place of shame and exile in all but name. With that in mind, it's much easier to understand how and why the Tang court would have viewed Huang Chao's flight to the south as them essentially washing their hands of the problem. He was out of their hair, and thus off their minds. And they must have felt that the situation was pretty much resolving itself. Let him and his bandits go bother someone else, just as long as it's not us.

Again, from Summers, quote, The bandit gangs remained generally on the defensive during the remainder of 878, though they won some minor victories in the undefended area south of the Yangtze. However, they were now far from the capital, and Huang Chao seemed a fading threat. The chief ministers now fell into bitter wrangles over foreign policy towards Nanjiao, and were faced with a more immediate threat

from the securely established and expansionistic Xiatuo Turks in the north, end quote. In other words, out of sight, out of mind. As Huang Chao's army continued south through the mountains of Fuzhou, the government went so far as to suspend his bandit suppression campaign in the ninth month of the year entirely. Arduous and difficult, though Huang Chao's journey through the southern mountains must have been, it would prove only the first leg of a far longer march across the southlands. Some historians have interpreted this largely unchallenged ranging across the southern empire to be evidence of Huang Chao holding some enormous amount of power. However, given the fact that his movements were based on not being powerful enough

to directly confront the central government, that explanation seems unlikely. The suspicion is furthered by the fact that Huang was actively seeking support from the southern gentry as he moved, and with his entreaties almost universally rebuffed by the officials, a testament to his own lack of power rather than some abundance of it. Whatever his motivations, though, his target was clear. The one region of the far south truly worth attacking, the great trading port of Guangzhou. His army would arrive at the outskirts of the southern city in the fifth month of 879, after an at least eight-month-long cross-country march. Even now, he was still sending out messages and envoys to the various regional governors, seeking favorable terms of surrender.

Specifically, he asked to be named the Governor-General of Guangdong. His request, however, was refused, with the imperial court countering with an offer to a minor staff position within the imperial guard, a counteroffer that Huang Xiao took as nothing less than a personal insult. In what is described as a fury, he launched his attack on the province of Guangdong. In short order, Huang had managed to capture Guangdong's governor-general in battle, and once again attempted to squeeze out of him a favorable set of terms for his own surrender, namely, give me the governorship.

Governor Li, however, once again refused, showing what Summers put as, quote, a fierce and rare loyalty to the dynasty, end quote. For his brave, and one might argue foolish, intransigence, the governor was killed by Huang Chao, who then proceeded to unleash his army on the province the empire still refused to give him. Guangzhou was in the late 9th century quite similar in its economic focus and international outlook as it is today. A bustling multinational trade hub of the South Pacific, it boasted a population in 789 of as many as 200,000 foreign permanent residents, hailing primarily from India, Indochina, Persia, and Arabia. These foreigners were chiefly

importers and exporters, and many had become tremendously wealthy from their business in Tang China. Unfortunately for them, both their foreignness and their accumulated wealth would render them among the prime targets of the Huangqiao bandits as they descended upon the unprepared port city. We have one, first, and several second-hand accounts of the depravity that ensued in what has come to be known as the Guangzhou Massacre. First and foremost is the telling from the Arab writer, who was a contemporary and witness to the event, Abu Zaid Hassan al-Sarafi.

He wrote of the slaughter, quote, Supplies to Guangzhou from the Arab countries have been cut off for it. The land has been ravaged, its customs have vanished, and its authority has been scattered. I shall explain what has happened to it, and the cause for the critical situation, if God be willing. The cause for the change of condition in China, from what has been from the standpoint of law and justice, and the cutting off of supplies, was that there arose amongst them one outside the royal family, who was known as Ban Xu, meaning Huang Chao. His affairs began with cunning, impetuous youthfulness, and bearing of arms, mischief,

and the assembling of rogues around him, until trenchancy became intensified and his numbers multiplied. Then his greediness became obsessive, and he headed for Canfu, meaning Guangzhou, one of the Chinese cities. Then the inhabitants opposed him, and he besieged them for a long while, until he triumphed over it. Then he put its inhabitants to the sword, and men experienced End quote. The amount of the numbers of these four sects was known only because of their taxation by Chinese people according to their numbers." Now once again, according to these numbers, the total foreign population of Guangzhou prior to this incident was around 200,000, meaning that as many as 60% of all of them were killed by the Huangcha rebels. Zaid also takes care to mention that the region's crop of mulberry trees were

destroyed en masse by the rebel army, which seems at first glance rather ludicrous on the heels of what he just described. Yes, the rebels came in and killed hundreds of thousands, but also the mulberry trees. In actuality, though, such property destruction might have been just as devastating to the economy of the region as the sheer loss of life. Mulberry trees are the sole food source for silkworms, and without them, we might expect there to have been a crash in the silk market of the region, and given silk's central and pivotal role in the Tang Empire's economy, the already vulnerable economy as a whole as well. Curiously, the account of Abu Sayyid is the only one we have to go on for such figures.

No official Chinese source mentions a massacre of any kind at Guangzhou. So why the discrepancy? Well, it's possible that such an omission might have had to do with Chinese officials wishing to avoid scaring off future foreign investments through an admission that they'd insufficiently protected, you know, an entire city's worth of foreign merchants from murderous rebels. Of course, it's also possible that Abu Saeed's account is not trustworthy. There's enough discrepancies in the whole dating of such events, after all. Saeed, for instance, mentioning that the date of the massacre was a full year before Huang Chao was supposed to have actually arrived at Guangzhou, so it's impossible to be certain. As remains

unfortunately typical for this era, reliable sources are few and far between, and fragmented besides. For our purposes, though, it doesn't particularly matter whether the Guangzhou massacre happened as stated or not. In any case, all sources agree that when Huang Chao arrived in Guangdong, it wasn't to be for long. If it might be some consolation to the ravaged population of the city, the rebels didn't escape the region untouched either. The classic defender of the Southlands, that of tropical disease, reared its ugly head to devastate the rebel ranks in bouts of malaria that killed a sizable chunk of Huang's force, perhaps in the range of 30 to 40%.

The imperial court at Chang'an had also roused itself following the events at Guangzhou, and had anticipated that Huang Chao's stay in the south would be temporary at most, and therefore had stationed a large imperial force to intercept the rebels at the prefectural city of Panzhou in Hunan province, along Huang Chao's likely return path. The commanding officer of the garrison force, however, Deputy Commander Li Shi, refused to fight the approaching rebel force, resulting in Huang Chao taking control of the city over the course of a single day.

Summers writes, This disastrous cowardice by an incompetent military commander, chosen not for his ability, but on the basis of his family's ties with the dynasty, was a major setback to the efforts to contain Huang Chao, end quote. He goes on to point out that had the commander of Tanzhou been someone with spine enough to have actually hit Huang Chao hard then and there, the rebel force was so weakened by disease and hard marching that there was, quote, a real chance of final victory, end quote. Instead, Huangqiao and his armies were allowed to continue northward, virtually unopposed. Not to say that

Lieutenant Commander Li Xi stands alone in his ignominy. To the contrary, he is but one link in the chain of blundering incompetence that the Tang officer corps seems to have been made of at the time. Li Shi's superior officer, for instance, Commander Wang To, would faceplant himself shortly after the capture of Tan Zhou, when he straight up abandoned the strategic center of the entire middle Yangtze River valley, Jiangling City. Now, at least according to reports, he initially had intended to re-encamp in the smaller city of Qingmun, which was just 30 miles to the north,

but somehow had managed to miss that mark so completely that he wound up retreating more than 100 miles north of Jiangling City. Meanwhile, the officer he'd left in charge of the city garrison went ahead and just outright defected to the rebels and looted and abandoned the city well before Huang Chao's army had even arrived. Thus it was that the rebel force continued its northward push, crossing the Yangtze River and making for the city of Qingmun. There they'd encounter another setback when a combined force of Chinese infantry and 500 Turkic cavalry wiped the floor with the rebel army and sent them fleeing from

the city. Yet even in victory, the Tang army commanders seemed determined to tie their own shoelaces together. Summers writes, quote, Many of Huang Chao's men were killed, but rather than pursue and eliminate the remainder as he was urged to do, General Liu Jurong simply let them go. His reasons reflect the loss of support for the dynasty and the provinces. The Tang, he observed, exploit people. In times of danger, it gives generous rewards, but when peace comes, so do punishments. The best plan is to let the bandits go and wait for later good fortune, end quote. So let's just let that sink in a minute.

The officer of the government's own army, fresh off of a crushing defeat against the rebels, opted to let them go because he's actively hoping that they, ostensibly his enemies, will actually prevail in their struggle over the dynastic government. Summers points out that Leo's hostility toward his own government likely sprung from the same source as earlier Tong commanders' hesitance to decisively defeat rebels. That is, the justifiable fear that in victory their value would plummet in the eyes of the imperial court, and they'd be then vulnerable to the same kind of career hack job that had happened to the anti-rebel commanders a decade prior. Regardless, Huang Chao realized that the latest defeat meant that he had nowhere

near the manpower to march directly on Chang'an, and so instead turned his army eastward to follow the flow of the Yangtze River. Though he was pursued for a time by yet another imperial force commander, this too would be foiled by the government's own hand when they suddenly recalled the commander for reasons unknown, thereby allowing Huang Chao to once again slip away. History isn't black and white, yet too often it's presented as such. Grey History the French Revolution is a long-form history podcast dedicated to exploring the ambiguities and nuances of the past. By contrasting both the experiences of contemporaries and the conclusions of historians, Grey History dives into the detail and unpacks one of the most important and disputed events in human history. From a revolution based on hope and liberty,

to its descent into the infamous reign of terror, there's plenty to discuss, and plenty of grey to explore. One can't understand the modern world without understanding the French Revolution. So if you're looking for your next long-form, binge-worthy history podcast, one recommended by universities and loved by enthusiasts, then check out Grey History, The French Revolution today, or out Grey History The French Revolution today. Or simply search for the French Revolution. The next Imperial Army commander that the rebels will come up against will be something of a different story to these desk jockey bunglers that he's been lucky enough to face so far. And so, he is worth a closer look.

Hailing from the northeast coasts of the Bohai Sea between China and Korea, his father and grandfather had both served with distinction as generals within the Shunzi army. Gao Pian himself had earned fame and prestige in his own right following highly successful campaigns against first Tibetan raids to the west, then against the ever-troublesome Nanjiao Kingdom to the far south, and as of late, a successful career as a bandit fighter during his tenure as the Governor General of Zhenhai. Now in late 879, he had moved his powerful army into the lower Yangtze region in order to cut off and decisively defeat the Huangqiao rebels. The two forces would clash

early the following year, resulting in a string of major defeats for the rebels. The two forces would clash early the following year, resulting in a string of major defeats for the rebels. In the fourth month of 880, government reinforcements had swelled General Gao's army to more than 70,000 strong, which proved itself more than a match for the numerically superior but far less trained rebel force. It seemed that Huang Chao's nine lives had finally run out, and he now faced down a final defeat on the plains of the lower Yangtze. And yet, bafflingly, this did not take place. Once again from Summers, quote, By the fourth month of 880, the bandits seemed on the verge of total defeat.

Everything appeared to favor the government forces, whose commanders repeatedly sent reports of victory to the capital. This situation changed radically during the fifth month of 880. The events of this crucial period have provoked intense speculation concerning the conduct of the entire campaign against Huangqiao, and many of the points will always remain obscure. What is certain, however, is that Huangqiao was able to escape what seemed almost certain defeat, to break through the Tang defenses on the lower Yangtze, and to begin his march toward the northern capitals, end quote. Wait, what? Once again, it seems that just plain old self-interest and a fundamental breakdown between

the goals of the military commanders and the government that they supposedly served was to blame for this otherwise incomprehensible turn of events. Huang Chao was to find that a well-placed bribe could open doors that were otherwise sealed tightly. He sent an enormous sum of gold to one of Gao Pian's lieutenants, who had by that point inflicted several defeats upon the rebel commander, as well as a message begging for the opportunity to surrender to General Gao in exchange for an appointment to a military governorship of his own. Gao agreed, and whether or not he planned to honor such an agreement is still very much up in the air. But then he fell victim to a great sin of generals everywhere, that of hubris. Again from Summers, quote, according to this version of events, then accepted Huang Chao's offer of surrender, but was unwilling to share the credit with the commanders of other units taking part in the

campaign. He therefore sent those units back to their home provinces. When Huang Chao heard that these troops had been detached and were already north of the Huai River, he broke off his relations with Gao Pian, and in a major battle which ensued, Gao's top general, Zhang Lin, was killed and his troops badly defeated. End quote. And that just goes to show you, in the words of the great Yogi Berra, it ain't over till it's over. Pro tip, don't send your armies home until they've actually won the war. With his top lieutenant dead, and his forces in disarray, Gao Pian would, shockingly, prove unable to stop Huang Chao

from completing his crossing of the Yangtze once again into northern China. But not only that, General Gao seems to have been struck with a case of blue screen of death because he failed to even send support to the north as the rebel army advanced upon Luoyang. For this especially, General Gao managed to completely unmake his previous reputation as successful field commander and would go down into the historical annals as a total bungler who had, quote, allowed a badly weakened army to make a vital crossing of the Yangtze and then march unchallenged through his territory, end quote. Yeah, it'd be pretty hard to recover from that kind of a reputation. In the short term, though, he would manage to stave off immediate condemnation by

reporting that he had valiantly attempted to stop the rebel advance, but had been overwhelmed by its sheer size, a number that he put in his official report to the tune of 600,000 rebel troops, which is, of course, absolutely ludicrous, and would later serve to condemn his memory all the more when it became clear just how self-serving his actions were. Now north of the Yangtze, and with the largest imperial army yet assembled against him, apparently frozen on the far side and not giving chase, Huang Chao found that his path to the secondary capital lay wide open before him. There were several scattered attempts by the Tang regime to organize some kind of a force to prevent his advance, but Huang Xiao was able to sweep these minuscule levies, the

largest one reported as being a measly 3,000 soldiers, aside with ease. In several cases, in fact, the troops assembled to combat the rebels, understanding that it was suicide to do so, simply rebelled against their officers and sacked the cities that they'd been charged to defend ahead of the rebels' advance before running off into the hills. There was quite simply no meaningful force left to challenge or even delay Huang Chao's advance on the now helpless Luoyang. It's unsurprising, then, that it seems to be around this time that Huang Chao, the heaven-storming general, began to get it into his head

that he just might carry this whole rebellion thing through to completion, and dare he think it, maybe actually replace the ancient and decrepit Tang dynasty with one of his own. Just prior to entering the secondary capital, he declared a new reign era of his own, the era of Wang Ba, which, to be clear, was pretty much the most blatant possible declaration of independence from the Tang regime as one could possibly make. Only emperors were allowed to have their reign eras, and as of 880, Huang Chao had declared himself as such in all but name. In the 11th month, his force would enter and take control of Luoyang, which made no attempt to put up a defense or repel the force, but instead simply

opened its city gates to the rebels while sending a solemn missive to Chang'an that the capital had fallen and was lost, and that they really should think about strengthening Chang'an's own defenses. The aspect of this whole march to Luoyang that really sticks out as indicative of this whole time period is not the actual advance of Huang Chao's army, however. By all accounts, if anyone in the imperial army had actually bothered to do their job, it sounds like that by the time Huang Chao had made it to the southern banks of the Yangtze River, a stiff breeze could have knocked his army over, much less a determined push by an enemy army actually committed to victory. And yet, in spite of the rebels' weakness on the open battlefield, which we've seen time and

again as they get hammered and hammered again, the decisive factor is pretty clearly the fact that the so-called loyalist imperial commanders were far too busy shoring up their own regional power bases and preparing for their own individual places in the post-Tong world to bother trying to save the regime at all. The imperial commanders simply refused to engage the rebel force, or let them run off for a group and continue on their merry way without even giving so much as a chase. This is put on full display by the surrender without so much as a fight by Luoyang. It seems that pretty much everyone had lost confidence in even the notion that the Tang empire was worth saving, and instead

now planned to carve out a piece of the pie all for themselves. But what about that most elite, best of the best force that belonged to the palace itself, the fabled Shen Si Army, that of the divine strategy? Well, that fabled reputation may once have been deserved, but certainly no longer. From Summers, Most of them had no experience of fighting, apart from terrorizing the civilian populations of the capital. When it became apparent that they might have to fight the rebels, many of them went into the poor sections of the city to hire substitutes. We might imagine that they then went straight home to go hide under their covers and suck their thumbs. The defense of Chang'an, if we can really even call it that, went just about how you might expect.

The emperor's chief eunuch and nominal head of the Shenzhen army, Tian Lingzi, decided that he would command the armies just fine from inside the capital, thank you very much, and instead sent out one of his lieutenants at the head of a force of several thousand to go and block up the Dongguan Pass that would make or break the defense of the capital. I'm sure you'll do fine, guys. However, both Tian and his lieutenant failed to provision such a defense force for more than a few days. By the time this army of raw substitute recruits encountered the rebel force in earnest, by which point we might well assume that they'd been low on rations for some time, they did little more than panic and run away, leaving Dongguan Pass

a wide open door for Huang Chao to pass through into the capital plains of Guannan. Once within, the rebel ranks were further swelled by mutinous soldiers of the Boye Army, which had rather ironically recently been called in in order to defend Chang'an. Thus, it was that on the fifth day of the twelfth month of 880, Chang'an fell to Huang Chao's rebel army. Emperor Shizong, as we might well imagine, must have been absolutely horrified by the situation taking place before him. He was now the first emperor in more than a century to face his capital city being overrun by rebels, and worse yet, this time not by the most powerful border army in the empire commanded by the finest general of his generation, but by a horde of thieves and pirates

commanded by a salt smuggler with delusions of grandeur. Embarrassing could not have even begun to scratch the surface. And yet, here he was. The emperor was secreted away from the city in the dead of night, just ahead of Huang Chao's arrival, and accompanied only with a small retinue of his family and closest advisors, as well as 500 Shunzi guardmen. His destination would be the same as Xuanzong, the last emperor to flee his capital ahead of General An Lushan's advance, the mighty fortress city on the edge of the world, Chengdu, Sichuan. This decision to flee more than 650 miles away and to the home district of his chief eunuch, thus putting him fully within the official's power, to quote Summers,

must have represented to most people the end of any hope of a Tang recovery, at least under Xizong. End quote. In stark contrast, Huang Chao's entrance into the city of Chang'an, the literal crown jewel of the empire, was a sight to behold. From the Cambridge History of China, quote, Huang Chao approached first, seated in a golden carriage. The army of followers, by this time several hundred thousand in number, all wearing brocades and with their hair uniformly tied with red silk bands, came behind. His cavalry marched directly into the city, while baggage wagons filled the roads for miles behind them. The residents of the capital, passive but unafraid, crowded into the streets to watch the takeover. End quote. Quickly following

this impressive entrance into the grand city, Huang's chief spokesman issued a proclamation urging the people to remain calm and claiming that they had come on behalf of the people to rescue them all from the hopelessly out-of-touch Tang rulers that had subjugated them for so long. Nice words, to be sure, but all too swiftly proven to be as empty as most other self-justifying proclamations. Immediately prior to their entrance into the capital, Huang Chao had attempted to instill a sense of discipline and order into his troops. After all, more and more his intentions had morphed into

wanting to rule from the jewel of the empire, and to establish his family line as the preeminent clan in all of China, not simply to loot and pillage the city, as had once been his raison d'etre. Yet in that high-mindedness he was, sadly, alone. His men, on the other hand, were still the exact same horde of pirates and bandits that they'd ever been, and no silly little speech by their so-called boss was going to suppress that innate tendency for long. They followed Huang Chao out of no high-minded idealism, after all, but for one very simple, very attainable reason, the promise of loot, plenty of it, and at regular intervals.

And now they held the richest and most succulent prize of all in their very grasp. And what, they were supposed to just not juice it dry? Fat chance. For days on end, the capital burned as it was systematically plundered and its residents murdered in the streets and in their homes. All, of course, in spite of Huang Chao's strenuous, but completely ineffective ineffective protestations. In the midst of such anarchy, it's likewise unsurprising that many of the long put-upon citizens enacted a bit of summary mob justice of their own on those elites who had for so long stamped down upon the populace at large.

The most hated and infamous were dragged out into the streets and killed where they stood, amid jeers and cheers, while those with any brains about them fled as fast as they could, leaving behind whatever remained of their estates and fortunes for the mob to sift through. It's an extremely intriguing situation that gripped the capital in the wake of its capture, the bandit rebels instilling a background of lawless randomized terror while the population of the city itself seemed to have been reveling in the opportunity that finally presented itself to take a long-await reveling in the opportunity that finally presented itself to take a long-awaited revenge on the elite that had taken advantage of them for so long.

This was certainly not the most auspicious of circumstances to try establishing an entirely new dynastic order upon. Heaven itself certainly seemed to remain hopelessly out of balance, and its very iteration on earth, the city of eternal peace, burned around Huang Chao as he ascended to the throne on the 13th day of the 12th month of 880. The optics, of course, were all wrong, and yet nevertheless ascend he did, proclaiming the advent of the great Qi dynasty, with himself, of course, as its divinely ordained center spoke. But the optics were all wrong. And perhaps Huang ought to have paid them a bit more mind,

because in his attempt to establish a viable regime to supplant the Tang, his would prove an abject failure. It's certainly not for lack of trying. He kept on much of the previous regime's officialdom, in fact dismissing only the topmost ranks, while all officials of the fourth rank and below were permitted to retain the titles and positions, so long as they showed themselves willing to aid this new regime. Yet it's one thing to appropriate the component pieces of a previous regime, but quite another to actually make it function. Huang Chao had come into possession of 65% of a car engine that had stopped working decades ago, and yet was now trying to get the thing to turn

over on the first try. According to Summers, quote, his basic problem lay with his own men, who were neither willing nor able to fill civil posts, while the former Tang officials agreed to And then there was the whole learning curve of figuring out that one cannot run a government, much less a city, as though it were a military. In this, Huang Chao's new regime proved itself appallingly, fatally tone-deaf in response to criticism. In the spring of 882, in one particularly brutal instance, someone wrote a poem on the main gate of the Department of State Affairs that dared ridicule the regime. The response by the regime was beyond the pale in its overreaction. Huang's chief lieutenant ordered that all officials serving the pale in its overreaction. Huang's chief lieutenant ordered that all officials serving the department in question have their eyes plucked out before being

publicly hanged, so too all of the soldiers who'd been assigned to guard the gate, so too all residents of the capital known to compose poetry and conscripting all other literary persons as unpaid menial labor to the regime. In all, this single incident prompted the deaths of more than 3,000 residents of the capital, and single-handedly managed to ensure that the so-called Great Qi Dynasty would know neither peace nor stability over the course of its brief, unhappy tenure in Chang'an. Today, though, we're going to end off with a depiction of Huang Chao's period in Chang'an by someone who lived through it. And given the brutal reaction against critical poems,

it is with a near-perfect sense of irony that one of the best depictions of the brutality faced by the denizens of the great city would be captured in poetry by one of the great contemporary Tang poets, Wei Zhuang, entitled Lament of the Lady of Qin. In it, he depicts the buildup to Clash Within and finally brutal aftermath of the Huang rebels' occupation of the great capital. A tale, in the words of E.H. Schaeffer,

of arson, pillage, rape, and cannibalism, of rustics masquerading as ministers, of aristocratic bodies sunk in mud and blood. End quote. This is a section from the middle of the very long work called Desolation of the City After the Storm, showing the atrocious situation of the residents following the city's capture. Quote, After this, great misery and distress prevail on every side. A bushel of gold is the price of a single peck of grain. In Xiang Rong's kitchen, the bark of trees is used as food.

On Huang Chao's table, human flesh is carved. Communication is cut off from the southeast, and there is no road for supplies. Gradually, the ditches and streams are choked up while the population dwindles. Stiffening corpses lie in heaps outside the Lijun Gate, and the Qizhak camp is strewn with those who have starved to death. Chang'an lies in mournful stillness. What does it now contain? Ruined markets and desolate streets, in which ears of wheat are sprouting. Fuel gatherers have hacked down every flowering plant in the apricot gardens.

Builders of barricades have destroyed the willows along the imperial canal. All the pomp and magnificence of the olden days are buried and passed away. Only a dreary waste meets the eye. The old familiar objects are no more. The inner treasury is burnt down, its tapestries and embroideries a heap of ashes. All along the street of heaven, one treads on the bones of state officials. The inner treasury is burnt down, its tapestries and embroideries a heap of ashes. All along the street of heaven, one treads on the bones of state officials. End quote. The tale goes on and on about the ruined countryside outside the capital,

and all along the road to Luoyang. Of virginal maidens who threw themselves down wells rather than allowing themselves to be captured and ravished by the rebels. Of old men reduced to begging, and of the reports coming in from the other provinces of the empire of further slaughter and chaos. It's a truly harrowing account of the horror so many faced at the time. Wei Zhong ends his lament with the lines, quote, The city of Chang'an, once one of the jewels of the whole world, would never recover from Huang Chao's devastating period of occupation. Such was the so-called New Order of the Great Qi Dynasty.

Next time, though, Emperor Shizong might be down, but he's not yet out, and we'll strike back from the mountains of Sichuan in a final, desperate bid to reclaim whatever might remain of his capital, his throne, and his empire, as all three continue to crumble and burn around him. Thanks for listening. Have you ever gazed in wonder at the Great Pyramid? Have you marveled at the golden face of Tutankhamun? Or admired the delicate features of Queen Nefertiti. If you have, you'll probably like the History of Egypt podcast. Every week, we explore tales of this ancient culture. The History of Egypt is available wherever you get your podcasting fix.

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