Chapter 337: We Must Reflect on Our Errors Properly! (Fourth Update)

What does the "Palace of Self-Reflection" mean?

Perhaps knowing just how great his own faults were, the Chongzhen Emperor's heart immediately went hollow: the Palace of Self-Reflection, as the name implies, must be the palace where the Son of Heaven reflects on his errors. And self-reflection requires shutting oneself away! Could that unfilial son mean to imprison Us in this Palace of Self-Reflection, where no daylight ever reaches?

At that thought, the Chongzhen Emperor wanted to turn and leave, but then he heard Zhu Cilang calling from a distance: "Imperial Father has arrived! Your son respectfully greets Imperial Father and wishes him peace!"

Too late — the unfilial son was already here!

The Chongzhen Emperor knew he could not get away; how could he possibly be allowed to leave? To put it bluntly, he, the Emperor, was a bare pole with no one under him. Even the soldiers guarding the West Garden detached palace were not his own, so where could he run?

"Imperial Father, you have finally arrived!" Zhu Cilang performed the proper rites and kowtowed to the Chongzhen Emperor, then stepped forward and took the arm of the dazed Emperor. "A room has already been prepared for you inside the Palace of Self-Reflection. Please come in with your son and settle in first. Once you are settled, we can discuss how to go about reflecting on your errors."

Is he really going to imprison Us here? The Chongzhen Emperor looked at Zhu Cilang, whose face was full of a ferocious grin, and merely sighed softly.

In truth, this day had long been within his expectations!

He was an emperor who had lost his power and been imprisoned! Keeping his life was already good enough; to hope for a restoration would be difficult beyond all difficulty. Although Ming history had one Retired Emperor who was restored, Emperor Yingzong of Ming, how could the ability of the Jingtai Emperor compare with that of this unfilial son Zhu Cilang?

The unfilial son had so many die-hard followers, and he also controlled so much land and gold and silver; his foundations were growing ever firmer and hard to shake. Yet he still could not imprison his own father beside the Filial Mausoleum — though this was the outer city of Nanjing, it was truly desolate and cold. And this Palace of Self-Reflection, no matter how one looked at it, was a bit shabby!

Even Li Shimin knew to build the Daming Palace for Li Yuan, and you, an unfilial son, give Us some "Palace of Self-Reflection" to live in? This will not do. We absolutely cannot agree to it!

"Chun Ge'er..." Chongzhen looked pitifully at his son, wanting to beg for mercy, yet unable to say the words.

"Imperial Father, come." Zhu Cilang thought the Chongzhen Emperor's manner was a little odd, but he did not take it to heart. He simply took him by the arm and walked toward the Palace of Self-Reflection. "Imperial Father will have to stay in the Palace of Self-Reflection for quite some time this visit."

It was over! The unfilial son really had seized him and locked him up! Chongzhen's heart was cold, cold through, and he had no mind left to listen to what Zhu Cilang was saying. Wooden and uncomprehending, he let Zhu Cilang lead him into the Palace of Self-Reflection, into a great hall that had just been completed and still gave off the fresh scent of timber, and was even led to a chair and seated.

Has this fatuous ruler already begun reflecting on his errors? Zhu Cilang looked at Chongzhen's appearance and thought to himself: Actually, you don't need to reflect on your errors. What is there left for you to reflect on? Just be your honest "Emperor Huizong of Ming"! In any case, you have financial freedom, there will be no shortage of peerless beauties for you, your health looks decent, and you are only thirty-four years old. Truly, a fortunate man need not rush!

After father and son had each taken their seats, the thirty-three princes, the six Ministers and Grand Secretaries, the several Guard Commanders of the Grand Marshal's Office, Censor-in-Chief of the Right Zhang Shize, Censor-in-Chief of the Left Li Mingrui, Duke Dingguo Xu Yunzhen, Marquis Wuding Guo Peimin, Marquis Taining Chen Yanzuo, Marquis Gongshun Wu Ruzheng, Marquis Zhenyuan Gu Zhaoji, and the rest of the assembled dukes and marquises in the capital all filed in, formed two rows, and performed the kowtow ceremony to the Chongzhen Emperor.

"Rise, all of you rise, all of you be seated." Zhu Cilang bade everyone take their seats, then gave a sigh. "Gentlemen, we have been in Nanjing for several months now and have never once formally swept the Filial Mausoleum. Ah, it is not because of the great renovation works, nor for lack of time, but because we do not know what to say before the underground palace of the Exalted Ancestor, the High Emperor."

"What is there to say?" The Chongzhen Emperor suddenly opened his golden mouth. "If We have faults, they extend to all the myriad regions; if the myriad regions have faults, the fault lies in Our person."

These are words from the "Yao Yue" chapter of the Analects, said to have been spoken by Yao when he abdicated the throne to Shun. They are also the stock phrases used by later rulers when issuing edicts of self-reproach. Whether the Chongzhen Emperor truly believed in this formula or simply spoke it from habit, the words came out at once.

"Imperial Father," Zhu Cilang said, looking at Chongzhen with sympathy, "those words from the edicts of self-reproach are only for fooling the common people. We must not actually believe them!"

"What? Has the realm fallen to its present state not because We, the Emperor, have been without the Way?" The Chongzhen Emperor's attitude toward admitting fault was good enough; the problem was that he had no idea where his fault lay.

Zhu Cilang shook his head. "Imperial Father is of course without the Way, but there are too many people in the realm without the Way — it is not Imperial Father alone! Even among the gentlemen gathered here today, there are quite a few who are without the Way!"

"This..." Chongzhen was taken aback. "Have you not always had this loyal subject and that meritorious official on your lips? How is it that now they have all become ministers who lost the state?"

Zhu Cilang shook his head. "They are not ministers who lost the state, but ministers who weakened the state! The state grew weak because of them. Yet if there could be a wise and mighty ruler who knew where the state's problems lay, who toiled painstakingly and strove to hold things together, he could still pacify Liaodong, destroy the roving bandits, and give the Great Ming a half-dead, half-alive peace.

But the present situation cannot rely on a wise ruler alone; it also requires ministers who work with sincere hearts. And to work with a sincere heart, one must know how our state decayed into its present condition!

We are gathered here now precisely to find where the problems lie! We do not mean to assign blame, and there is nothing worth assigning blame for! Because all of you, like Ourself, have already suffered grievous losses from being without the Way. Most of you are princes who lost your fiefs, dukes and marquises who lost your family estates, scholar-officials who lost your native places. Though you have received some rewards and can carry on with your lives, ninety-nine percent of your former wealth and honor is gone. Surely you must know the pain by now!"

So Zhu Cilang was not looking to make trouble for Chongzhen, but truly meant to examine the gains and losses of the Great Ming's governance over more than two hundred years — only when everyone understood the gains and losses, and understood why they had fallen to this state, would the next round of reforms have sufficient impetus!

"Waaah!"

At Zhu Cilang's words, someone in the great hall had already burst into loud weeping. The one weeping was none other than the Prince of Fu, Zhu Yousong!

The fat man's lot was bitter! From childhood he had been a pampered scion of the imperial blood, with everything one could want in his princely residence — it was paradise on earth. But when Li Zicheng came, everything was destroyed. Even his parents, wife, and children were gone, leaving him utterly alone.

Although Zhu Cilang had granted him a new mansion, granted him ten thousand mu of land, and given him some gold and silver, the fat Prince of Fu was lonely and wretched, and his health was poor. Apart from drowning his sorrows in drink, there was nothing he could do. How could he not be bitter?

Once he led the way, the great hall immediately dissolved into a chorus of weeping. Most of the thirty-three princes were princes of bitter fate. Only the line of the Prince of Heng was still intact; every other family was scattered and broken, and some had even become bare-pole princes. Just thinking of it was bitter.

As for the dukes and marquises, they were much the same. In Beijing, who among them had not had a great household? How many were left now? Who had not lost a host of kinsmen in the chaos of these times? Just thinking of it was wretched!

(End of Chapter)