Chapter Thirty-Eight: Commercial Taxes (Celebrating the Birth of the First Helmsman, "His Majesty Personally Manages State Affairs")

Zhu Youxiao sat comfortably on the imperial throne, watching as the ministers argued heatedly, their faces flushed with anger, and his heart bloomed with delight. In the past, the ministers spoke with one voice, and he could only serve as a rubber stamp; but now, with differing opinions among them, he, as the emperor, had become the object both sides sought to win over.

The members of the Grand Secretariat did not personally join the fray; Fang Congzhe remained calm, while Liu Yiji and Han Kuang watched the debate nervously. Whenever one of their own uttered a powerful argument, they wished they could applaud him; when the opposing faction presented irrefutable evidence, they glared angrily, eager for the speaker to swallow his words.

Because of Li Sancai, the Eastern Forest faction’s strongest argument—that the mining tax was an act of plundering the people—no longer held, and the notion that the emperor should not immediately overturn his father’s policy was deftly countered by Guan Yingzhen’s clever use of “returning their own logic upon themselves.” Thus, the Eastern Forest ministers now tearfully denounced the evils wrought by the mining tax, hoping to prevent its reinstatement.

Zhu Youxiao signaled to the court scribe, who cleared his throat and called out loudly, “His Majesty commands: the court is in uproar—what decorum is this?” He must have practiced internal martial arts, for his voice boomed from his chest, ringing in the ears of the officials at the front. The ministers quickly regained their composure and stood in order.

Zhu Youxiao spoke: “It seems you have two differing opinions. Very well, select two representatives to present your reasons to me.”

Zuo Guangdou stepped forward first, saying, “Your Majesty’s wisdom shines. In the past, the supervisors of the mining tax destroyed families and wiped out clans, causing untold suffering and misery among the people. For the sake of the common folk, I believe the mining tax should not be reinstated.”

After he finished, Wu Liangsi came forward and said, “Merchants across the land reap immense profits, yet contribute nothing to the state. Now, the imperial treasury is strained, and the military funds for Liaodong are at risk of running dry. Therefore, I urge Your Majesty to reinstate the mining tax to support national needs.”

Zhu Youxiao fell silent for a long moment, and everyone held their breath, waiting. The emperor’s face showed signs of inner conflict. He said, “Both ministers make valid points. Without the mining tax, the state lacks funds; with the mining tax, the people suffer. This puts me in a most difficult position—truly, a most difficult position!”

At that moment, the man who could relieve the emperor’s dilemma stepped forward. Minister of Revenue Xu Guangqi spoke: “Your Majesty worries for the realm, and we cannot ease your burden; it is a crime worthy of death.” With that, he knelt and kowtowed repeatedly.

The ministers followed suit, all declaring, “We are guilty!”

Zhu Youxiao, displeased, said, “I do not wish to hear your pleas for forgiveness. I want a solution that serves both sides. Xu Guangqi, you are the Minister of Revenue; if you cannot find a suitable plan, what use are you to me?” He finished by slapping the throne heavily.

Xu Guangqi continued, unruffled: “I respectfully heed Your Majesty’s command. Newly arrived at the Ministry of Revenue, I see that silver is needed for Liaodong, for the southwest, and for disaster relief everywhere, yet the annual revenue is limited, and increasingly expenses exceed income. I have witnessed the arrogance of mining tax officials and the misery of the people in years past. It is indeed a dilemma. I have a proposal: the mining tax should not be reinstated.”

His words stunned the entire court. Everyone knew Xu Guangqi was the emperor’s confidant and tutor from his days as crown prince. The emperor’s desire to revive the mining tax had been widely rumored among the ministers, but none expected Xu Guangqi to take the opposite stance.

The Eastern Forest faction was overjoyed: if even Xu Guangqi opposed the mining tax, the emperor could not possibly insist on his own view. Only Yang Lian and Sun Chengzong remained expressionless, knowing things could not be so simple.

Zhu Youxiao, furious, stood up and shouted, “You call this a dilemma, yet say the mining tax cannot be revived. That solves one half of the problem, but what about the other? Where am I to find the money to pacify Liaodong, clear the southwest, and aid the people? You are truly an excellent Minister of Revenue, truly excellent!”

Xu Guangqi did not panic or plead for forgiveness, but continued: “I beg Your Majesty to quell your wrath. I say the mining tax should not be revived, but I propose instead a new tax: a commercial tax. This tax would no longer be collected by eunuchs for the inner treasury, but rather by the Ministry of Revenue for the national treasury. What does Your Majesty think?”

Fang Congzhe, at just the right moment, chimed in: “Your Majesty, Minister Xu’s proposal would both replenish the treasury and allow merchants to contribute to the nation without disturbing the people. I second the motion.”

Zhu Youxiao sat down, his gaze turning to Liu Yiji. Liu quickly spoke: “Minister Xu’s plan is a brilliant solution to this dilemma. I am filled with joy and admiration; I second the motion.”

Han Kuang, seeing the tide could not be turned, followed suit: “I second the motion.”

With the elders making their positions clear, the juniors had no choice but to follow. The sound of kowtowing filled the hall: “I second the motion” echoed from every corner. Some voiced support unwillingly, but at this moment, it mattered little.

Zhu Youxiao spoke: “Rise, beloved ministers!”

Once everyone had stood, he continued: “You labor tirelessly for the nation, yet often cannot provide for your families. I am deeply ashamed. After the commercial tax is collected, I intend to raise the salaries of all officials throughout the country. I ask the Grand Secretariat and the ministries to discuss this matter, so that the officials may be at ease.”

The salaries of Ming dynasty officials were notoriously low. For example, a seventh-rank official—such as Yang Lian, who served as a Censor—received ninety shi of rice annually. In the Ming dynasty, one shi equaled one hundred twenty jin, and one jin was about 590 grams, totaling 6,372 kilograms of rice per year. If a person ate half a kilogram of rice per day, it would feed thirty-five people, but that calculation included no vegetables—one could hardly eat plain rice alone. Moreover, ninety shi was the theoretical amount; in practice, they usually received only fifty-four shi (sixty percent), with the remaining forty percent paid in cloth or even depreciated paper currency.

Later, when silver was used instead of rice, the annual salary became twelve shi of rice, about twenty-seven taels of silver, and three hundred sixty strings of cash, but paper currency had long lost its value, and “treasure notes” had no purchasing power. Thus, Yang Lian’s salary barely supported a few family members.

During the reign of Hongwu, Luo Furen, a scholar at the Hongwen Academy, lived very frugally; being unable to afford rent, he had to reside in a dilapidated house on the outskirts. Zhu Yuanzhang once visited his home and saw a laborer with a bucket painting the walls outside two shabby tile rooms. He asked, “Where is Luo Furen?” Unexpectedly, the laborer, startled by the emperor’s arrival, knelt and replied, “I am Luo Furen!” This left Zhu Yuanzhang embarrassed and astonished, but even so, he did not increase official salaries.

The renowned elder Hai Rui, when serving as county magistrate in Chun’an, Zhejiang, was so poor he had to grow his own vegetables, and dared not eat meat. Once, Hai Rui’s mother had a birthday, and he bought two jin of meat; this news reached Governor Hu Zongxian’s ears.

Later generations believed that the prevalence of corruption in the Ming dynasty was closely related to low official salaries. Zhu Youxiao had learned about the issue during a casual conversation with Xu Guangqi: only then did he realize how meager the wages were. Considering that even in later times, civil servants, despite high salaries meant to deter corruption, still embezzled eagerly, it was no wonder that Ming officials, given their paltry pay, would resort to various tricks to supplement their income. Thus, he resolved to substantially increase the salaries of officials.