JAPAN
1555-1645
After Xavier's time--Torres and Fernandes--Civandono--Nunhes and
Pinto--The King of Hirando--First Persecution--Gago and Vilela--
Almeida--Uprising against the Emperor--Justus Ucondono and
Nobunaga--Valignani--Founding of Nangasaki--Fervor and Fidelity
of the Converts--Embassy to Europe--Journey through Portugal,
Spain and Italy--Reception by Gregory XIII and Sixtus V--Return
to Japan--The Great Persecutions by Taicosama, Daifusama, Shogun
I and Shogun II--Spinola and other Martyrs--Arrival of
Franciscans and Dominicans--Popular eagerness for death--
Mastrilli--Attempts to establish a Hierarchy--Closing the Ports
--Discovery of the Christians.
When Francis Xavier bade farewell to Japan in 1551, he left behind him
Fathers Torres and Fernandes. They could not possibly have sufficed for
the vast work before them, and hence, in August of the following year,
Father Gago was sent with two companions, neither of whom was yet in
Holy Orders. They were provided with royal letters and well supplied
with presents to King Civandono, who was a devoted friend to Francis
Xavier.
The newcomers were amazed at the piety of the 3,000 Christians, who were
awaiting further instruction. They found them kind and charitable, very
much given to corporal austerities, and extremely scrupulous in matters
of conscience and there was no difficulty in getting enthusiastic
catechists among them to address the people and teach them the new
religion. As the belief of the Japanese, was then, as it is today,
Shintoism, which has no dogma, no moral law, and no books, and is
tinctured with Buddhism, the main doctrine of which is the
transmigration of souls, it was easy to arouse interest in a religion
which presented to their consideration spiritual doctrines, a moral law
and sacred books. In 1554 there were 1500 baptisms in the kingdom of
Arima alone, though no priest had as yet entered that part of the
country. The feudal system of government then prevailing made
conversions easy. Thus, when the Governor of Amaguchi became a
Christian, more than three hundred of his vassals and friends
immediately followed his example. This influence was still more in
evidence whenever a distinguished bonze accepted the Faith, an example
of which occurred when the two most celebrated personages of that class
came down from Kioto to Amaguchi for a public disputation. After the
conference they fell at the feet of Torres, and not only asked for
baptism, but became zealous instructors of the people. Naturally all the
bonzeries of the Empire were alarmed and they rose in revolt against the
Government for not checking these conversions. But Civandono called his
troops together to quell what soon assumed the proportions of organized
warfare. Indeed at one time, the insurgents seemed to be getting the
upper hand: but just as the king was on the point of being entrapped,
Fernandes at the risk of his life slipped through the ranks of the enemy
and gave Civandono information which won the victory. After that the
friendship of the monarch never failed his Christian subjects. He had
ample opportunity to show his devotion to them, for uprisings were as
common as the earthquakes in Japan, which were said to average three a
day.
Father Nunhes, the provincial, had been induced by the Viceroy of the
Indies to pay a visit to Japan at this juncture, and he arrived with
Father Vilela and a number of young scholastics. With them was a rich
Portuguese named Pinto, who had resolved to employ most of his money in
building a school in Civandono's dominions. In order to help the scheme,
the viceroy had made Pinto his ambassador. They arrived in April, 1556,
after a perilous journey, only to find a letter there from St. Ignatius,
reminding Father Nunhes that provincials had no business to undertake
such journeys and leave their official work to others. However, such a
pressing invitation had come meantime from the King of Firando or
Hirando, as it is now called, and the chance seemed so promising for the
king's conversion, that Father Nunhes presumed permission to delay his
return to India. He was received by Civandono, whom he had to visit on
his way to Hirando, with the same splendid ceremonies that had been
accorded to St. Francis Xavier; and, during a long conference which was
held with the help of Fernandes, he urged the king to become a
Christian, but Civandono insisted that reasons of State prevented him
from doing so for the moment. Nunhes then set out for Hirando, but fell
ill before he reached it, and, in consequence, was compelled to return
to Goa. As he had not converted a single idolater, and as Pinto's grand
plans for the education of the Japanese were a failure, the provincial
concluded that it would have been wiser to have remained in Hindostan,
where he was accomplishing great things, than to engage in apostolic
work to which obedience had not assigned him. Pinto's failure, however,
was compensated for by the devotion of another rich man, Louis Almeida,
who had come with Father Nunhes to Japan. Almeida being a physician,
immediately set to work to build two establishments--a hospital for
lepers and a refuge for abandoned children, which the immorality of the
Japanese women made extremely necessary. This was another expression of
gratitude to Civandono, which the king appreciated. By this time
Almeida had become a Jesuit.
Meantime the King of Hirando, who had asked for Nunhes, was propitiated
by having Father Gago sent to him. The missionary's success was
marvellous. Numberless conversions followed his visit, beginning with
that of the king himself. Helpers were sent, among them being the
illustrious bonze, Paul of Kioto, whose conversion had caused a great
stir some few years before. In a month or so 1400 baptisms were
recorded; but Paul had reached the end of his apostolic career and he
returned to die in the arms of Father Torres.
The usual uprising occurred, and the king who had made so much ado about
calling Father Nunhes turned out to be a very weak-kneed Christian.
Churches were destroyed, crosses desecrated, and other outrages
committed, but he did nothing to quell the disturbance. Political
reasons, he alleged, prevented him. It was in this outbreak that the
first martyrdom occurred, that of a poor slave-woman who had been
accustomed to pray before a cross erected outside the city. She had been
warned that it was as much as her life was worth to declare her
Christianity so openly; she persisted, nevertheless, and was killed as
she knelt down in the roadway to receive the blow of the executioner's
sword. Even Father Gago himself came near falling a victim to the
popular fury. In view of subsequent events, if they were as reported, it
is to be regretted that he missed the opportunity of winning the crown.
The first Jesuit who reached Kioto and remained there was Vilela. He had
travelled a long distance to visit a famous bonzery to which he had been
invited; and then, finding himself not far away from the imperial city,
he determined to present himself to the emperor, or Mikado as he was
called. His method of approaching that great potentate amazed the
onlookers by its novelty. Holding his cross high in the air, he
proclaimed his purpose in coming to Japan. To the surprise of every one,
the Mikado seemed extremely pleased; but that alarmed the bonzes, and
they accused Vilela of all sorts of crimes, not excluding cannibalism.
Indeed, they had seen great pieces of human flesh at Vilela's house,
they said. To stop their clamors, the Mikado finally consented to a
public debate, doing so with great apprehension, however, for Vilela's
success. The discussion took place, but, if the metempsychosis set forth
by their spokesman on that occasion, represented the popular creed, one
is forced to say that the Japanese mentality of that period was not of a
very superior character. Vilela's easy victory gave him the right to
preach everywhere in the Empire; and the number of converts was so great
that many missionaries were needed to help him.
Father Gago, who had missed the chance of martyrdom a short time before,
was looked upon as the man for the emergency. Francis Xavier had chosen
him expressly for Japan; his facility in learning the language was
marvellous; his piety was admitted by all; his zeal knew no bounds, and
his success corresponded with his efforts. Indeed, he was almost adored
wherever he went; but suddenly, just as he was needed he appeared to be
a changed man. His energy, his zeal, his enthusiasm had all evaporated.
There was, absolutely, nothing amiss in his conduct--not even a
suspicion suggested itself. But he wanted to give up his work; and to
the dismay of his associates he returned to Goa. He was nearly
shipwrecked on his way, but that resulted only in a temporary revival of
his fervor. He was sent to Salsette and was taken prisoner but was
subsequently released. He was never again, however, the man that he had
been in the beginning of his career. "I have enlarged on this," says
Charlevoix, "for I am writing a history and not a panegyric." The
"Menology" of Portugal, however, assails both Charlevoix and Bartoli for
this charge, but the defence lacks explicitness.
From Kioto, Vilela went to Sacai, which was an independent
city--republican in its administration, but in its rule as tyrannical as
Venice was about that time. Over and above that, it was grossly immoral,
and only one family in it would have anything to do with the missionary.
So he shook its dust from his feet and went elsewhere.
Almeida, the physician, distinguished himself in his missionary journeys
at this time, and he tells how he came across a whole community of
people in a secluded district who had seen a priest only once in
passing, yet had remembered all that had been told them, and were
keeping the commandments as well as they knew how. He baptized them all,
and leaving them capable catechists, one of whom had written a book
about Christianity, he continued on his way, hunting for more souls to
save. It was largely due to him that some of the reigning princes were
gained over. One of them, Sumitanda by name, had distinguished himself
by throwing down a famous idol, called the God of War, just at the
moment the army was going into battle. As the fight was won, most of the
soldiers not only became Christians, but, later on, when Sumitanda found
himself attacked by two kings who resented his conversion, a great
number of his men fastened crosses on their armor and swept the enemy
from the field.
Meantime a revolution had broken out at Kioto against the Mikado; he was
besieged in his citadel, but finally succeeded in beating back the foe.
When peace was restored in 1562 Vilela returned to the capital; and
multitudes, not only of the people, but many princes of the blood and
distinguished nobles, made a public profession of Christianity. This
again brought the bonzes to the fore, and as a prelude to a decree of
expulsion of the missionaries, they succeeded in having two of the most
influential men of the kingdom, both bitter pagans, constituted as a
commission to examine into the new teachings. So convinced was everyone
that it was only the beginning of a process of extermination that Vilela
was advised to withdraw from the capital. He acquiesced, much against
his will; but it happened that two of his Christians of the humbler
class so astounded the inquisitors by their answers that both of the
great men asked for baptism. A discourse of Vilela gained another
convert in the person of the father of a man who became famous in those
days of Japanese history--Justus Ucondono.
In 1565 the missionaries were treated with special consideration by the
Mikado, on the occasion of the splendid court ceremonies which marked
the opening of the new year. The whole nation was astounded at the
unprecedented favor, but as usual it was only the prelude of a storm. In
the following year the Mikado was murdered; and all his adherents were
either put to the sword or expelled from the capital. This was the first
act of a tragedy that would make a theme for a Shakespeare. It is as
follows: The successful rebels had placed the younger brother of the
emperor on the throne, but fearing a similar fate, he had fled to the
castle of the distinguished soldier, Vatadono, who, finding himself not
strong enough to maintain the claim of the fugitive monarch, induced the
ablest military man of Japan, Nobunaga, the King of Boari, to take up
the cause of their sovereign. The offer was accepted; two bloody battles
followed; the insurgents were cut to pieces, and the young emperor,
under the name of Cubosama, was enthroned at Kioto. The palace, which
had been wrecked in the war, was replaced by a new one, built of the
stones of the bonzeries and the statues of the national idols. The two
conquerors then made haste to show their esteem for the missionaries and
assured them of protection; Nobunaga withdrew to his kingdom when the
work was completed, and Vatadono, his lieutenant, remained as viceroy at
Kioto. All these events occurred in the single year of 1568.
Just then the illustrious Alexander Valignani, the greatest man of the
missions in the East after Francis Xavier, came on the scene. For
thirty-two years all his efforts were directed to shaping and guiding
the various posts of the vast field of apostolic work in this new part
of the world, his success being marvellous. He was born at Chieti. The
close friendship of his father with Pope Paul IV made the highest
offices of the Church attainable if he chose to aspire to them; but he
left the papal court, and was received into the Society by Francis
Borgia, beginning his life as a Jesuit by the practice of terrible
bodily mortifications, which he continued until the end of his career.
He was chosen by Mercurian to be visitor to the Indies; thirty-two
companions were given him, and he was authorized to select eight more,
wherever he might find them.
At that time Japan had only twenty missionaries, while there were none
at all in China. When Valignani died, there were in the empire of Japan
one hundred and fifty Jesuits and six hundred catechists, who in spite
of wars and persecutions had three hundred churches and thirty-one
places for the missionaries to assemble. There were a novitiate, a house
of theological and philosophical studies, two colleges where the
Japanese nobles sent their sons, besides a printing establishment, two
schools of music and painting, multitudes of sodalities, schools, and
finally, hospitals for every kind of human suffering, and when the
persecutions began, he had resources enough at his disposal to provide
for nine hundred exiled Japanese. Finally, it was his guidance and help
that enabled Matteo Ricci to plant the cross in the two capitals of
China. He wielded such an influence over the terrible Taicosama that it
was a common saying in the empire that if Father Alexander had survived,
the Church of Japan would never have succumbed. There was great
rejoicing when his arrival was announced. The ship which brought him to
port had not dropped anchor, before it was surrounded by hundreds of
boats filled with Christians, all of them carrying flags on which a
cross was painted. When he approached the city, throngs of people came
out to meet him, some kissing his robe, others his hands, others his
feet, and a long procession led him in triumph to the Church, where a Te
Deum was sung to thank God for his coming.
In that year, Nagasaki, which was afterwards to furnish so many martyrs
to the faith, suddenly developed from an inconspicuous village to a
great city, because of the number of Christians who had settled there. A
great sorrow, however, just then fell on the Church; Fernandes, one of
the missionaries whom Xavier had left behind him in Japan, had died.
Torres still remained, indeed, but he also was to end his glorious
career in a year or two. However, they had built up a splendid Church;
and under such conditions the work of evangelization could not fail to
proceed rapidly. Indeed, the records of that period teem with accounts
of conversions of princes and entire populations; and when Cabral
arrived as superior in place of Torres, the emperor gave the
missionaries his protection, in spite of the unrelenting opposition of
the bonzes, who still exercised a preponderating influence at Court. In
one of the provinces, Cabral, in his official visitations, found a very
remarkable evidence of solidity in the faith. No priest had been there
for ten years; yet a beautiful church had been erected and a fervent
congregation filled it continually. In another place where the constant
wars in which the ruler was engaged and the carnage which he had
committed in conquering the territory had kept out the missionaries for
at least twenty years, thanks to an old blind man named Tobias whom St.
Francis Xavier had baptized and named, all the people who were left in
the vicinity were thoroughly instructed in their Faith.
Meantime a new historical drama was being enacted, which was more
marvellous than the first. The weak character of Cubosama had made him
the victim of the bonzes, whom he heartily detested. They had also
succeeded in disrupting the friendship of Vatadono and Nobunaga.
Fortunately, the two friends were reconciled in time, but that gave rise
to a counter movement to destroy them. War was declared on some pretext
or other, and in one of the first engagements Vatadono was killed. It
was a sad blow for the missionaries, for the hero was a catechumen and
was waiting to be baptized. Left alone now and supposed to be unable to
defend himself, Nobunaga was more fiercely assailed than ever by the
bonzes. Wearied of it all, he called his troops together and set out for
Kioto. His enemies fled before him. He took the city and set it on fire,
and then, not because he was actuated by motives of personal ambition,
but because he saw that if Cubosama was allowed to rule the state of
warfare would continue, he locked up the feeble monarch in a fortress,
and constituted himself supreme military commander or Shogun. It was
then that Civandono, King of Bungo, the original friend of Francis
Xavier, became a Christian and took the name of Francis; furthermore he
built a city in which only Christians were allowed to live. There he
passed the rest of his days an example of piety to all.
Meantime, Nobunaga continued to shower favors on the missionaries. He
built a new and splendid city, and in the best part of it founded a
college and a seminary. Christianity made great strides under his
administration, as he was the deadly enemy of the bonzes who for years
had endeavored to compass his ruin. Nevertheless, though he listened
with interest and pleasure to explanations of the creed, and asked the
missionaries, half roguishly, if they really believed all they said, and
if they were not as bad as the bonzes, he went no further.
In the first years of Nobunaga's rule, Valignani conceived the idea of
having a solemn embassy sent by the various Christian kings of the
country, to pay their homage to the Sovereign Pontiff in the Eternal
City. It was not an imperial delegation, but was restricted to the three
devout rulers of Bungo, Arima and Omura. Nobunaga willingly gave his
consent, and the ambassadors left Nagasaki on February 22, 1582, and
repaired to Kioto. From there they went by the way of Malacca to Goa. On
this part of the journey they were frequently in imminent danger of
shipwreck, but they arrived safely in Goa at the beginning of 1583.
There they were received with great ceremony by the Viceroy,
Mascaregnas, who entertained them for several months. Valignani, who had
conducted them thus far, returned to Japan after putting them in the
hands of Fathers Mesquita and Rodrigues, who remained with them till
they reached Rome.
They set sail at the end of February, and on August 10 dropped anchor in
the Tagus. Charlevoix remarks that "this part of the journey was not
long," though it was nearly six months in duration. The prince cardinal
who was at that time Viceroy of Portugal showered honors upon them, and
made them his guests in the royal palace for an entire month. They then
visited the principal cities of Portugal. Nothing was too much for them
in the way of honor and even in the way of money. Finally they were
conducted to Madrid and had a public audience with Philip II, to whom
they presented their credentials and offered the presents of the
Christians of Japan and their expression of gratitude for all that his
majesty had done for the infant Church of their country. Philip is said
to have embraced them affectionately, assuring them of the great regard
he had for the kings whom they represented. The Queen Maria put her
carriages at their disposal, and on the following day they were
conducted to the Escorial where they received the congratulations of the
princes and grandees of Spain. The French ambassador also paid them a
ceremonious visit. Even the king himself called upon them and had a
vessel equipped at Alicante to conduct them to Italy. They left Madrid
on November 26, and were received with almost royal honors in every city
on their way. It was already January, 1585, when they left Spain. The
Mediterranean treated them badly; and it was only in the month of March
that they stepped ashore at Leghorn, amid the salvos of artillery from
the fort. The carriages of the grand duke carried them on their journey
to Pisa. There the prince and all his court were waiting to receive
them, and led them to the palace, where a splendid banquet was prepared,
after which Pietro de' Medici and the grand duke came to pay them their
respects.
They saw the carnival at Pisa, and then journeyed on to Florence, where
the papal nuncio and the cardinal archbishop, who was afterwards Pope
Leo XI, bade them welcome. From there they passed to Siena, where, as
guests of the Pope, they were met at the frontier by two hundred
arquebusiers sent by the vice-legate of Viterbo to show them special
honor. Gregory XIII was then on the Pontifical throne; and feeling that
his end was approaching, he sent a company of light horse to hasten
their coming. It was Friday, March 20, 1585, when they entered Rome, and
their first visit was to Father Aquaviva, who was then General of the
Society. He led them to the church, where a Te Deum was sung; and on the
following day the Pope held a consistory which ordered that the envoys
should be regarded as royal ambassadors; that their reception should be
as splendid as possible; and that their first audience should be at the
full consistory in the papal palace.
On the day appointed for the solemn entry, March 23, the Spanish
ambassador sent his carriages to convey the visitors to the villa of the
Pope; and then with the papal light horse at the head, followed by the
Swiss guards, the cardinalitial officials and the ambassadors of Spain
and Venice, with their pages and officers and trumpeters and all the
papal household in their purple robes, the delegates proceeded to the
City. The Japanese were on horseback and wore the costume of their
country; princes and archbishops rode on either side, and followed by
Father Diego, who acted as interpreter. A throng of mounted cavaliers in
gorgeous apparel closed the pageant. The whole city turned out to
receive them. The streets were crowded with people, as were the roofs of
the houses, all observing a reverential silence, interrupted only by the
blast of the trumpets or the occasional but enthusiastic acclamations of
the multitude. When the bridge of Castle Sant' Angelo was reached, the
cannon boomed out a welcome which was repeated by the guns of the papal
palace and taken up by strains of musical instruments that resounded
from every quarter as the envoys approached the palace.
So great was the throng of cardinals and prelates in the hall that the
Swiss guards had to force their way through it, to conduct the Pontiff
to his throne. When he was seated the ambassadors approached, holding
their credentials in their hands; and then, kneeling at the feet of the
Pope, they announced in a clear and loud voice that they had come from
the ends of the earth to see the Vicar of Jesus Christ and to offer him
the homage of the princes whose envoys they were. Tears flowed down the
cheeks of the Pontiff as he lifted the envoys up and embraced them
tenderly, again and again, with an affection they never forgot. They
were then conducted to a raised platform; and the secretary of the Pope
read aloud the letters, which they had brought. When that was concluded,
Father González explained at length the purpose of their mission, and a
bishop replied in the name of His Holiness. The second kissing of the
feet was next in order, and the cardinals crowded around the wondering
Japanese to ask them numberless questions about their country and the
events of their voyage, to all of which replies were given with a
refinement and courtesy that charmed all who heard them. The session was
now ended, and rising from his throne, the Pope withdrew, giving to the
visitors the honor, conferred only on the imperial ambassadors, of
bearing the papal train. They were then entertained at a sumptuous
banquet.
Private interviews with the Pope followed; and after receptions by
various dignitaries, at some of which the Japanese wore their national
dress, at others appearing in the Italian apparel, the Pope gave them
expensive robes, which they wore with an ease and grace that was
amazing for men so unaccustomed to such surroundings and ceremonies.
When they went to offer their prayers at the seven churches they were
received processionally at each of them, the bells ringing and organs
playing. Meantime physicians were sending hourly bulletins to His
Holiness, who was deeply concerned about one of the envoys who had been
debarred from all these ceremonies by an attack of sickness. The
invalid, however, did not die, but, later on, in his native country,
gave his life for the Faith.
Indeed it was the Pope himself who died a few days after these pageants.
He was ill only a few days, but in his very last moments he was making
inquiries about the sick man from the Far East. He departed this life on
April 10, and on the 25th Sixtus V mounted the throne. Before his
election he had been most effusive in his attention to the Japanese, and
was more so after his election, even giving them precedence over
cardinals, when there was question of an audience. They assisted at his
coronation, served as acolytes at his Mass, and were guests at a banquet
in his villa. He even decorated them as knights, and when they had been
belted and spurred by the ambassadors of France and Venice, he hung rich
gold chains and medals on their necks, lifted them up and kissed them
and gave them communion at his private Mass. He sent letters and
presents to the kings they represented, and the ambassadors themselves
were recipients of rich rewards from the generous Pontiff.
Finally, they were made patricians by the Senate, which assembled at the
Capitol for that purpose; and were given letters patent with a massive
gold seal attached. They then bade farewell to the Pope, who defrayed
all the expenses of their journey to Lisbon. Invitations were extended
to them from other sovereigns of Europe, but it was impossible to
accept them, and they left Rome on June 3, 1585, conducted a
considerable distance by the light horse and numbers of the nobility. At
Spoleto, Assisi, Montefalcono, Perugia, Bologna, Ferrara and elsewhere,
every honor was given them. As they approached Venice, for instance,
forty red-robed senators received them and accompanied them up the Grand
Canal in a vessel that was usually kept for the use of kings. Every
gondola of the city followed in their wake; the patriarch and all the
nobility visited them; and they were then conducted to the palace of the
Doge, where the attendant senators accorded them the first places in the
assembly. Tintoretto painted their portraits, and they were shown
tapestries on which their reception by the Pope had been already
represented. A hundred pieces of artillery welcomed them to Mantua; the
city was illuminated and the people knelt in the street to show their
veneration for these new children of the Faith from the Far East. They
even stood sponsors at the baptism of a Jewish rabbi. It was the same
story at Milan and Cremona. They approached Genoa by sea, and galleys
were sent out to convoy them to the city. Leaving there on August 8 they
reached Barcelona on the 17th. At Moncon they again saw Philip II who
had a vessel specially equipped for them at Lisbon; he lavished money
and presents on them, and gave orders to the Viceroy of India to provide
them with everything they wished till they reached Japan. They finally
left Lisbon on April 30, 1586. During their stay in Europe they had the
happiness of meeting St. Aloysius Gonzaga, who was then a novice in the
Society.
The splendor of these European courts must have dazzled the eyes of the
dark-skinned sons of the East as they journeyed through Portugal, Italy
and Spain; but they were probably not aware of the tragedies that were
enacted near-by in the dominions of the Most Christian King, where
Catholics and Huguenots were at each other's throats; nor did they know
of the fratricidal struggles in Germany that were leading up to the
Thirty Years War, which was to make Christian Europe a desert; nor of
the fury of Elizabeth who was at that very time putting to death the
brothers of the Jesuits whom they so deeply revered. The revolutions,
assassinations and sacrileges committed all through those countries
would have been startling revelations of the depths to which Christian
nations could descend. However, they may have been informed of it all,
and could thus understand more easily the remorseless cruelty of their
own pagan rulers whose victims they were so soon to be.
Cubosama, as we have seen, had been kind to the Christians, and Nobunaga
had welcomed the priests to his palace and found pleasure in their
conversations. He had given them a place in the beautiful city he built;
but in reality he doubted the sincerity of their belief just as he
disbelieved the teaching of the bonzes. In default of another deity, he
had begun to worship himself, and, like, Nabuchodonosor of old, he
finally exacted divine honors from his subjects. Such an attitude of
mind naturally led to cruelty, and in 1586 he was murdered by one of his
trusted officials who, in turn, perished in battle when Ucondono, the
Christian commander of the imperial armies, overthrew him. Unwisely,
perhaps, Ucondono did not assume the office of protector of the young
son of Nobunaga, but left it to a man of base extraction, the terrible
Taicosama, who quickly became the Shogun. At first he protected the
Christians, made the provincial, Coelho, his friend and permitted the
Faith to be preached throughout the empire. The chief officers of his
army and navy were avowed believers.
Three years passed and the number of neophytes had doubled. There were
now 300,000 Christians in Japan--among them kings and princes, and the
three principal ministers of the empire. But it happened that, in the
year 1589 two Christian women had refused to become inmates of
Taicosama's harem, and that turned him into a terrible persecutor.
Ucondono was deprived of his office and sent into exile; Father Coelho
was forbidden to preach in public, and the other Jesuits were to
withdraw from the country within twenty days, while every convert was
ordered to abjure Christianity. The two hundred and forty churches were
to be burned. The recreant son of the famous old king of Bungo gave the
first notable example of apostasy, but, as often happens in such
circumstances, the persecution itself won thousands of converts who, up
to that, had hesitated about renouncing their idols. At this juncture,
Father Valignani appeared as ambassador of the Viceroy of the Indies,
and in that capacity was received with royal magnificence by Taicosama.
But the bonzes, who had now regained their influence over the emperor,
assured him that the embassy was only a device to evade the law, and,
hence, though he accepted the presents, he did not relent in his
opposition; yet in his futile expedition against China two Jesuits
accompanied the troops.
Blood was first shed in the kingdom of Hirando. Fathers Carrioni and
Martel were poisoned, and Carvalho and Furnaletto, who took their
places, met the same fate. A fifth, whose name is lost, was killed in a
similar fashion. Unfortunately, the Spanish merchants in the Philippines
just at that time induced the Franciscan missionaries of those islands
to go over to Japan, for the rumor had got abroad that the Jesuits in
Japan had been wholly exterminated, although there were still, in
reality, twenty-six of them in the country. It is true they were not in
evidence as formerly, for with the exception of the two army chaplains,
they were exercising their ministry secretly. Of that, however, the
Spaniards were not aware and probably spoke in good faith. The
Franciscans, on arriving, discovered that they had been duped in
believing that the persecution was prompted by dislike of the Jesuits'
personality, some of whom no doubt they met. Nevertheless, they
determined to remain, and Taicosama permitted them to do so, because of
the letters they carried from the Governor of the Philippines, who
expressed a desire of becoming Taicosama's vassal. Meantime, a Spanish
captain whose vessel had been wrecked on the coast had foolishly said
that the sending of missionaries to Japan was only a device to prepare
for a Portuguese and Spanish invasion. Possibly he spoke in jest, but
his words were reported to Taicosama, with the result that on February
5, 1597, six Franciscans and three Jesuits were hanging on crosses at
Nagasaki. The Jesuits were Paul Miki, James Kisai, and John de Goto, all
three Japanese. On the same day a general decree of banishment was
issued.
Just then Valignani, who had withdrawn, returned to Japan with nine more
Jesuits and the coadjutor of the first bishop of Japan--the bishop
having died on the way out. Valignani, who was personally very
acceptable to Taicosama, was cordially received and the storm ceased
momentarily; but unfortunately, Taicosama died a year afterwards and,
strange to say, two Jesuit priests, Rodrigues and Organtini, who had won
his affection, were with him when he breathed his last, but they failed
to make any impression on his mind or heart. He left a son, and
Daifusama became regent or Shogun. Fortunately, Valignani had some
success in convincing him that to establish himself firmly on his
throne it would be wise to extend his protection to his Christian
subjects. Moreover, the King of Hirando, though at first bent on
continuing the persecution, was constrained by the threatening attitude
of his Christian subjects, who were very numerous and very powerful in
his kingdom, to desist from his purpose, at least for a while. Probably
he was assisted in this resolution by the fact that in the first year
after the outburst, namely in 1599, seventy thousand more Japanese had
asked for baptism. In 1603 there were 10,000 conversions in the single
principality of Fingo.
Father Organtini succeeded in getting quite close to Daifusama who, to
strengthen himself politically, allowed the churches to be rebuilt in
the empire and even in Kioto. Unfortunately, however, in 1605 he heard
that Spain was sending out a number of war vessels to subjugate the
Moluccas, and fancying that its objective was really Japan, he gave
orders to the Governor of Nagasaki to allow no Spanish ships to enter
the harbor. To make matters worse, it happened that Valignani, who
exercised an extraordinary influence on Daifusama, was not at hand to
disabuse him of his error. He was then dying, and expired the next year
at the age of sixty-nine. For the moment Daifusama was so much affected
by the loss of his friend that he forgot his suspicions and gave full
liberty to the missionaries to exercise their ministry everywhere. In
fact, he summoned to his palace the famous Charles Spinola, who appears
now for the first time in the country for which he was soon to shed his
blood. With Spinola was Sequiera, the first bishop who had succeeded in
reaching Japan. The imperial summons was eagerly obeyed by Spinola and
the bishop, for such progress had already been made in the formation of
a native clergy that five parishes which they had established in
Nagasaki were at that time in the hands of Japanese priests, and an
academy had been begun in which, besides theology, elementary physics
and astronomy were taught. Organtini, who had labored in Japan for
forty-nine years, had even built a foundling asylum, to continue the
work which Almeida had inaugurated elsewhere. A hospital for lepers had
also been started.
Nothing happened for the moment, but though outwardly favoring the
missionaries, Daifusama was in his heart worried about this amazingly
rapid expansion of Christianity, and when in 1612 two merchants, one
from Holland and one from England, which were plotting to oust the
Spanish and Portuguese from the control of the commerce of Japan,
aroused his old suspicions by assuring him that the priests were in
reality only the forerunners of invading armies, the old hostility
flamed out anew. The opportunity to work on Daifusama's fears presented
itself in a curious way. A Spanish ship had been sent from Mexico by the
viceroy to see what could be done to establish trade relations with
Japan, and on coming into port it was seen to be taking the usual
soundings--a mysterious proceeding in the eyes of the Japanese. The fact
was reported to Daifusama, who asked an English sea-captain what it
meant. "Why," was the reply, "in Europe that is considered a hostile
act. The captain is charting the harbor so as to allow a fleet to enter
and invade Japan. These Jesuits are well known to be Spanish priests who
have been hunted out of every nation in Europe as plotters and spies,
and the religion they teach is only a cloak to conceal their ulterior
designs."
Whether Daifusama believed this or not is hard to say, but greater men
than this rude barbarian have been deceived by more ridiculous
falsehoods. There was no delay. Fourteen of the most distinguished
families of the empire were banished, and others awaited a like
proscription. Then the persecution became general; the churches were
destroyed and all the missionaries were ordered out of the empire.
Daifusama died in 1616, but his son and successor outdid him in ferocity
though there was a short lull on account of internal political troubles.
It was during this period that thirty-three Jesuits slipped back into
the country under various disguises. Their purpose was to work secretly,
so that the government would not remark their presence. Unfortunately,
twenty-four Franciscans, deceived by a rumor that a commercial treaty
had been made with Spain and under the impression that the root of the
trouble was personal dislike for Jesuits, landed at Nagasaki at the end
of the year 1616, and insisted on going out in the open and proclaiming
the Gospel publicly. They reckoned without their host. A decree was
issued making it a capital offense to harbor missionaries of any garb.
Not only that, but it was officially announced that death would be
inflicted on the occupants of the ten houses nearest the one where a
missionary was discovered. The Jesuits took to the mountains and marshes
to save their people, but the Franciscans defied the edict. The result
was that immediate orders were issued to take every priest that could be
found. Nagasaki was first ransacked. The Jesuits had all vanished except
Machado; he and a Franciscan were captured, and on May 21, 1617, were
decapitated. In spite of this warning, however, a Dominican and an
Augustinian publicly celebrated Mass, under the very eyes of Sancho, an
apostate prince who was an agent of the Shogun. The result was immediate
death for both. The same useless bravado was repeated elsewhere.
Different tactics, as we have said, were adopted by the Jesuits. Thus,
de Angelis covered the mountains of Voxuan; Navarro and Porro lived in a
cave in Bungo, and crept out when they could, to visit their scattered
flocks. There was a group also on the rich island of Nippon--among them
Torres, Barretto, Fernandes and a Japanese named Yukui. From this place
of concealment they spread out in all directions, usually disguised as
native peddlers; all of them, even in those terrible surroundings,
winning many converts to the Faith.
A phenomenon not unusual in the Church, but carried to extraordinary
lengths in this instance, now presented itself. Instead of striking
terror into the hearts of the Christians, the very opposite result
ensued. A widespread eagerness, a special devotion for martyrdom, as it
were, manifested itself. Crowds gathered in every city to accompany the
victims to the place of execution; the women and children put on their
richest attire; songs of joy were sung and prayers aflame with
enthusiasm were recited by the spectators, who kept reminding the
sufferers that the scaffold was the stairway to heaven. At Kioto there
was no trouble in filling out the lists of those who were to be
executed. People came of themselves to give their names. Those who did
not were rated as idolaters. The number ran up to several thousands and
the emperor was so alarmed that he cut them down to 1700. There were
fifteen Jesuits in the city. Six of them were banished, but the other
nine went from place to place, keeping up the courage of their flocks.
Gomes and the bishop had died in the midst of these horrors; and the
duties of both devolved on Carvalho.
Unfortunately, at this juncture, a paper was found signed in blood by a
number of Christians pledging themselves to fight to death against the
banishment of the missionaries. That was enough for the Shogun. The
Jesuits, to the number of one hundred and seventeen, with twenty-seven
members of other religious orders, Augustinians, Franciscans and
Dominicans, were dragged down to Nagasaki and shipped to Macao and the
Philippines. With them was Ucondono, the erstwhile commander of the
forces of Taicosama. On the vessels also were several families of
distinguished people. Some died on the journey; and others, Ucondono
among the number, gave up the ghost shortly after arriving at the
Philippines. Twenty-six Jesuits and some other religious succeeded in
remaining in Japan. As the provincial Carvalho, was among the exiles, he
named Rodrigues as his successor, and appointed Charles Spinola to look
after Nagasaki and the surrounding territory. The work had now become
particularly difficult. Thus, one of these concealed apostles tells how
most of his labor had to be performed at night. Often he found himself
groping along unknown roads through forests and on the edges of
precipices, over which he not infrequently rolled to the bottom of the
abyss. Another says: "I am hiding in a hut, and a little rice is handed
in to me from time to time. The place is so wet that I have got
sciatica, and cannot stand or sit; most of my work is done at night,
visiting my flock, while my protectors are asleep." So it was for all
the rest.
The Protestant historian Kampfer is often quoted in this matter. In his
"History of Japan" he says that "the persecution was the worst in all
history, but did not produce the effect that the government expected.
For, although, according to the Jesuit accounts, 20,570 people suffered
death for the Christian religion in 1590, yet in the following years,
when all the churches were closed, there were 12,000 proselytes.
Japanese writers do not deny that Hideyori, Taicosama's son and
intended successor, was suspected of being a Catholic, and that the
greater part of the court officials and officers of the army professed
that religion. The joy that made the new converts suffer the most
unimaginable tortures excited the public curiosity to such an extent
that many wanted to know the religion that produced such happiness in
the agonies of death; and when told about it, they also enthusiastically
professed it."
Spinola, who was seized at Nagasaki, was called upon to explain why he
had remained in Japan, in spite of the edict. He replied: "There is a
Ruler above all kings--and His word must be obeyed." The answer settled
his fate, and he and two Dominicans were condemned to a frightful
imprisonment. It is recorded that as the three victims approached the
jail, they intoned the Te Deum, and that the refrain was taken up by a
Dominican and a Franciscan who had already passed a year in that
horrible dungeon. When the martyrs met inside the walls they kissed each
other affectionately and fell on their knees to thank God. Leonard
Kimura, a Japanese, was arrested at Nagasaki on suspicion of having
concealed the son of the Shogun, and also of having killed a man while
defending the prince. He was acquitted, but when withdrawing he was
asked if he could give the court information about any Jesuit who might
be hiding in the vicinity. "Yes, I know one," he said, "I am a Jesuit."
After three years in a dungeon he was burned at the stake.
In 1619 the Jesuits, Spinola and Fernandes, with fourteen others,
Dominicans and Franciscans, were brought out of prison and kept in a pen
with no protection from cold or heat and so narrow that it was
impossible to assume any but a crouching posture. It was hoped that by
exposing them publicly, emaciated, hungry, filthy, and diseased, that
the heroic element which the executions seemed to develop in the
victims would be eliminated, and their converts alienated from the
Faith. The contrary happened, and from that enclosure Spinola not only
preached to the people, but actually admitted novices to the Society. As
he stood at the stake where he was to be burned, a little boy whom he
had baptized was put in his arms; Spinola blessed him, and the child and
his mother were executed at the same time as their father in God. Five
Jesuits died in 1619; and in 1620 six others came from Macao to replace
them. Next year brought down an edict on all shipmasters, forbidding
them to land such undesirable immigrants as missionaries. Nevertheless,
two months after the edict was published, Borges, Costanza, de Suza,
Carvalho and Tzugi, a Japanese, appeared in the disguise of merchants
and soldiers. The Dutch and English traders volunteered after that to
search all incoming vessels, and report the suspicious passengers. An
attempt at a prison delivery precipitated the condemnation of Spinola
and his companions in the pens. They were burned alive on September 10,
1622; on the 19th of the same month three more met the same fate, and in
November two others went to heaven through the flames.
In 1623 de Angelis and Simon Jempo, with a number of their followers,
were burned to death, after having their feet cut off. Carvalho and
Buzomo were caught in a forest in mid-winter, and on February 21, 1624,
were plunged naked into a pond, and left there to freeze for the space
of three hours. Four days afterwards the experiment was repeated for six
consecutive hours. But the night was so cold that they were both found
dead in the morning, wrapped in a shroud of ice. Another Carvalho
perished in the same year. Petitions were sent from the Philippines and
elsewhere, imploring a cessation of these horrors, but the appeals made
the Shogun more cruel. As the persecutions had produced only a few
apostacies, the executioners were told to scourge the victims down to
the bone, to tear out their nails, to drive rods into their flesh or
ears or nose, to fling them into pits filled with venomous snakes, to
cut them up piece by piece, to roast them on gridirons, to put red-hot
vessels in their hands, and, what was the most diabolical of all, to
consider the slightest movement or cry a sign of apostasy. Another
favorite punishment was to hang the sufferer head down over a pit from
which sulphurous or other fumes were rising, or to stretch them on their
backs and by means of a funnel fill them full of water till the stomach
almost burst, and then by jumping on the body to force the fluid out
again.
It is unnecessary here to enter into all the details of these
martyrdoms; but it will be enough to state that in a very few years,
twenty-eight native Japanese Jesuits, besides multitudes of people who
were living in the world, men, women and children, gave up their lives
for the Faith, side by side with those who had come from other parts of
the world to teach them how to die. In 1634 only a handful of Jesuits
remained. Chief among them was Vieira. He had been sent to report
conditions to Urban VIII, and in 1632 he returned to die. He re-entered
Japan as a Chinese sailor, and for nearly two years hurried all over the
blood-stained territory, facing death at every step, until finally he
and five other Jesuits stood before the tribunal and were told to
apostatize or die. Vieira, the spokesman, said: "I am 63 years old, and
all my life I have received innumerable favors from Almighty God; from
the emperor--nothing, and I am not going now to bow down to idols of
sticks and stones to obey a mortal man like myself. So say the others."
They were put to death.
In that year, however, it is painful and humiliating to be obliged to
say there was a Jesuit in Japan who apostatized: Father Ferara. It was
the only scandal during those terrible trials. He had even been
provincial, at one time, but when the test came, he fell, and the
glorious young Church was thrilled with horror at seeing a man who had
once taught them the way to heaven now throwing away his soul. The shame
was too much for the Society, and it resolved to wipe it out. Marcellus
Mastrilli, a Neapolitan, made the first attempt to atone for the crime.
No one could enter Nagasaki without trampling on the cross--a device
suggested by the Dutch and English merchants. However, Mastrilli made up
his mind to enter without committing the sacrilege. He succeeded, but
was arrested and led through the streets of Nagasaki, with the
proclamation on his back: "This madman has come to preach a foreign
religion, in spite of the emperor's edict. Come and look at him. He is
to die in the pit." For sixty hours he hung over the horrible opening
through which the poisonous fumes continually poured. Finally he was
drawn up and his head struck off. It was October 17, 1637, and Ferara
was looking on. Three years afterwards a similar execution took place.
There were four victims this time, and the apostate stood there again.
In 1643 the final attempt was made to win back the lost one. Father
Rubini and four other Jesuits landed on a desolate coast. They were
captured and dragged to Nagasaki. To their horror the judge seated at
the tribunal was none other than Ferara. "Who are you, and what do you
come here for?" he asked. "We are Jesuits," they answered, "and we come
to preach Jesus Christ, who died for us all." "Abjure your faith," cried
Ferara, "and you shall be rich and honored." "Tell that to cowards whom
you want to dishonor," answered Rubini. "We trust that we shall have
courage to die like Christians and like priests." Ferara fled, and the
missionaries died, but the shaft had struck home, though it took nine
years for Divine grace to achieve its ultimate triumph. The victory was
won in 1652, when an old man of eighty was dragged before the judge at
Nagasaki. "Who are you?" he was asked. "I am one," he replied, "who has
sinned against the King of Heaven and earth. I betrayed Him out of fear
of death. I am a Christian; I am a Jesuit." His youthful courage had
returned, and for sixty hours he remained unmoved in the pit, in spite
of the most excruciating torture. It was Ferara; and thus Christianity
died in Japan in his blood and in that of 200,000 other martyrs. Eighty
Jesuits had given their life for Christ in this battle.
This disaster in Japan has been frequently laid at the door of the
Society, because of its unwillingness to form a native clergy. Those who
make the cruel charge forget a very important fact. It is this:
precisely at that time a native clergy was not saving England or Germany
or any of the Northern nations. Not only that, but the clergy themselves
first gave the example of apostasy in those countries. Secondly, it had
been absolutely impossible, up to that time, to obtain a bishop in Japan
to ordain any of the natives. Sixteen years had not elapsed from the
moment the first Jesuits began their work in Japan, namely in 1566, when
Father Oviedo, the Patriarch of Ethiopia, was appointed Bishop of Japan.
But he entreated the Pope to let him die in the hardships and dangers by
which he was surrounded in Africa. Father Carnero was then sent in his
place, but he died when he reached Macao. In 1579 a petition was again
dispatched to Rome asking for a bishop, but no answer was given. When
the Japanese embassy knelt at the feet of the Pope, they repeated the
request. Morales was then named, but he died on the way out. In 1596
Martines arrived with a coadjutor, Sequiera, and immediately a number of
young Japanese who had been long in preparation for the priesthood were
ordained; in 1605 a parish was established in Nagasaki and put in the
hands of a native priest. In 1607 four more parishes were organized.
Then Martines died, and in 1614 Sequiera followed him to the grave.
Finally, Valente was appointed, but he never reached Japan.
Rohrbacher, the historian, was especially prominent in fastening this
calumny on the Society, and when Bertrand, the author of "Mémoires sur
les missions," put him in possession of these facts, not only was the
charge not withdrawn, but no acknowledgment was made of the receipt of
the information. As a matter of fact, it would be difficult to find in
the history of the Church an example of greater solicitude to provide a
native priesthood than was given by the Jesuits of Japan. The crushing
out in blood of the marvellous Church which Xavier and his successors
had created in that part of the world cannot be considered a failure--at
least in the minds of Catholics who understand that "the blood of
martyrs is the seed of the Church." Nor can such a conclusion be arrived
at by any one who is aware of what occurred in the city of Nagasaki as
late as the year 1865.
The ports of Japan had been opened to the commerce of the world in 1859.
But even then all attempts to penetrate into the interior had been
hopelessly frustrated. On March 17, 1865 Father Petitjean, of the
Foreign Missions, was praying, disconsolate and despondent, in a little
chapel he had built in Nagasaki. No native had ever entered it. One
morning he became aware of the presence of three women kneeling at his
side. "Have you a Pope?" they asked. "Yes," was the answer. "Do you
pray to the Blessed Virgin?" "Yes." "Are you married?" "No." "Do you
take the discipline?" To the last interrogatory he replied by holding up
that instrument of penance. "Then you are a Christian like ourselves."
To his amazement he found that in Nagasaki and its immediate
surroundings, which had been the principal theatre of the terrible
martyrdoms of former times--there were no less than 2,500 native
Japanese Catholics. In a second place there was a settlement of at least
a thousand families, and, later on, five other groups were found in
various sections of the country; and it was certain that there was a
great number of others in various localities. As many as 50,000
Christians were ultimately discovered. Pius IX was so much moved by this
wonderful event, that he made the 17th of March the great religious
festival of the Church of Japan, and decreed that it was to be
celebrated under the title of "The Finding of the Christians."
A Church that could preserve its spiritual life for over two hundred
years in the midst of pagan hatred and pagan corruption, without any
sacramental help but that of baptism, and without priests, without
preaching, without the Holy Sacrifice, and could present itself to the
world at the end of that long period of trial and privation with 50,000
Christians, the remnants of those other hundreds and hundreds of
thousands who, through the centuries, had never faltered in their
allegiance to Christ, was not a failure. It may be noted, moreover, that
this survival of the Faith after long years of privation of the
sacraments of the Church is not the exclusive glory of Japan. Other
instances will be noted when the Society resumed its work after the
Suppression.