Chapter 6
Trade makes everyone rich.
Suppose there is a county where rice farming thrives and another where iron is abundant.
Even if there were plenty of plains suited for rice farming, if you had no farming tools for cultivating the fields, you'd make tools out of stone if you had to... but you still couldn't expect a proper harvest from that.
Conversely, even if there were iron everywhere to make good tools, people still couldn't eat iron, so they'd end up starving anyway.
But what if you made farming tools in the county where iron was plentiful, used those tools to farm in the county best suited to rice cultivation, and then paid rice in return?
The rice harvest in the farming county would multiply several times over, and the people of both counties would be able to live in abundance.
The same goes for the specialty goods offered as tribute. If you force rice farmers to go hunt down special products, it'll be agony for them, but if you give them those goods in exchange for a reasonable amount of rice...?
Everyone would be able to eat rice, dried persimmons, and anchovies too.
What if this were expanded from the county level to all eight provinces of Joseon?
Our county would surely grow rich.
"First, increase the number of anchovy-fishing boats and expand the land for persimmon trees as well."
"Other magistrates have said we should keep commerce to a minimum, cut back on boats, and warn that if we grow too much fruit, the people will become addicted to the luxury of eating fruit..."
"Rice is more expensive than barley because it's a little harder to harvest. Fruit and anchovies are expensive for the same reason: the yearly yield is small."
At the supermarket, you can buy 1 kg of shiitake mushrooms for around 10,000 won.
By contrast, in Joseon, if you wanted to buy 1 kg of shiitake mushrooms, you'd have trouble getting any even if you offered five or six sacks of rice.
Could it be that Joseon's shiitake mushrooms taste better than Korea's, and that their medicinal effects are absurdly better?
Of course not. It's because Joseon had no technology for cultivating shiitake mushrooms artificially, so the yield was low.
Why are persimmons expensive? Because they pressure people from every direction, telling them not to be extravagant and plant fruit trees, but to focus only on rice and barley farming. Anchovies are roughly the same.
Joseon is a country with a strong tendency to force everyone to live frugally, and because of that, instead of thinking about how to make expensive things cheaper...
...it just says not to make them at all, since if you don't use them, that's that.
"His Majesty wants the people to eat lots of tasty things. Persimmons, anchovies, and, if possible, meat once every few days too. To do that, people like you have to grow your businesses bigger and help the common folk buy dried persimmons and anchovies at lower prices, don't you think?"
In Korea, that is perfectly normal, but in Joseon, the very idea is abnormal.
To put it bluntly, until the 16th century, Joseon officials would immediately crack down on any "naturally occurring market" they saw.
So for the merchants, the fact that a magistrate who should have been a Neo-Confucian old fogey thought of them that way left them dumbstruck.
"Yes, that's right."
"So as long as you don't break the law or cheat on the taxes you owe, there will be no reason for you to be persecuted just because I am the magistrate of Jinhae County. The bigger your business grows, and the easier it becomes to obtain dried persimmons, anchovies, and paulownia-wood crafts, the lighter the people's tribute burdens will become."
"We are deeply grateful."
Other magistrates would have ignored the merchants and barked at them; if they so much as talked back, they'd have scolded them for being insolent merely because they were merchants.
But I was saying I would directly support them in growing their businesses.
They would want to offer me a "certain amount of gifts" even without any special hint from me.
Just like conglomerate chairmen and small- and medium-business chairmen stuffing lawmakers with holiday gifts.
Someone looking at me might say this is contradictory.
If I tried to lower taxes while thinking only from the peasants' point of view... could I guarantee them their previous supply prices?
I really have no intention of being a government official forever, but while I am one, I have to keep a little something in my back pocket just to survive.
Otherwise I wouldn't be able to survive Joseon's damned holiday-gift culture.
By next year alone, people all around will be hounding me, now appointed as the magistrate of Jinhae County, for holiday gifts.
And even aside from that, can't I get rich too?
"And I will change the tax basis as well. In the past, the clerks arbitrarily estimated how much money you had and assessed taxes and things like stall fees accordingly. But from now on, I will assess taxes in proportion to the number of persimmon trees and the number of anchovy boats you have."
Even if they set it up like this, those guys would try every trick they could to reduce their taxes.
If the number of boats was obvious and they couldn't reduce that, they'd fake their "catch volume" instead.
Or they'd secretly remove about 1,000 trees from a persimmon orchard with 10,000 trees, as long as they stayed within the range where we wouldn't notice.
Even conglomerate chairmen don't want to pay taxes, so they even transfer buildings to three-year-olds and stuff.
Those guys are local tycoons with wealth that no one could envy, so there was no way they wouldn't do the same.
"Magistrate, if you suddenly change the tax system like that, it'll be hard for us to handle."
"I will make sure that no corrupt clerks go around oppressing you or collecting money and goods under pretexts like stall fees. Then, long-term, that will benefit you; it won't be a loss."
The clerks don't know how much money those guys are making.
But Joseon made the tax system weird, so there are taxes paid to the central government, but for the expenses of running local offices, it doesn't even bother calculating a tax at all.
The clerks have to make a living on their own, maintain their dignity, and even set aside money for the magistrate's salary and holiday gifts, so who else would they squeeze? Merchants and peasants, of course.
It's not yet the era of the Three Tax Corruptions, but the merchants must have been getting squeezed for 30% to 50% of their annual income by those corrupt clerks every year, all while being oppressed and looked down on.
"And the reason this magistrate forgives you and does not dig up your crimes is not because you are good commoners. You all weren't inflating the prices a little when you handed offerings to those bald-headed monks over there, were you?"
"Yes..."
"If you hate that, then I suppose you can just die. What are you going to do?"
"We will make sure to pay our taxes properly."
"Good. Also, expand the persimmon groves and recruit the crew for the anchovy-fishing boats from among those in this county who don't have work. And don't set their wages absurdly low. Otherwise, as the county magistrate, I'll have no choice but to practice my 'love of the people.'"
In other words, I'm warning you that if you want to grow your business and get rich, listen to me and treat the people well.
Otherwise you'll become the subject of my love-of-the-people experiment.
No, with Mace-Wielding Yi Bang-won still alive, those bastards might get their heads cracked open and die in Hanyang.
"We will do as the magistrate says."
After finishing my conversation with them, I talked with the clerks and decided that we would return only half of the 4,700 seom of white rice we recovered from those damn monks to the people.
One clerk, who had completely lost his senses, suggested that we take the 2,350 seom of white rice we'd set aside from the 4,700 and split it among ourselves.
Even if I live in a world where, if you don't skim taxes and line your own pockets, you die, I had no intention of touching that, so I gave him a mild warning.
The guy who received that mild warning came to work the next day with both eyes bruised purple by the other clerks.
"Since 2,350 seom will go back to the people, they must be overjoyed."
Then where would I use the white rice I skimmed off? I'd use it for something truly worthwhile.
**
Someone once described a Joseon magistrate like this.
"He is the police chief, the chief judge, and the mayor of a city all in one."
"Even if doing just one of those jobs wears out your body, taking on three of them leaves you no body left."
But just because the weight on my shoulders is heavy, am I supposed to do Sejong the Great's entrusted work halfheartedly?
Would Heo Jo and Hwang Hui, who are waiting to drill into me the proper mindset a bureaucrat should have through the myeonsin rite (an initiation ceremony, a feast of every kind of absurdity), just leave me alone?
I would be subjected to such absurdity that two years in the army would look like heaven.
"Magistrate, everything is ready."
Today is that day. The day I give those monks who got rich off bangnap a proper lesson.
Those bastards are the ones who have been giving me headaches, so they ought to pay for their crimes with the cudgel.
"I am the newly appointed magistrate of this county. I will govern this county fairly and let His Majesty's civilizing influence reach you. Therefore, today, I will punish the criminals who have been tormenting you."
The county people looked at the face of the culprit who had appeared and let out cries of shock.
"What? Isn't that the abbot of Seongheungsa?"
"Why on earth have the monks become criminals?"
Regardless of whether it was early, middle, or late Joseon, monks held a pretty decent position.
Since they were the people who guaranteed the afterlife after death, even the families of high ministers would secretly fund them to recite sutras for them.
No wonder people would object to seeing respected monks in that state.
"The damn monks here, including the abbot of Seongheungsa, took your tribute and said they would pay it to the state in your stead, then embezzled as much as 4,700 seom of white rice. Because of that, your lives became harder—how could I not punish them?"
One seom of white rice, to put it with only a slight exaggeration, can feed one adult man for about a year.
So 4,700 seom is as much rice as would feed 4,700 people for a year. Naturally, that's an enormous sum.
"Therefore, this magistrate intends to sentence these damn monks to 20 strokes of the cudgel, then send them to Hanyang to receive their rightful punishment."
Once they go up to Hanyang, these guys are definitely going to lose their heads.
Because Heo Jo will throw a fit, saying that monks should stop swindling people and that those bastards absolutely need to be killed.
And Yi Bang-won will be furious, saying he'll bring a mace down on the heads of the men who disturbed the people's livelihood.
"Beat those bastards hard!"
The constables at the magistrate's office beat the criminals hard.
Some of the damn monks who took all 20 strokes lost consciousness.
The people's expressions were a little complicated. It was something they deserved, but still, they were monks they had respected.
That's why I had said we should first decide how much white rice should be given back to the people.
If I hand the rice back here right now? Then I'd become the hero who saved them from exploitation.
"People, go to the main gate in front of the magistrate's office. Then you will each be given half a sack of rice."
"Half a sack of rice?"
"It's the rice those damn monks squeezed out of your blood being returned to you. And from now on, the magistrate's office will buy tribute goods directly from the merchants, so the taxes you have to pay will also be reduced."
As soon as I finished speaking, cheers and cries of "Ten thousand years!" erupted from all around.
"Ten thousand years! Long live His Majesty the King!"
"Long live the new magistrate!"
"Thank you, Magistrate!"
...... Looking at that sight, I couldn't help thinking it was really a good thing I passed the civil service exam.
I don't mind being worked to death by Sejong, though.