Chapter 958 - Summer Tax (Part 2)
"You're dreaming!" Just as the farmers were cheerfully discussing their good fortune, a man sauntered over—his clothes of fine cut and quality, yet conspicuously covered with several patches. One patch nearly swallowed a third of his wide, flowing sleeve. "Nothing in this world comes so cheap!"
This patch-clad "gentleman" was known locally as Master Na. His ancestors had once been a household of considerable property, but by his generation, a dispute over tax levies had led to a lawsuit—engineered by a powerful rival family—that had brought the household to ruin. He had been left a penniless "man of genteel status." In better years, the family had purchased a jiansheng degree. Though this had later been revoked as collateral damage from the lawsuit, everyone knew he'd been wronged, and so they still addressed him respectfully as "Master."
Master Na was a decent sort who loved championing justice, and he enjoyed a modest local reputation. Hearing him speak, the crowd pressed him to share his views on this "Great Song summer tax."
"Since when has there been no imperial grain to pay?" Master Na had studied the proclamation seven or eight times over. He grasped the concept of "apportioning corvée into land"—it resembled the Single Whip Reform that Grand Secretary Zhang had implemented years before, except the Single Whip had only consolidated miscellaneous taxes without basing them on land quantity. Though Master Na was poor, he was also well-read. He quickly perceived the greatest benefit of apportioning corvée into land: it would render the population crystal clear. Since corvée silver would be calculated by land acreage, households would have no reason to conceal their true numbers.
Ever since the Yongle reign, the Great Ming's total registered household population had been in constant decline—a profoundly abnormal phenomenon. After Yongle, the dynasty had been roughly stable; by generous standards, one might even call it a "prosperous age." Yet during this supposed prosperity, the population hadn't grown but had instead plummeted, clearly due to vast numbers of fugitives and unregistered "black households" slipping through the cracks.
Qiongzhou Prefecture harbored many such black households and fugitives who had fled the mainland. With this new measure, the Australians' purpose was almost certainly to clarify exactly how many souls Qiongzhou Prefecture actually contained.
Connecting this to Lingao's massive "population census," Master Na felt he suddenly understood the Australians' scheming.
"This isn't the Great Song's summer tax at all," Master Na began pedantically, launching into a discourse on historical records of Song dynasty tax systems to demonstrate that "the Great Song never had such a thing as apportioning corvée into land." Observing the impatient expressions spreading across the surrounding peasants' faces, he couldn't help but sigh to himself: Casting pearls before swine!
So he brought the discussion back to practical ground: "...Anyway, this isn't some Great Song system—it's a new trick the out— the Australians concocted themselves!"
A young man asked: "Master Na, whether it's a Great Song trick or an Australian trick, we country folk can't tell the difference. Just tell us straight—is the summer tax payment method really as the proclamation says? Those with more land pay more, those with less pay less, and those under twenty mu don't pay at all?"
"That's indeed what the proclamation says." Master Na waved his worn-out fan. "But ever since the first dynasty was founded, paying grain and serving corvée has been the natural order of things—how can it simply vanish? The claim that those with little land can pay less or nothing at all—I suspect that's just talk." He harbored a fundamental distrust of government and, by extension, of all governments. In his view, whether it was the Great Ming, the Great Song, or some strange Australian realm, they were all cut from the same cloth. How else could those in power enjoy silk and satin, with honored wives and favored sons, if not by exploiting the common people?
An old man spoke up: "Master Na! I've heard the Australians have always been true to their word—once they say something, they honor it..."
Master Na snorted. "Since ancient times, there's never been a trustworthy official. Take the former Magistrate Wang—when visiting the prefectural academy, he spoke beautifully of 'heavenly principle and human conscience.' But when it came to his own conduct, he couldn't suppress his desires—not only did he amass a fortune, he found all sorts of ways to acquire women. Even the emperor's own words they can twist and evade..."
The old man glanced around fearfully and called out in alarm: "Master Na! Master Na!"
"Don't worry!" Master Na appeared utterly unconcerned. "The Australians have no time to bother with a poor wretch like me! What they want is to dig silver from the big households' pockets—that's what matters most. The common people have all suffered through the disaster—where would they find grain and money?"
Master Na's insight proved to be shared by the local major landowners. Apportioning corvée into land, progressive taxation—all the signs pointed unmistakably toward the Australians preparing to "eat the big households." The major landowners grew nervous. After some coordination among themselves, the fierce backlash Liu Xiang had anticipated failed to materialize. Instead, a delegation of major landowners—who had specifically dressed in tattered clothing for the occasion—arrived collectively at the county office to "petition." Each wept and wailed about how much harvest they had lost to the disaster and how they simply couldn't afford to pay the summer tax. Liu Xiang received them with amiable smiles and deflected with small talk, but his jaw remained firmly clenched. He refused to budge an inch.
Disappointed, they went to consult Hai Shuzu. Hai Shuzu himself faced little pressure—he had "fully contracted" all his land to the Tiandihui, and even taxes were now the Tiandihui's responsibility. The summer levy was of no great concern to him personally. But pressed by the weight of collective expectations, he felt obliged to make another overture.
"Old Hai!" Liu Xiang greeted him warmly. "I already know why you're here!" Then he added: "Settle yourself more firmly in that chair—don't sit so stiffly!"
"Propriety demands it—I dare not be presumptuous." Hai Shuzu shifted slightly to show he respected the superior official's command, but remained seated very correctly. Truthfully, he didn't much care for the "Chiefs'" habit of calling people "Old X" or "Little X." Though he understood it was meant to convey familiarity, the mode of address sat uncomfortably with him.
"You're here because those landlords sent you to plead poverty and request tax reductions, correct?"
"That is so, Chief." Hai Shuzu nodded. "This humble scholar is merely fulfilling an entrusted task." Feeling this answer sounded somewhat inappropriate, he hastily added: "Though each household possesses considerable land, not all are truly wealthy. After the wind and water disasters, life is difficult. I hope the Chief will take note."
Liu Xiang nodded. "Of course. However, the majority are probably 'wealthy,' aren't they? Besides, though life may not be easy, no one has yet reached the point of going hungry and having to sell children, daughters, or wives." He rose and paced a few steps. "It's the common people whose lives truly cannot continue..."
Hai Shuzu said: "Yes. What the Chief says is true. However, since ancient times, landowners and scholars have been the foundation of any dynasty. Please preserve their dignity, Chief." He paused to organize his thoughts. "Please consider this carefully. Now that the Chiefs' situation is newly established, 'stability' should be the priority. The allegiance of gentry and scholars cannot be disregarded..."
Liu Xiang thought these major landowners possessed quite the sense of superiority. Were Qiongshan not so impoverished and lacking in literary tradition, the resistance would probably be far fiercer. But the latter part of Hai Shuzu's statement clearly indicated that the man had already come to consider himself part of the "new dynasty" and was being this candid precisely because of that commitment.
Liu Xiang waited for him to finish before speaking. "Old Hai, since you trust us so much, let me be more direct. What we need right now is grain. The common people didn't have much to begin with, and now with the disaster, they certainly can't produce any. Am I right? To find grain, only the major landowners have any to give."
Hai Shuzu nodded.
"If I wanted to accomplish this simply and effortlessly, I could invite all the major landowners here, then demand that each household produce several hundred or thousand shi. Anyone who refuses gets dragged out and beheaded. Could I get the grain that way?"
Hai Shuzu smiled bitterly. "That would be the conduct of bandits, not becoming of gentlemen. The Chiefs all have great ambitions..."
Liu Xiang replied: "Let's say you're right—that approach is too much like bandits. Well, I have something here that isn't bandit-like at all." He pointed to a pile of ledgers on his desk. "This is the list and amounts of Qiongshan County's tax arrears over the years." He smiled. "I hadn't expected that those who owe the most taxes aren't the common people at all, but rather the dynasty's so-called 'foundation.'"
Hai Shuzu's face reddened; he found himself at a loss for words.
"I'll just use these ledgers as the basis for discussion. I'll have these tax-delinquent major landowners pay up all their arrears plus years of accumulated interest. Even the Great Ming's emperor couldn't claim I was doing anything improper, could he? Should they pay, or shouldn't they?"
"They should." Hai Shuzu hadn't expected Director Liu to possess this particular card. Gentry and major landowners defaulting on taxes was a common practice throughout the Great Ming—nothing unusual whatsoever. In the Jiangnan region, some landowners hadn't paid for decades. The court had long since given up any expectation of collecting these back taxes.
Hai Shuzu returned empty-handed. Liu Xiang refused to yield a single point on the summer tax. Though the major landowners privately cursed him with venom, swords spoke louder than lips. Besides, the pacification campaign and land survey had already taught them sufficient lessons—they knew better than to try openly opposing the Australians.
As the tax collectors Chen Ce had trained took up their stations, the first batch of tax notices began to be delivered by special messenger.
There were two types of notices. The first was a public announcement, organized by dū and posted widely at markets and villages within each district. Listed by household head, the notice itemized each household's actual landholding, its conversion to "standard mu," the applicable tier, the amount owed, any exemptions, and the conditions for exemption—all publicly disclosed. Those with objections could file appeals at the tax bureau.
The second type was the "influential household" notice. These were hand-delivered by special messenger to landowners possessing more than five hundred mu. As wealthy major taxpayers, they merited personally delivered notices. The content was identical to the public announcements, but each influential household notice required a receipt bearing the recipient's seal and signature.
Liu Xiang stipulated that any notice remaining undeliverable for more than forty-five days because no one would sign for it meant the household would be deemed not to be an "influential household"—and all its registered land would be confiscated. Under this forceful rule, the delivery rate for influential household notices reached one hundred percent before half a month had elapsed.
Note: "Influential household" was a term from the Song dynasty tax system.
(End of Chapter)