Chapter 2772: The Capital (Part 128)

Anping had been reduced to a ruined port after the Battle of Jinmen, and Guangzhou—the only remaining alternative—had fallen when the Kun invaded. The Imperial Court could no longer collect a single silver coin from maritime trade.

The court ministers did not consider the loss of overseas trade ports particularly troubling. For most of the Great Ming's history, the ocean had brought only threats, not income. Defending against "Japanese Pirates" and "Ocean Bandits" from the Eastern and Western seas required heavy expenditures on coastal fortifications.

The "Opening of the Seas in the Longqing Reign" (Longqing Kaihai) is written about with special significance in history books. In truth, if one examined the policy's content and the circumstances of its passage, the so-called "Opening of the Seas" was more a desperate measure of "banning through taxation." Since the government could not prohibit private overseas trade, they opened a narrow crack, transforming a portion of the underground economy into legitimate commerce so they could extract taxes from it. This did not mean the Great Ming had recognized the importance of maritime merchant trade, nor that the dynasty had fundamentally changed its attitude toward commerce.

The choice of Moon Port (Yuegang) as the designated port revealed the opening's expedient nature. The mountainous terrain surrounding Moon Port created a relatively closed, independent space. The land was scarce and barren, transportation inconvenient—the agriculture that the Great Ming encouraged could hardly develop here. The locals had no choice but to rely on the sea for their livelihoods, engaging in smuggling trade. In other words, this was a policy born of necessity. Moon Port's geographical conditions made it fundamentally unsuitable as an open port.

This half-hearted opening policy meant the Imperial Court paid no attention to developing maritime trade, and even intentionally restricted it. Even in the most prosperous year of 1594, Moon Port's total tax revenue amounted to less than thirty thousand taels—a mere drop in the bucket for the Great Ming's finances.

Wen Tiren hailed from Huzhou in Zhejiang, so he had personal experience with the lucrative nature of maritime trade. A large volume of silk fabrics exported overseas originated from his region. As a local member of the gentry, his annual income from selling raw silk and cocoons alone constituted a substantial sum. The other ministers, however, lacked such firsthand knowledge.

Liu Yuliang spoke up: "Your Majesty, when this dynasty opened its port following Moon Port's precedent, the annual Introduction Tax, Water Tax, Land Tax, and Added Tax totaled no more than twenty thousand taels. The claim that we can now obtain two hundred thousand taels of silver is pure fantasy."

The other cabinet ministers voiced their doubts in turn. Twenty thousand taels was no trifling sum. The commercial tax of a county in many regions amounted to only a few taels for an entire year. Although Shanghai County was wealthy, it surely could not conjure gold from stone.

Wen Tiren, however, knew these figures were no fantasy. He had heard of the enormous profits in maritime trade. In recent years especially, the Merchants Bureau Shipping Company (Zhaoshang Boat Firm) had used Shanghai as its base to conduct quiet business with Japan and Korea. The Jiangnan gentry who held shares had filled their coffers to overflowing. Although the Wen family had not directly purchased shares, his household served as one of the major raw silk suppliers for the Merchants Bureau Shipping Company. Raw silk sales alone netted them thousands of taels annually. If the Imperial Court opened a port in Shanghai and issued ship permits according to the Moon Port system of one hundred and ten permits for the Eastern and Western Oceans annually, then calculated based on Zheng Zhilong's collection of a "License Tax" of two thousand taels per ship in Anping, two hundred thousand taels would be easily achieved.

Who submitted this memorial? Wen Tiren wondered with secret surprise. He had read the summaries of all memorials sent by the Office of Transmission and was generally familiar with their contents. For over a year now, no one had submitted a memorial discussing opening a port and establishing customs.

The Emperor had dwelt deep within the palace for so long that he had never even left the capital; obviously, he had not conceived this idea himself. So who had submitted the memorial? Wen Tiren immediately thought of the eunuchs.

The greed of eunuchs was extraordinary, and there was precedent—during the Wanli reign, eunuchs had been dispatched to various tax barriers to serve as Tax Supervisors. Could the Emperor have recalled this practice under the eunuchs' influence?

But the current maritime trade interests in Jiangnan lay mostly in the hands of the Jiangnan scholar-gentry. If the Imperial Court opened a port and established customs in Shanghai, encroaching on their interests, it would be tantamount to snatching meat from a tiger's jaws.

Although Wen Tiren intended to punish the Restoration Society (Fushe), and establishing customs in Shanghai could indeed cut off their financial resources, he was unwilling to make enemies of the Jiangnan gentry. Moreover, the eunuchs had planned this matter without consulting him—he did not oppose them using this opportunity to amass wealth, but he had no interest in handing them a benefit for nothing.

He coughed lightly and said: "Opening a port can certainly increase the state's revenue. However, Shanghai County is not an appropriate choice." He elaborated: "Shanghai is a major county in Southern Zhili, only a few hundred li from Nanjing. A fast horse can travel between them from morning to evening. It also commands the main route where the Yangtze River meets the sea and serves as a critical defensive stronghold for coastal protection. The ports along river and sea are numerous while our naval vessels are few—defense would be exceedingly difficult. Therefore, it is unsuitable for trade."

The very advantages that made Shanghai ideal for maritime commerce were, in the eyes of seventeenth-century officials, its greatest liabilities. When Wen Tiren finished speaking, the cabinet ministers voiced their approval one after another.

Wen Tiren's arguments were well-reasoned and supported by evidence, and the Emperor found himself unable to refute them. After all, this was merely a suggestion from an obscure figure like Qian Taichong.

Seeing that the matter would proceed no further, Wen Tiren spoke again: "Although Shanghai is inappropriate, Your Majesty's suggestion of opening a port would indeed greatly benefit national affairs. This subject proposes that we select another location in the coastal provinces—one less strategically critical—to open a port and establish customs."

These words were perfectly calibrated and preserved the Emperor's dignity. Chongzhen felt quite satisfied. In truth, whether it was Moon Port, Guangzhou, or Shanghai, he held no particular preference. What had moved him was the prospect of two hundred thousand taels in revenue.

As long as he could collect money, he cared little where the port was located. He promptly praised: "Minister Wen's words are indeed those of an experienced and prudent statesman."

"Thank you, Long Live." Wen Tiren seized the opportunity to add that since this matter involved foreign barbarians and carried great importance, it might be wise to issue a clear decree ordering the Nine Ministers of the Six Ministries and the Administration Commissioners of the various coastal provinces to deliberate and submit their recommendations.

"What Minister Wen says is most sensible. This matter requires careful handling." The Emperor nodded. "Proceed as you suggest and issue a clear decree."

Wen Tiren returned to his residence, reflecting on the day's audience. The summons itself had held nothing remarkable; the strangest element was this mysterious memorial that had appeared from nowhere.

Although he had speculated that the eunuchs were behind it, upon further reflection after returning home, the matter seemed less straightforward.

Though Wen Tiren did not collude with eunuchs, he maintained considerable connections within the palace to stay abreast of developments in the Inner Court. If someone truly intended to seek the position of Customs Supervisor, there would not be complete silence on the matter.

Could it be not the eunuchs, but someone else secretly memorializing? Pondering this, Wen Tiren summoned a trusted long-time attendant, whispered a few instructions, and dispatched him to meet with a eunuch immediately to gather intelligence.

However, this was not his most pressing concern. Wen Tiren's political instincts were extraordinarily sharp. Since entering the Grand Secretariat, he had made many enemies. These political adversaries were now consolidating, plotting to drive him from the Grand Secretariat, and the Emperor had begun to reveal hints of dissatisfaction with him.

Once Sacred Favor waned, not only would his official career be imperiled, but his very life might hang in the balance. Ever since Wen Tiren learned that the Donglin and Restoration Society were scheming to restore Zhou Yanru to power, he had foreseen the ground beneath his feet beginning to shift.

If he wished to eliminate Zhou Yanru, his only recourse was to orchestrate a major case—just as he had once framed Bachelor Zheng Man to oust Wen Zhenmeng. But although Zhou Yanru's misdeeds were numerous, there were no fatal vulnerabilities to exploit, and he had already resigned and returned home. Unless Wen Tiren framed him for treason—and a treason case would inevitably involve the Eastern Depot and the Imperial Guard (Jinyiwei)—he could not be certain of bending Cao Huachun and Wu Mengming to his will.

What course remained? After much deliberation, he concluded that since the Donglin and Restoration Society were the driving forces behind Zhou Yanru's potential return, clipping their wings was also a viable strategy. Under his machinations over the years, the Donglin's power at court had been greatly diminished. The one truly capable of stirring trouble was the rising force: the Restoration Society.

The Restoration Society was known as the "Little Donglin." It shared many political positions and members with the Donglin Party, yet significant differences existed between them. First, the Restoration Society focused more on controlling the examination system to promote its disciples, while the Donglin concerned itself only with struggles within the Imperial Court and showed no interest in the examination field. Second, the Restoration Society emphasized controlling local areas, while the Donglin concentrated its efforts at the center.

Because the Restoration Society "spared no effort" in advancing its disciples, it had come to dominate the examination field, creating a phenomenon where "those who passed the exams were invariably Restoration Society members."

The mere existence of such an organization—even if it did nothing—was enough to make a powerful official like Wen Tiren feel thorns pricking his back. And this group was his enemy!

Because of its Donglin connections, Wen Tiren had long been at daggers drawn with the Restoration Society. In June of the sixth year of Chongzhen, shortly after Wen Tiren became Senior Grand Secretary, his younger brother Wen Yuren instigated Wu Bing of Yixing to write a play called "The Legend of the Green Peony," satirizing the Restoration Society's various scandals. Wen Yuren then ordered the book adapted into a stage script and performed throughout the region.

This affair caused enormous controversy, alerting Zhang Pu and Zhang Cai. The "Two Zhangs" traveled specially to Zhejiang and met with Education Commissioner Li Yuankan. Li Yuankan immediately ordered the book banned and destroyed, then pursued the author's responsibility by arresting and imprisoning members of Wen Yuren's household. After this incident, Wen Tiren recognized Zhang Pu's power for the first time. Though Zhang Pu no longer held office, he could still manipulate court politics from afar. So Wen Tiren resolved to eradicate the Restoration Society.

In the autumn of that year, Taicang suffered a poor harvest. The Two Zhangs wrote an article titled "Theory on Military Provisions," expressing opinions on disaster relief policies. Zhou Zhikui, the prefectural judge of Suzhou, accused the Two Zhangs of "violating ancestral systems and disrupting water transport regulations." Zhou Zhikui hailed from Fuzhou and had also joined the Restoration Society. He was friendly with Qian Qianyi and Qu Shisi of the Donglin Party and had served as head lecturer of Luce Academy. Because he was conceited about his high reputation, he was not accepted by other Restoration Society members, and he eventually developed a grudge against Zhang Pu.

However, his impeachment produced no effect. By July of the eighth year of Chongzhen, Zhou Zhikui was dismissed. Convinced that his downfall was the Restoration Society's doing, Zhou Zhikui grew furious. He wrote an article titled "Questions on the Restoration Society," accusing the society and the Two Zhangs. In May of the ninth year, Lu Wensheng of Taicang accused the Two Zhangs of "founding the Restoration Society to bring chaos to the realm." Wen Tiren seized the opportunity to forward the accusations of Zhou Zhikui and Lu Wensheng to the relevant departments for deliberation, hoping to instigate a major prison case.

But Wen Tiren had obviously underestimated the power of the "Hierarch that Reaches Heaven." Education Censor Ni Yuangong, Maritime Defense Vice Commissioner Feng Yuanyang, and Taicang Prefecture Magistrate Zhou Zhonglian all refused to execute the order, accepting demotion rather than act against the Two Zhangs. Wen Tiren's scheme suffered a setback.

This incident gave him a thorough understanding of the Restoration Society's formidable reach—and thereby hardened his determination to destroy it.

(End of Chapter)