Chapter 145: The Almshouses

With the new policy in place, the atmosphere in every government office in the capital was refreshed, and the bad habits of sloth and negligence virtually disappeared overnight. Under the strict supervision of the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot, the bureaucratic environment of delay and buck-passing improved greatly. Major and urgent matters reported by local authorities were quickly compiled onto the desks of superiors, then forwarded to the Grand Secretariat for handling.

Not being proactive simply wouldn't do—if any error or omission were recorded by the Depot and Guard officers stationed in the offices, not only would the year-end bonus of thirty taels vanish, but one's very job could be at risk. Having finally looked forward to high pay, losing the golden rice bowl would have one's family cursing them to no end. The reason the Depot and Guard officers found it easy to supervise these clerks was that all incoming and outgoing documents had to be registered, so they only needed to check the files at the end of each shift.

The members of the Grand Secretariat gained even more from this pay raise.

Wen Tiren, as Chief Grand Secretary, drew his salary at the rank of first grade. His monthly pay was set at two hundred taels, with a thousand taels of integrity-nurturing silver.

Wang Yingxiong, Zhang Zhifa, and others were treated at the rank of first grade secondary, with monthly pay of one hundred fifty taels and eight hundred taels of integrity-nurturing silver.

Wen Tiren was already in his sixties, and he usually walked with the measured pace of an official, projecting steadiness and the full dignity of his office.

A man who prided himself on incorruptibility, he kept his doors tightly shut after returning home from work, receiving virtually no outside visitors, all to maintain the pose of one who refused bribes.

Over time, incorruptible he certainly was, but his household lived less comfortably than that of other ministers.

Because no one sent gifts—weren't you the incorruptible lone minister? Then what need had you for silver?

For this, Old Wen took no small amount of nagging from his wife and children at home: "Look at such-and-such a Grand Secretary—he rides in a grand palanquin with eight bearers, has a swarm of servants, and hosts banquets for friends and guests every few days. His concubines wear full sets of gold jewelry and go out followed by a train of maidservants. Now look at our household—your official palanquin has been in use for years, and you won't spend the money to replace it. How shabby you look on the road to and from the office!"

Old Wen knew his own hardship well and could only put on a stern face, bark a reprimand, then slip off to his study to read, because his conscience pricked him.

All these years as Chief Grand Secretary, to project an image of uprightness and incorruptibility in the emperor's eyes, how many heavy gifts had he gritted his teeth and refused—wasn't it all just to keep his position as Chief Grand Secretary?

At the usual holiday and festival gift-giving, only a few of his most loyal confidants sent presents. But at the homes of men like Wang Yingxiong, when the New Year or festivals came around, gift-bearers queued up in long lines at the door.

Wen Tiren sometimes regretted it—what exactly was he after?

Wasn't the point of being an official to let one's family and close friends bask in the glory? Now look—a Chief Grand Secretary, and his household lived only slightly better than an ordinary wealthy family, because he had no money.

He never expected His Majesty to show such grace, granting so great a favor all at once. Though it wasn't given to him personally, he was still the highest-paid of all officials.

His salary alone came to twenty-four hundred taels a year, plus a thousand taels of integrity-nurturing silver. Not only did his household suddenly become vastly more comfortable, but more importantly, there was the glory—his salary was the highest in the entire Ming! Who could compare?

The official palanquin was old and unsightly? Replace it! Immediately get the newest model—the kind with a brazier in winter and an ice basin in summer!

Other men's concubines wore gold jewelry? Buy it! Full sets of gold ornaments, the most fashionable style—buy two sets! Surely there'd be no more nagging now?

Old Wen now walked with brisk, wind-whipping strides. His whole person became spirited and vigorous, his voice boomed, and even his usual stern, expressionless face carried a hint of a smile.

The effect of this pay raise was immediate, and it would produce deeper-level consequences—the settling of people's hearts being the greatest benefit.

Dwelling deep in the palace, the capital was his home base, the brain and nerve center of the entire Ming. Whether it was the morale of the military, the hearts of the people, or the disposition of the officials, all had to be stable, and morale had to be lifted.

All told, this was merely an added expenditure of a bit over two hundred thousand taels a year, yet it had essentially eliminated many of the corrupt practices in the government offices—practices that all stemmed from two words: silver.

The key was how to make this good atmosphere last, rather than everyone's enthusiasm burning out after three minutes. It seemed effective supervision and personal interest were both indispensable.

Any problem that money could solve was no problem at all. A mere two hundred thousand taels was hardly a large sum for the now flush Chongzhen.

As long as the problem of the Lianghuai salt fields was resolved, it would mean silver white as snow and copper coins gleaming yellow rolling in endlessly.

Should he give a share to the Ministry of Revenue as well? Hou Xun's bitter-melon face, though somewhat improved now, was still wrinkled and sour all day long. Every time he saw that old face full of class resentment, he wished he could walk up and kick the man.

Forget it—the man was past sixty and had to deal with memorials begging for money and grain from every region every day. It truly was hard on him. He'd allow him a suitable portion when the time came; he couldn't just watch the old man worry himself to death, could he?

Since the matter of Lianghuai had come to mind, he might as well get on with it. This year had seen an extra outlay of over two hundred thousand taels, and the Lianghuai Salt Administration might just recover several times two hundred thousand in one stroke.

Don't underestimate officials of low rank—if a man sat in a critical post long enough, his family fortune might well rival that of certain high ministers. Petty officials with enormous corruption were nothing new.

Once the Lianghuai Salt Administration was taken down, the Lianghuai salt fields would become a prize in hand. The dozen or so salt fields north of the Huai River alone, along with the salt stored in the official granaries, represented a vast fortune.

Unfortunately, the great salt merchants all resided in Yangzhou Prefecture, so he couldn't conveniently seize and search a few of them on charges of colluding with bandits and appropriating state profits for private gain—that would have been a windfall indeed.

If one compared eight of them against the likes of Fan Yongdou and his lot, the salt merchants' family fortunes would leave Fan Yongdou's crowd in the dust by several streets.

Just how extravagant were the salt merchants?

Let me give an example.

A certain salt merchant built a hall in his garden for entertaining honored guests. The entire hall was constructed entirely of wood, including all the furniture within.

Isn't building with wood perfectly ordinary? What's so luxurious about that?

Yes, building with wood is ordinary—but they used golden-thread nanmu throughout!

In later ages, nanmu was likened to "an inch of golden thread for an inch of gold," and in the present Ming, its price was in no way inferior. "An inch of wood for an inch of gold" was truly no exaggeration.

The nanmu was found deep in the mountains of Yunnan and Guizhou, felled and floated downstream on the current, then towed by boat to Jiangnan, where the timber was split open, thoroughly dried, and then crafted into furniture. The costs along the way made the already scarce golden-thread nanmu even more expensive.

To build an entire hall from golden-thread nanmu—how much silver would that cost?

The exact figure was unknown, but roughly it would run from over a hundred thousand to several hundred thousand taels.

To spend several hundred thousand taels building a single hall purely for one's own pleasure—one can imagine how deep the family's pockets ran.

Even on the later Forbes rich list, few would be willing to do such a thing. Some have calculated that one tael of silver in the Ming dynasty had the purchasing power of a thousand RMB—spending a hundred million or two hundred million just to build a hall was something very few could manage.

In any case, Chongzhen would never indulge in such extravagance. Though honored as sovereign of the realm, nominally possessing all within the four seas, in reality he had only just crawled out of hard times.

Besides, no matter how wealthy he became, Chongzhen would never spend money on such things—it wasn't worth it.

Pouring huge sums into improving people's livelihoods—building bridges and paving roads, aiding the distressed and relieving the destitute—wasn't that better than sinking it into lifeless objects? If everyone used money to build extravagant houses, where would the silver needed for circulating other goods come from?

At present, at least the capital region was stable on all fronts—from the palace to the military to the common folk, all hearts were set on peace, and now the official class had been added to that. Through various measures, Chongzhen's prestige had quietly taken root. The next step was to let people slowly digest and absorb the nutritious meal they'd been fed, subtly transforming some chronic ills and grave maladies.

To let good governance benefit more ordinary people, under Chongzhen's deliberate coaxing, Empress Dowager Yi'an, Empress Zhou, Noble Consort Tian, and Noble Consort Li Shu and others contributed funds to establish two fairly large almshouses, one in the southern city and one in the northern city. The original almshouses had long since fallen into ruin and collapse, and the surrounding residences had confined them to a tiny area, so they were not rebuilt on the original sites.

Almshouses had existed since ancient times, and after Grand Ancestor established the Ming, he carried this institution forward and expanded it.

"Let widowers, widows, orphans, the childless, the disabled, and the sick who cannot sustain themselves find support" was the basic principle of the almshouses. During the Ming's heyday, nearly every prefecture and county had an almshouse, funded by donations from local officials and gentry, who purchased grain and other necessities of life to keep them running.

But with years of turmoil and instability, governance in the north had collapsed. When ordinary people could barely keep themselves alive, who had thought for others? Thus the almshouses north of the Yangtze gradually fell into ruin, accompanied by countless tragedies.

At present, restoring almshouses on a large scale across the realm was impossible—even putting food in the mouths of ordinary people was hard enough.

But he couldn't just watch those solitary and helpless souls sicken and starve to death, could he? As a transmigrator, Chongzhen, who had been raised from childhood on the principle that humanitarianism was humanity's most basic conscience, could not accept it.

Now that his hands were loosened, he could not allow human tragedies to unfold before his very eyes.

During one meal, Chongzhen happened to mention a report from the Embroidered Uniform Guard, one section of which described in detail the miserable condition of this helpless group in the capital.

The reason humans form families is not merely to carry on the bloodline, but more importantly to find support. When one suffers a major setback and needs help, having kin by one's side—even if they can offer no other assistance—provides far greater psychological security.

These people, left without support for various reasons, lived as if in hell.

Lacking clothes and food was the norm on ordinary days, and especially after falling ill, one could only, in full possession of one's faculties, slowly waste away accompanied by overwhelming terror.

Harder still was winter—under the twin torments of hunger and cold, death was the best release. Every day, the runners of Shuntian Prefecture had to cart great numbers of those who had frozen or starved to death out of the city gates, finding some desolate spot to discard them.

These were not refugees from elsewhere, but locals of the capital—widowers, widows, orphans, the childless, the disabled, and the sick!

When Empress Zhou heard her husband speak of these things, she could not help but weep profusely, rising from the table without touching her food and retiring to the bedchamber.

The next day, Empress Zhou went to the residence of Empress Dowager Yi'an and told her everything Chongzhen had said, one item after another. Zhang Yan could not help but shed tears as well, and so the idea arose of personally funding the construction of a poorhouse.

Empress Zhou relayed the thoughts of the group to her husband, and Chongzhen immediately expressed his firm support, praising the kindness and good deeds of Empress Zhou and the others most highly. He also generously stated that although it would be in name funded by Empress Zhou and the others, in reality all expenses would be borne by himself—including the future operating costs of the poorhouse, which would all be covered by the privy purse.

Amid unanimous praise from court and country alike, Empress Zhou and the others contributed thirty thousand taels of silver, and the poorhouse—with the Ministry of Works dispatching officials to supervise construction and the Shuntian Prefecture responsible for hiring laborers—officially began to be built.

With the Empress, the mother of the realm, taking the lead, and with the Emperor having just substantially raised everyone's salaries, the wives of many nobles and civil officials also vied to donate money and grain.

The households of Princess Le'an, Marquis Yangwu, Earl Xuancheng, and other nobles, as well as the households of senior court officials led by Wen Tiren, all rushed to donate—a thousand taels from one, two or three hundred from another. This made Chongzhen sigh inwardly: when a ruler treats his ministers as his hands and feet, then ministers treat their ruler as their heart and belly—the ancients truly did not deceive me! Building a poorhouse had been a matter of proper duty, yet unexpectedly it had created a rare point of connection between ruler and ministers who had each harbored their own designs. This too could be counted as a concrete expression of returning kindness for kindness.