Chapter 381: Relay Stations

"Matters concerning war preparations and Taiwan are concluded here. The Grand Secretariat, the Ministry of Personnel, the Ministry of War, the Ministry of Revenue, the Ministry of Works, and other relevant offices must promptly formulate corresponding measures based on actual conditions. Any matter touching on departmental affairs must produce a strategy within ten days, followed by swift deployment. The Censorate must strengthen oversight of these two matters, dispatching dedicated personnel into the offices to supervise execution. Should any instance of shirking or negligence be found, impeach and censure it at once!"

The assembled ministers rose and bowed to receive the decree.

Zhu Youjian had for the first time introduced the concept of a timetable, the purpose being to raise the efficiency of Ming officials through strict, standardized institutions.

In truth, since the new policy of salary increases had been implemented, the efficiency of every yamen in the capital had already become worlds apart from what it had been before.

Spurred by the enormous benefit to their own interests, and under the strict supervision of the Ministry of Personnel, the Censorate, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the lazy, slovenly atmosphere that had pervaded the Ming officialdom had been thoroughly reformed.

Especially the mid- and lower-ranking officials who handled specific duties in each yamen, along with the lowly clerks and secretaries without rank — their living conditions had suddenly undergone earth-shaking changes. Most had gone from dire poverty to a prosperous middle-class existence. This change, which they could never have dreamed of, ignited the work enthusiasm and attitude of the vast majority.

In the past, when one upheld the principle of eating the sovereign's grain and serving the sovereign's affairs, if someone gave you enormous benefits and you failed to make a corresponding return, such conduct was despised by the world — even one's own family members would show neither tolerance nor understanding.

Moreover, the Grand Secretariat had already circulated directives to all local governments: whenever a locality submitted a document upward and received a reply from the court, regardless of whether it concerned personnel, money, or goods, once the reported matter was concluded, a detailed document must be submitted to the court for final settlement, providing a comprehensive account of the handling process and its results. All such incoming and outgoing correspondence would be archived for future reference.

And after the court received local memorials, it would secretly dispatch Censors and Embroidered Uniform Guard officers to verify whether the local governments' reports concealed the true situation. Should any act of deceiving superiors and hoodwinking subordinates be discovered, the responsible principal official would be dismissed on the spot. If any of them had engaged in graft or perverted the law, they would be escorted under guard to the capital by the Embroidered Uniform Guard and handed over to the Three Judicial Offices for joint trial and sentencing.

A new official atmosphere — superiors leading subordinates, points driving the whole, oversight in place, and harsh discipline — was gradually taking shape and spreading through government offices across the Ming realm.

Although a considerable portion of officials found this extremely hard to adapt to and grumbled in secret, once a powerful trend takes shape, it will never easily reverse.

Whether you were willing or not, so long as you were caught up in it, you could only be pushed forward involuntarily by the momentum of this great tide.

Under the twin pressures of high income and the threat of losing one's post, the governance of the Ming was slowly turning toward the better.

"I beg to report to Your Majesty — your minister has something to say!"

The speaker was Chief Grand Secretary Wen Tiren.

"If Minister Wen has something to say, by all means speak! The Grand Secretariat's new style of governance fills me with great admiration — for all of this, you deserve the foremost credit!"

Zhu Youjian smiled and praised this old minister.

The Grand Secretariat's new policy had in fact been proposed and spearheaded by Wen Tiren himself.

Toward this new measure, which was likely to offend many people, Wang Yingxiong and Zhang Zhifa had adopted an attitude of neither supporting nor participating, while Wen Tiren's administrative plan had received Zhu Youjian's powerful backing.

In order to open a path of promotion for Wen Kan, Wen Tiren now had no scruples left.

He knew full well in his heart that once he retired from office in a few years, his second son's future would depend entirely on the Emperor.

Though he had served as Chief Grand Secretary for ten years, his reputation among court and country was none too good. Counting on others to shield Wen Kan was out of the question — clinging tightly to the Emperor's leg was the only correct choice.

He naturally knew that the Emperor harbored ambitions for bold reform. Everything now was using the yamen right under his nose as an experiment; after summing up the gains and losses, it would certainly be promoted comprehensively in the future.

Therefore, drawing on the Emperor's new policies for the capital's yamen as a foundation, Old Wen seized the initiative and rolled out an enhanced version of the new policy.

As expected, this move of his received the Emperor's greatest degree of approval. If one were now to rank the ministers in the Emperor's estimation, Wen Tiren was confident that he was firmly within the top three.

"I beg to report to Your Majesty: in light of the new policies' implementation, official correspondence to and fro has grown ever more frequent, officials across the realm are being transferred and promoted with increasing regularity, and newly minted jinshi and Imperial Academy degree-holders are about to take up their posts. Your minister proposes that the Court of Combined Reception be re-established in the capital, and that water and land relay stations be reopened throughout the four corners of the realm, so as to facilitate the transmission of documents, the escorting of envoys and guests, officials leaving and assuming office, the transport of military supplies, and the sending of letters and goods by persons of all walks of life in the Great Ming. Now that bandit troubles within the Ming borders have for the most part been eliminated, the number of merchants and travelers coming and going across the four frontiers has surged dramatically. The court ought to provide them with suitable lodging and food, sparing them the hardship of exposure to wind and dew. This is the reasoning behind your minister's proposal!"

The so-called water and land relay stations referred to posting stations along waterway and overland routes, with the overland ones being primary.

Relay stations had been valued by the emperors of every dynasty since ancient times. When a new dynasty was established, it would invariably spare no effort, pouring in vast amounts of manpower, money, and materials to open and maintain relay stations, thereby ensuring the smooth flow of court decrees and the accurate, timely transmission of local affairs to the center.

From the day the Founding Emperor ascended the throne, the establishment of relay stations had been counted among the most critical matters of state and military affairs. Stations were opened at strategic points along the realm's waterways and highways, and as time passed they were extended across the entire Ming territory. Relay stations at every locality played a major role in military, political, cultural, and economic affairs, becoming the principal channel for the dissemination of official information in the Great Ming.

The moment relay stations were mentioned, Zhu Youjian could not help but have a famous name surface in his mind — Li Zicheng.

In the third year of Chongzhen in history, the original master of this body had ordered the abolition of more than three-tenths of the realm's relay stations, and that was what had brought the gravedigger of the Great Ming Dynasty into the world.

Li Zicheng, a horse groom at the Yinchuan relay station, was laid off. And so, Groom Li, with no road left to take, threw in his lot with the so-called righteous army, and thereafter "raised his arm with a great shout, and the nine provinces split asunder."

Of course, the present Groom Li was scurrying beyond the frontier like a homeless dog, "mixing it up" with his Mongol brethren — with no further chance of toppling the Great Ming's rivers and mountains.

Zhu Youjian naturally understood the importance of the relay and courier system. When the relay roads were open, the state was strong; when the relay roads were clogged, the state declined.

The rise and fall of the relay courier system was an omen of the rise and fall of the central government — these words were indeed the highest truth.

In the history of the past, whenever a state's government could no longer sustain the existence of its relay courier system, it showed that the dynasty's finances were nearly exhausted, and the day of its collapse was not far off.

In history, the Great Ming was the most typical example.

Why did the rise and fall of the relay courier system reflect the rise and fall of a dynasty so accurately and sensitively?

The reason was simple.

One word: silver.

Three words: a great deal of silver.

In this age of extremely inconvenient transportation, the relay courier system cost far too much money.

Take a simple example — the transmission of the court's Capital Gazette. Sending the Capital Gazette from the capital to Xuanhua Relay Station, which was right at hand, alone cost one tael of silver per month.

One could well imagine how much silver it would cost to transmit the Capital Gazette to a place thousands of li away.

In the third year of Chongzhen, after the Emperor issued the decree abolishing relay stations, in just one year the Taicang treasury saved 680,000 taels of silver in relay expenditures — and that was the result of abolishing only three-tenths.

From this one could see just how enormous the annual cost of the relay courier system truly was.

And the copying and dispatch of the Capital Gazette was merely the simplest of the tasks borne by the relay stations.

But Zhu Youjian knew that no matter how much it cost, the relay stations must exist.

Because in the process of conveying orders downward and conditions upward, the relay stations and courier system played a pivotal role — one could even say they were an irreplaceable existence.

Wen Tiren's proposal was entirely reasonable and sensible — indeed, one could call it the words of an elder statesman planning for the state.

Standing at the lofty post of Chief Grand Secretary, Old Wen clearly recognized that if the court's new policies were to be extended to every corner of the Ming realm, the relay stations and courier system would be an extremely important link — and also the most convenient and direct channel for the court to control local governments.

Zhu Youjian naturally understood this principle. He even knew that among many relay stations in vital positions, some of the station attendants were themselves secret agents of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. These plainclothes spies would compile much important intelligence and report it to the capital, contributing their own small strength to this nation from their humble station.