Chapter 347: Folk Uprising Story II: The Silken Fabric Case – Aftermath

Folk Uprising Story II: The Silken Fabric Case – Aftermath

Folk Uprising Story II: The Silken Fabric Case – Aftermath

Seeing many readers are interested, I’ll explain the aftermath of the silken fabric case.

Historically, the course of events before the Wanli era aligned exactly with this book’s depiction.

During the Jiajing reign, someone petitioned over “equal distribution of silken fabric tax among five counties,” but the prefecture of Huizhou dragged out the case until everyone involved—governor, officials, petitioners—were worn down to death.

Then, Shuai Jiamo began petitioning the Provincial Governor’s office in the fourth year of Longqing; after Hai Rui endorsed it, he was transferred away fifteen days later.

Afterward, Shuai Jiamo petitioned in Nanjing, first approaching a censor surnamed Song, who gained support from the Censorate, which ruled “equal taxation.” The Nanjing Ministry of Revenue gave ambiguous instructions, ordering Huizhou Prefecture to investigate thoroughly and propose a solution.

Unfortunately, Shuai Jiamo vanished en route back home, fleeing a thousand li away to Jiangxia in Hubei—this was his own later account: “On my return journey, I was attacked and forced into distant hiding, unable to submit my full petition.”

With the petitioner gone, the matter naturally stalled again.

It wasn’t until March of the third year of Wanli that the case took a dramatic turn.

Because the Ministry of Revenue sent a document to the Nanjing Provincial Governor stating: “By Imperial Edict: The Ministry of Revenue is informed. So ordered. Copied and delivered to the Ministry, forwarded to the Bureau.”

In other words, the Emperor wished to pursue this matter. Considering the political climate of that historical moment, it is reasonable to infer this was Zhang Juzheng’s doing—after all, when Shuai Jiamo first submitted his petition, he had used the New Policies as leverage, arguing that this tax contradicted the Single Whip Law.

In short, once the document reached the Provincial Governor’s office, the pressure immediately intensified.

This time, the Provincial Governor’s office did not issue a light directive but issued an official edict: first, they brought Shuai Jiamo back from Hubei, then the Prefect of Huizhou immediately convened a meeting of all six counties.

Details are recorded in Volume 1 of “Complete Book of Silken Fabric,” “Huizhou Prefecture’s Order to Counties Urging Deliberation,” in the “Collection of Rare Ancient Books from the National Library of China,” Volume 60, Beijing: Book Catalogue and Literature Press, 1988, page 457.

The position of She County remained unchanged.

First, neither the Imperial Code nor Ministry of Revenue documents ever mentioned She County paying alone; if not stated, the tax should be equally distributed.

Second, “person-based silken fabric” had been altered to “summer tax raw silk,” causing the tax burden of five counties to fall on She County.

They gathered signatures from numerous high officials—the same ones mentioned in the book.

The five counties likewise reviewed historical records and cross-checked their own Yellow Registers.

The data matched what was presented in the book; no need to reprint it.

They concluded several points, including that this silken fabric tax was originally She County’s outstanding debt, unrelated to the other five counties.

They also cited Zhejiang’s example: although the Imperial Code did not mention it, collecting tax on a single county’s specialty was normal, and they even unearthed She County’s abandoned mulberry fields.

All this was appended to the “Petition of the Five Counties Clarifying the Origins of the Silken Fabric Tax,” with extremely detailed data—clearly holding the upper hand.

But at this point, She County began stalling.

A She County student named Xu Yichun argued that the Yellow Registers were two hundred years old and could have been altered by local officials; if authenticity were to be judged, the Great Ming Code must prevail.

The dispute grew fiercer.

Helpless, they formed a hundred-member delegation to Nanjing’s Ministry of Revenue to examine the original Yellow Registers.

Of course, if county archives were well preserved, Nanjing’s Ministry of Revenue might not be—the Yellow Registers were, predictably, lost.

With no evidence left, both sides returned to square one, each clinging to their own claims.

The five counties insisted their data was clear and irrefutable, thoroughly dismantling She County’s argument.

She County replied: “The Great Ming Code never required our county to pay alone; as for your data, the Yellow Registers are folk-compiled records—unreliable. ‘The Great Ming Code is the ancestral constitution establishing law and order; the Yellow Registers are merely folk-compiled documents.’”

Though the Provincial Governor’s office could not determine truth, the imperial edict’s pressure naturally tilted their stance.

Thus, they seized on the New Policy keyword “equalization,” applied a series of calculations, and distributed the silken fabric tax equally among the five counties.

It was not simple equal division: She County’s 6,145 taels were redistributed, with 5,260 taels shifted to the other five counties—details are recorded in “A Study on the Dispute Over Silken Fabric Burden in Late Ming Huizhou Prefecture” (Chinese Historical Studies, Issue 2, 2002).

The five counties naturally refused to accept this, relentlessly denouncing Minister of Revenue Yin Zhengmao for favoring his hometown, accusing him of “using Ministry resources to buy personal favor, and a Minister of State to overturn established law,” and even cursing him with “may his son be born without a penis, may gods and men curse him.”

Seeing the unrest escalate, Huizhou Prefecture, in consultation with the Military Supply Commissioner, reduced the five counties’ share from 5,260 taels to 3,300 taels, effectively splitting the burden equally between She County and the five counties.

This muddy compromise was acceptable; Yin Zhengmao endorsed it: “The name is proper, the reasoning smooth, the matter easily resolved.”

It also received the Grand Secretariat’s vermilion approval.

But the five counties refused compromise: “We’ve found our data, cited imperial precedents, uncovered She County’s mulberry fields—now you tell us to compromise?”

The imperial edict was sent to Wuyuan County; the acting Assistant Prefect Xu Tingzhu was seized by the populace.

Thousands armed with wooden clubs and torches guarded him day and night.

The newly appointed County Magistrate Shu Bangru arrived to clean up the mess; as he entered Huizhou Prefecture, he was met by county residents Cheng Wenchang and Hu Wensheng: “The entire county’s village heads, elders, and commoners blocked the road, submitting petitions, their anger boiling over, shouting and rioting.” The protest wasn’t enough—Wuyuan residents then blockaded the county office, seized the Ziyang Academy grounds, and established a deliberative hall to lead the uprising: “Crowds swelled to tens of thousands, ringing bells to rally allies, raising flags, forming alliances, demanding redress. Roads were blocked, official communications severed.”

The deliberative hall soon began “collecting donations,” levying six coppers per shi of grain to “maintain the operation of the mob.”

Xiuning County went further: tens of thousands gathered, “laid ladders against the county wall, tore down official notices, hid them at home, incited ignorant villagers to gather at the assembly hall, petition for justice, and shouted outside the gates demanding compliance.”

During this time, they looted, burned, seized the county office, held the magistrate hostage, and openly hoisted a yellow flag.

At this point, all five counties were effectively in a state of anarchy: “They gathered ignorant villagers and urban ruffians, waving flags and clamoring.”

Details are in Shao Shu: “Stele Commemorating the Departure of County Magistrate Chen of Yanping,” Wanli “Xiuning County Annals,” Volume 7, “Literary Collection – Records,” copied from Wanli-era woodblock edition.

Even the garrison troops stationed in the five counties fled in terror.

The garrison commander Zhao Lü, a native of She County, fled back to She County overnight, telling the Military Supply Commissioner that the five counties were preparing rebellion and he could no longer remain.

Hearing they were branded as rebels, the five counties retaliated, accusing She County of plotting rebellion.

They seized the county offices and began issuing official documents to the provincial administrations of Zhejiang, Jiangxi, Fujian, and Guangdong.

The letters claimed the five counties were under attack by tens of thousands of She County bandits; the magistrates were captured, the Military Supply Commissioner besieged, and She County would soon seize Huizhou Prefecture, spill beyond its borders, and vie for the empire.

For a time, half of southern China trembled.

Only then did the Nanjing Provincial Governor decide to deploy the Military Supply Commissioner to suppress the unrest: “If any individual in any county dares incite rebellion, he shall be bound and beaten by military law before being punished—no leniency.”

As the situation spiraled beyond control, censors who reported on public sentiment heard the rumors.

They immediately petitioned the court: “This unrest is too massive—its root must be addressed. Is the silken fabric case fair? Is Yin Zhengmao favoring his hometown?”

The five counties had finally demonstrated their political value.

A decree arrived from the Hall of Literary Glory, ordering Huizhou Prefecture to reconsider.

First round of reconsideration: propose dividing the silken fabric tax by population—She County pays 4,145 taels, the five counties pay 2,000 taels, and the remaining 500 taels the prefecture will find a way to cover—acceptable?

The five counties stared in disbelief: Huh?

Huizhou Prefecture reluctantly replied: “The prefecture annually collects a military supply tax with a surplus of 1,950 taels, previously retained. From now on, we will remit this surplus to the court to offset the five counties’ share.”

With the prefecture footing the bill, all six counties were pacified: She County’s burden was shared, and the five counties bore no actual cost.

As for the remaining 500 taels, the Military Supply Commissioner delicately intervened: “In recent years, I’ve accidentally collected the military supply tax twice from Huizhou Prefecture. From now on, I’ll collect only once—saving exactly 500 taels”—the so-called “assistance tax” mentioned earlier.

Specific allocation is recorded in Cheng Renqing: “Complete Book of Silken Fabric,” Volume 6, “Imperial Edict Requesting County Commitment Documents,” page 572.

The matter was essentially resolved.

The court intended to punish the powerful families who had driven the affair, but when the edict reached Huizhou Prefecture, the office replied with “Huizhou Prefecture’s Report: No Powerful Families Exist”—no powerful families meant no one to arrest.

In the end, Shuai Jiamo was still exiled, sentenced to one hundred strokes and three thousand li banishment, dispatched to guard the frontier.

Ironically, Cheng Renqing, who led the deliberative hall, was the most politically dangerous—he was sentenced to death with reprieve.

Of course, in Ming China, popular uprisings rarely resulted in execution.

Cheng Renqing, idle in prison, collected all materials on the case and wrote the “Complete Book of Silken Fabric.”

Cheng Renqing himself was rescued by Yu Maoxue—the very man who had fought in the Hall of Literary Glory—and his sentence was commuted to exile; later, he earned merit, was promoted to commander, and returned home in glory.

Of course, there was another thread of court intrigue: during this time, She County accused the five counties’ uprising of being orchestrated by Yu Maoxue.

Yu Maoxue flew into a rage, claiming Zhang Juzheng had ordered his downfall and targeted the Director of the Imperial Seal Office, Wang Wenhui, because Zhang Juzheng had instructed the Nanjing Censor Zheng Guoshi to implicate Yu Maoxue.

Yin Zhengmao also wrote to the Huizhou Prefect, hinting at Yu Maoxue’s connection to the unrest: “If you lose in the countryside, settle it at court.”

Wang Xijue, Lu Guangzu, and Li Shida acted as mediators, visiting both sides to urge them to cease hostilities.

The court was quite busy during this period.

But literary memorials often exaggerated.

Thus, the court intrigue thread is best heard as mere rumor.

PS: Don’t think the author’s posting this standalone delays updates—in fact, posting this proves the author is sitting at the computer, with Writer’s Assistant open! What a heartwarming scene—applause, please.

(End of Chapter)