Chapter 308: Propaganda War

A descendant of the imperial clan stranded in Jinling — a descendant of Zhu Yuanzhang! And now he's handing out flyers for small change?

Hou Fangyu could hardly believe his ears! This was too absurd — had a Ming imperial clansman really fallen to such a state?

But his astonishment had only just begun, because by this time the entire city of Nanjing had already been stirred up by the propaganda war Zhu Cilang had launched.

The Tartar envoys' "performance" in the eleventh month had been a success! The juren and talented scholars gathered in Jinling from all over had seen with their own eyes and heard with their own ears the savagery of the Tartars, and naturally realized that once the Tartars seized Jiangnan, they would not even be qualified to become booi slaves — they could only starve to death, and their wives and daughters would be violated by the Tartars!

This was truly intolerable — even the scholars could not bear it!

But getting them to contribute money or effort was still a bit difficult — they begrudged the money, and had no strength to offer. The only thing they could offer at present was verbal cannon-fire! Several thousand, even ten thousand juren dreaming of becoming jinshi all sprayed at once — spraying every day, spraying day after day — for over a month, writing denunciations and poems, all cursing the Tartars.

When these denunciations and poems were delivered to Dorgon, would this Qing Prince Regent — who held the Son of Heaven hostage and slept with the Empress Dowager — come to hate the scholars of Jiangnan to death?

Of course, these denunciations and poems were certain to be delivered to Dorgon's residence — with the marriage-proposal hall and the trading house on Haisha Island in place, news that angered Dorgon would flow ceaselessly to Beijing.

Besides the scholars, the unlettered also needed stirring up! But the method was different — not flyers, denunciations, and poems, but opera and storytelling. The old talent Ruan Dacheng and his daughter Ruan Lizhen had in these days already written three great plays about beating the Tartars and blackening the Tartars — one titled "The Crown Prince Displays Divine Might at Dagu," another "Tartar Soldiers Bathe Jinan in Blood," and a third "The Nation Broken, the Family Ruined, the Land Shattered."

Except for "The Crown Prince Displays Divine Might at Dagu," which touted the Crown Prince as the mainstay of the anti-Qing resistance, the other two both blackened the Tartars — one told of city massacres, and the other told of house-seizing, land-enclosure, forced enslavement, the queue order, and the fugitive-slave laws!

In short, if the Tartars took the southeast, the people of Yingtian Prefecture would either be slaughtered, or driven from their homes to starve, or made slaves of the Tartars. To live like human beings, there was no choice but to fight the Tartars to the death!

These three great plays had not only "stage versions" but also "storytelling versions" and "novel versions," and in Nanjing city today they could be found on nearly every stage, in every teahouse, and in all the bookshops and bookstores.

This was high-intensity propaganda warfare! In most wars of the later modern and contemporary eras, all kinds of propaganda and agitation were indispensable means of war mobilization!

How could Zhu Cilang, who by nature loved to bluff and boast, possibly not use it?

As for defending the Tartars or anything of that sort — that was not permitted. The Southern Provost Office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard was not there for nothing!

Besides the Southern Provost Office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Donglin Faction, Zhu Cilang had also found himself a group of propaganda-war helpers — a portion of the young imperial clansmen stranded in Jinling. These people had originally been able to do nothing but idle their lives away waiting to die, but now their iron rice bowls had been smashed, and they had no choice but to go out and make their way. Yet Zhu Cilang was not truly giving them no way out at all. How could a Crown Prince as affectionate and loyal as he bear to watch his own clansmen starve to death?

So he had provided quite a few paths: those who could paint, those who could keep accounts, those who understood medicine, those who could write a fine hand — all were arranged as far as possible into posts as technical officials or clerks. He had also allotted them residential land in the outer wall district of Nanjing so they could build houses and settle their families.

If they were still young, they were arranged to go to school. First they would spend some time at the Nanjing Imperial Academy, and once the Nanjing Chinese-Western Academy now in preparation opened, the young clansmen and sons of meritorious nobles would be arranged as the first cohort to enroll.

If a clansman had no particular skill and was also somewhat older, a path was still provided — the bottom-line path was to go to the Xiaoling Guard and the Imperial Mausoleum Guard (under the Central Capital Garrison Command) to guard the tombs — at least there would always be food to eat. The sturdier ones among them would also be enrolled in the Xiaoling Guard New Army — this was a hard posting, but once they had tasted hardship and trained up a wolf-like ferocity, they could serve as wolves for the Crown Prince — what a great honor that was!

And those clansmen who distributed flyers inside and outside Nanjing belonged to the category of those who failed to reach the high and disdained the low. They had all read a bit, but lacked the ability to pass the juren or jinshi examinations, were unwilling to stoop to become clerks, had no skill to become technical officials, and even more refused to become soldiers.

Zhu Cilang had arranged a way out for them too — he had them join the "Donglin Faction" and become "grassroots party members." Besides distributing flyers, they were also responsible for investigating popular sentiment — anyone who sang a different tune from the Crown Prince, or spoke up for the Tartars, the roving bandits, or other rebels, had better beware of being seized as a traitor by these Donglin clansmen.

When the Donglin Grand Assembly was held after a while, the strength of these grassroots party members would not be underestimated — numerous, powerful, and of imperial clan blood.

When Hou Fangyu and his father Hou Xun hurried together to the Dagonfang to report to Zhu Cilang the news that Zuo Liangyu had very likely gone mad, they encountered a "Donglin youth" named Zhu Tongquan — a rather handsome young fellow, not yet twenty, whose proper post was painter at the Painting Academy, and whose calligraphy, poetry, and prose were also quite good.

Because he had painted "standard portraits" of Zhu Cilang many times — the Crown Prince liked to cultivate a personality cult, and of course wanted his portraits posted in the barracks of the Hard-Working New Army for his devoted officers and men to pay respects to — he had become familiar with Zhu Cilang.

The two were about the same age, and both were descendants of the Exalted Emperor, the Grand Progenitor, so naturally they had much in common. Thus Zhu Cilang intended to promote him, giving him a sum of funds to recruit a group of young talents from among the imperial clansmen stranded in Nanjing, and then collectively join the Donglin Faction — which in practice meant taking some more agreeable Donglin members as their teachers.

With these "Donglin Young Party Members," Zhu Cilang's grasp of the Donglin Faction and of southeastern public opinion naturally rose another level.

"Minister Hou, Chaozong, both of you sit and talk." Zhu Cilang greeted the Hou father and son and had them seated, then said to Zhu Tongquan, "Ren'an, you sit too."

All three knew that Zhu Cilang was rather approachable, so they did not stand on ceremony with him, and all sat down on the chairs arranged in the study of the Yongchun Pavilion.

"Chaozong," Zhu Cilang asked with a smile, "has Zuo Liangyu agreed to send his daughter to Us?"

This was a matter of great importance!

Of the four garrisons north of the Yangtze, one had fled, one was firmly under Zhu Cilang's control, and the remaining two had also sided with the Crown Prince!

And the Fujian strongman Zheng Zhilong had already confirmed his date of arrival in the capital — he would reach Nanjing before New Year's Eve, and Zheng Zhilong's daughter Zheng Chagu would arrive together with him!

Along with them would also arrive 5,000 Japanese matchlock muskets, 1,500 turtle-dove-foot matchlocks produced in Foshan or Anping, and 12 three-pounder battalion guns cast by the Bocarro foundry in Macao.

If Zuo Liangyu could also send his daughter into Zhu Cilang's rear palace, then the Crown Prince would essentially have won the support of all the great warlords within Ming territory. The Chongzhen Emperor's happy retirement — a life of leisurely pleasure — would be just about at hand.

The moment he thought of how the Chongzhen Emperor, just in his thirties, could enjoy a retirement life of absolute financial freedom and freedom with beautiful women, the Crown Prince was unbearably envious — in later ages, people in their thirties were still striving for the blessings of the 996 work schedule! And Chongzhen was already retired — truly too fortunate. It was just that Zhu Cilang had it a bit hard, toiling for the nation and the people at such a young age.

"Thousand Years, something has gone wrong!" Hou Fangyu answered with a furrowed face. "Something has happened to the Marquis of Wuchang!"

"What?" Zhu Cilang was startled. "Dead? The Embroidered Uniform Guard hasn't reported anything!"

Of course there were secret agents of the Southern Provost Office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard inside Wuchang city!

"Not dead, but mad!"

"Mad?" Zhu Cilang frowned deeply. "Is it serious?"

A great warlord holding a hundred thousand troops in his hand going mad — this was trouble! A madman's behavior was unpredictable! Heaven only knew when he might rebel!

"Somewhat serious!" Hou Fangyu shook his head repeatedly. "The man simply doesn't look right! And he talks nonsense, saying that the Prince of Yong would arrive in Wuchang before long, and also saying, also saying..."

"Speak up!" Seeing Hou Fangyu hesitating, Zhu Cilang urged, "What exactly did he say?"

"He said that if Thousand Years dares to make — make His Majesty abdicate in his favor, he will support the Prince of Yong as Emperor!"

"Ah!" Zhu Cilang's face was full of astonishment. "This — this — what is to be done? Imperial Father has long been weary of court affairs and only wishes to abdicate to Us as soon as possible, and We are a filial son — how could We bear to refuse?"

Hou Xun nodded repeatedly beside him: "Indeed! His Majesty has labored for the nation for so many years — he ought to rest well and let Thousand Years fulfill his filial duty!"

"If it please you, this old subject will make another trip to Wuchang and, no matter what, bring Zuo Mengmei back to present to Thousand Years."

Truly a loyal subject! Zhu Cilang nodded with satisfaction. This Minister of Revenue, Minister Hou, apart from not knowing how to collect taxes, was quite good in other respects — a loyal subject indeed!

"But won't Zuo Liangyu detain you, Minister?" Zhu Cilang was somewhat worried. "He's somewhat mad now... how did he suddenly go mad?"

"What's good about him?" Hou Xun shook his head. "His entire family, old and young, died in Xuzhou. Ever since then, he has not been well. But this old man is still confident he can come and go as usual."

"How pitiful!" Zhu Cilang paused. "Master Hou, why don't you personally make a trip to Wuchang and tell Zuo Liangyu that We are a filial son and will not seize Imperial Father's throne!"

(End of Chapter)