Chapter 53
There was once a truth in the distribution industry that was treated like gospel.
The fewer middlemen and transporters a product had to pass through, the lower the price would be.
When that saying was coined, it wasn't wrong.
A cabbage that cost less than 100 won at the farm would become 200 won after one middleman, 280 won after a wholesaler, 380 won after the auction house, and 500 won at a vegetable retailer...
because if the cabbage farmer sold directly to a vegetable shop or a big-box mart, they could sell it for around 300 won.
Even now, if you believe that and go to a port city for sashimi, the freshness will of course be excellent, but the price is often higher than what you'd pay in Seoul...
But that's a story for 21st-century modern society; in Joseon, the line still held true.
The more middlemen there were, the more people there were to skim off the top.
“Hah, my mother likes pears, so I was trying to buy some good ones... but I suppose I won’t be able to bring the tasty pears His Majesty enjoys back to my mother.”
In Joseon, failing to properly honor your parents was treated as a 'capital crime.' That went for yangban, middle class, commoners, and lowborn alike.
Even if a penniless man got caught stealing one or two pears, if he said he was trying to give them to his sick mother or father, kindhearted people would sympathize with his 'filial piety' and even hand them over.
So when I said I wanted to buy local specialties out of filial piety, everyone started to sympathize.
When I pretended to be gloomy, the man quietly drinking makgeolli beside me spoke up.
“Sir, just because they’re pears presented to His Majesty doesn’t mean they’re automatically amazing.”
“What do you mean? If they’re being presented to His Majesty, shouldn’t they naturally be the best?”
The man drinking makgeolli set down his makgeolli cup and snickered.
"Sir, I know because I work for the merchant caravan handling the pears offered as tribute this time. Certainly, since they’re for His Majesty, they don’t offer anything inferior... but because the temple and the magistrate are in cahoots, taking 'bribes' in exchange for allowing the tribute to be submitted, they just offer ordinary pears you can find anywhere."
Joseon had no quality-control system, no grading system, or anything like that.
Hanwoo beef wasn't graded into 1++, 1+ and the like, and fruit wasn't measured by size and sweetness to determine whether it was top-grade or inferior.
In other words, as long as it looked fine, they could call it the finest quality and offer it as tribute; there was no standard to tell otherwise...
If temples, government offices, and merchants colluded to submit merely decent goods instead of true top-quality items as tribute, there was no way to crack down on it.
Without standards, how could anyone enforce anything?
"If you’d like to buy good pears in Andong, would you like me to introduce you to someone?"
"Please do."
When I signaled him, Kim Mandeok handed the man a fan. In Joseon, everyone used fans in summer, so it was a fairly useful item.
There probably wasn't anyone who would refuse that.
"Aside from that, are there any interesting rumors in the district?"
What a secret royal inspector does is inspect the district, and if he finds a problem, he locks up the government office warehouse and carries out searches and seizures while digging through the paperwork.
That’s why historians say a secret royal inspector was no different from a prosecutor’s investigation...
Just thinking that I’d actually be doing a search and seizure I’d never even done in a previous life made my chest swell with excitement.
**
Joseon officials were underpaid.
More precisely, considering the social privileges, status, rank, and workload they enjoyed, their actual pay was extremely low.
Usually, when that happens, the appeal of public office declines in modern states, but Joseon was different.
If the stipend was too low, it was common sense to find ways to make up for it on their own.
Even with the Bangwon Law in effect, there were still plenty of ways to siphon off money.
"Chief Clerk Kim."
"Yes, Magistrate."
Anseong County Magistrate Yi Seok-do, drawing on his 20 years in office, already knew exactly where money could be squeezed out and how to siphon it off without being caught.
"Have you prepared the tribute goods well?"
"Of course, Magistrate. They say collecting taxes from the poor has become a little harder because of the Bangwon Law, but what can one do? Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"...... Hmm, very commendable. In my 20 years in office, this is the first time I've seen such an excellent clerk as you."
"I’m honored, Magistrate."
"What method did you use?"
A bright smile spread across the chief clerk's face.
Yi Seok-do liked the chief clerk.
He was glad to have such a corrupt—no, wise—clerk as the chief clerk of their county.
"We used a method we’ve always used, but one that doesn't run afoul of the law. We cut the 'handling fee' paid to the temple down to one-tenth (10%) of the usual amount, and we told the merchants that if they didn’t offer the tribute goods at a proper price, we would inspect them harshly. That way, we were able to procure the tribute for less than half of what it used to cost."
Yi Seok-do almost slapped his knee in admiration, because he thought the chief clerk's trick was ingenious.
But there was one thing he still didn't quite understand.
The Bangwon Law said not to go through temples, so why insist on putting a temple in the middle?
"If the temple gets involved in preparing the tribute, wouldn't we have to pay them a handling fee? Why should we be handing over precious rice to those damned monks while arranging the tribute..."
"The monks have been doing business with us for a long time, and if the government deals directly with the merchants, the unit price of the tribute will go up quite a bit."
Hearing that, Yi Seok-do more or less caught on.
He realized that more than half of that one-tenth handling fee had probably gone into the chief clerk's and the other clerks' pockets.
But in Joseon, if you wanted to stay in office for a long time, a spirit of mutual benefit was important.
If the clerks had done their 'work,' then unless he turned a blind eye to their taking a little fee for their trouble, it would be hard to keep serving as magistrate.
But there was a world of difference between turning a blind eye and knowing nothing at all, so Yi Seok-do decided a light warning was necessary.
"We must keep the monks from acting like they run the government office. Otherwise, as a Joseon magistrate, I’ll have no choice but to punish them severely."
"Of course not, Magistrate."
"By the way, how much did we collect in tribute payments this time?"
"Last year we collected 15,841 seom of white rice, and this year 19,432 seom. The harvest was similar, but since we collected without exception even from the yangban lords’ lands, this was possible."
The old tax-collection method roughly took the income gap between rich and poor into account, and just taxed households as if it were a head tax.
As a result, the effective tax rate was 5 percent for the rich and over 50 percent for the poor.
As in other countries, most of Joseon's wealth was concentrated in a handful of rich people, and because they were taxed lightly, tax revenue was always short...
Now that tribute was collected by land area, regardless of whether one was rich or poor, taxation had become rational, and that made this possible.
"So taxes went up, yet the people are praising how much easier it is to make a living. As expected, the Bangwon Law—or rather, Kim Juk-heon, who laid the groundwork for it (Kim Daebung's pen name)—is an incredible man. Joseon has truly produced a great man."
Yi Seok-do was fond of Kim Daebung.
Thanks to changing the tax law, more tribute was collected, and thanks to putting the basics of tribute trade in order, they could buy it at lower prices than before.
That also meant there was more room to skim off the top than before.
Moreover, although Yi Seok-do had spent 20 years in office, he had never even imagined a tax law like the Bangwon Law.
Knowing that Kim Daebung, who had proposed such a law, and himself weren't even comparable, he didn't feel the slightest urge to envy or resent him.
"Magistrate, let me congratulate you in advance."
"For what?"
"Because you’ve properly enforced the Bangwon Law, the people are shouting 'Long live His Majesty the Retired King,' aren’t they? Once this news reaches the court, it won’t be far-fetched for you to rise to a senior court post someday."
"Hmph, a senior post is something His Majesty must personally choose. How can you spout such reckless nonsense so casually?"
Yi Seok-do burst out in anger.
But the chief clerk didn't look intimidated at all.
Because he could see the pleased smile on the man's face, as if he were pretending to be angry while telling him to hurry up and flatter him some more.
"His Majesty surely knows all about your devotion to the people, Magistrate, doesn’t he? So there will definitely be good news."
"Ahem, ahem."
"If nothing else, your performance review this time will definitely be Sangsang (the highest grade), Magistrate."
"If that happens, I’ll reward you and the other six clerks handsomely."
"Thank you, Magistrate."
Thus, Anseong County’s number one and number two men renewed their resolve to keep feathering their nests together.
"Come to think of it, the newly arrived court entertainer named Chunhyang is famous for her exceptional beauty. It may be a bother, Magistrate, but could you take her maidenhead?"
"...... Chief Clerk Kim, let’s keep getting along in the future."
"As the years go by, the regulations will only loosen, so from here on out we’ll be able to make even more money..."
"Glad we see eye to eye."
Raising a courtesan’s hair was slang for taking her virginity.
So from Yi Seok-do’s perspective, there was no reason to refuse.
If he liked her, he could just take her home as a concubine...
But Yi Seok-do’s happiness would not last long.
Because Kim Daebung was striding straight toward the Anseong government office.