THE ASIATIC CONTINENT
The Great Mogul--Rudolph Aquaviva--Jerome Xavier--de Nobili--de
Britto--Beschi--The Pariahs--Entering Thibet--From Peking to
Europe--Mingrelia, Paphlagonia and Chaldea--The Maronites--
Alexander de Rhodes--Ricci enters China--From Agra to Peking--
Adam Schall--Arrival of the Tatars--Persecutions--Schall
condemned to Death--Verbiest--de Tournon's Visit--The French
Royal Mathematicians--Avril's Journey.
At the very time that Queen Elizabeth was putting Jesuits to death in
England, there was a remarkable pagan monarch reigning in what is now
part of English India, who was inviting Jesuits to his court and making
them his friends. His name was Akbar, and he is known in history as the
Great Mogul. He was born in 1542, and ruled four years longer than the
forceful Eliza. She was queen from 1558 to 1603; he was king from 1556
to 1605. Akbar appears first as the ruler of the Punjab and the country
around Delhi and Agra; but in 1572 he drove the Afghans out of Bengal,
and reunited the lower valley of the Ganges to Hindostan. Later, he
annexed Cabul, Kashmir, Sind and Kandahar. He was a mighty warrior, but
remarkable likewise as a civil ruler, the proof in this case being that
he levied more money in taxes than England extracts at the present day
from the same territory. He was very much interested in religious
matters, and Christianity appealed to him, because one of his numerous
wives had been a Christian; but he fancied that it was part of a general
system which could be incorporated in a new cult which he had devised to
conciliate the conflicting creeds of his realm. His own personal
devotion was sun-worship, and he appeared every morning in public,
devoutly offering up his orisons to the god of day. He fancied it was
the world-soul that animates all things, a concrete form of one of the
illusions of the present time.
At the invitation of Akbar, Rudolph Aquaviva, accompanied by Anthony
Montserrat and Francisco Henriques, left Goa in 1579, to present himself
at his court for the purpose of explaining to him the doctrines of the
Christian Faith. He listened with pleasure and intelligence, but his
interest was purely academic. As with other Oriental despots, nothing
practical could be hoped for, on account of the harem. Seeing that it
was lost time to remain there, Aquaviva returned to Goa, and was then
sent down to the peninsula of Salsette, as superior of the mission
established at that place. His stay there was not a long one, for on
July 15, 1583, he and Alfonso Pacheco were attacked by the natives and
cut to pieces. Fathers Pietro Berno, Antonio Francisco and Francisco
Aranha, a lay-brother, together with twenty of their neophytes were
included in the massacre.
Hearing of the tragedy, the Great Mogul despatched an embassy to the
viceroy and to the superior of the Jesuits to express his sympathy, and
also to urge that other missionaries might be sent to instruct his
people. In compliance with the request, Jerónimo Xavier, a nephew of St.
Francis Xavier, was sent there in 1595 and succeeded in winning the
favor of Akbar. The "Encyclopedia Britannica" informs us that Jerónimo,
at the suggestion of the monarch, translated the four Gospels into
Persian. Ranke adds in his "History of the Popes" that "while the Jesuit
was there the insurrections of the Mahometans contributed to dispose the
emperor towards the Christians, for in the year 1599 Christmas was
celebrated at Lahore with the utmost solemnity. The manger and the
leading facts of the Nativity were represented for twenty days
consecutively, and numerous catechumens proceeded to the Church with
palms in their hands to receive baptism. The emperor read, with great
pleasure, a 'Life of Christ' composed in Persian, and a picture of the
Virgin, copied from the Madonna del Popolo in Rome, was by his orders
taken to the palace that he might show it to the women of his household.
It is true that the Christians drew more favourable conclusions from
these things than the facts justified; still, great progress was really
made. Indeed, after the death of Akbar, three princes of the blood royal
were solemnly baptized. They rode to the church on white elephants, and
were received with the sound of trumpets, kettle-drums and martial
music. This took place in 1610, so that Christianity seemed gradually to
acquire a position of a fixed character, although suffering from certain
vicissitudes and the prevalence of fickleness in the matter of religious
opinion. Political considerations, also, largely affected the public
mind. In 1621 a college was founded in Agra, and a station established
at Patna. In 1624 hopes were entertained that the Emperor Jehanguire
would himself become a Christian."
Shortly after Jerónimo Xavier had settled down in the court of the Great
Mogul, Father Robert de Nobili, a nephew of Cardinal Bellarmine, broke
through the caste barrier in India in a way that, for a time, gave
considerable scandal. He had gone to the mission of Madura, a territory
somewhat in the interior towards the northeast of the Fisheries, and
found there that Father Fernandes, a very pious and energetic missioner
who had been living for fourteen years among his pagans, had never made
a convert, as he could not get in touch with the influential people of
the country. Two difficulties stood in the way: first, he was a
Portuguese or a Prangui, and the Prangui were held in abhorrence,
because they ate meat and drank wine; secondly, he mingled with the most
degraded castes of India.
De Nobili determined to get rid of these obstacles. First, he insisted,
that he was not a Prangui but a Roman nobleman in name and in fact;
secondly, with regard to wine and meat, he would abstain from them and
live on rice; thirdly, he would become a Brahmin, as far as their manner
of life and dress was concerned, and, moreover, he would outdo them in
the knowledge of their own language, literature and religion. Indeed,
within a year, he was master of Tamil, Telugu and Sanskrit. He was now
equipped for his work, and in 1606 he bade good-bye to Fernandes, and
shut himself up in a hut which, for a long time, no one was allowed to
enter. He wanted the news to spread among the natives that a great
European Brahmin had made his appearance. Curiosity, he said, would do
the rest, for his rigid seclusion would make them all the more intent on
seeing him. The scheme succeeded, and when, at last, visitors were
admitted to speak to him, they found him to be even holier in appearance
than they had imagined him to be, and were amazed to hear him converse
in Tamil, and show a perfect acquaintance with the literature of the
language. He made it a point, also, to recite and even to sing the songs
of their poets, for he was an able musician and had a good voice.
When his reputation was established he began to discuss some of the
truths of fundamental theology, not as coming from himself, but which,
as he showed them, were actually set down in their own Vedas. His
knowledge of Sanskrit--perhaps he was the first European to venture into
that field--had given him a more thorough knowledge of the sacred books
than was possessed by any of the Brahmins themselves, and hence it
happened that, before a year had passed, he had baptized several persons
who were conspicuous both for their nobility and learning. He permitted
his converts to continue to besmear their foreheads with sandal-wood
paste, to cultivate the tuft of hair on the top of their heads, and to
wear a string on the left shoulder. He did this after he had thoroughly
convinced himself that there was no superstition in such practices.
Meantime he was living on milk, rice, herbs and water, which were handed
to him once a day by the servant of a Brahmin. It was a precaution to
forestall any suspicion that other food was supplied surreptitiously.
In the second year, his flock was so numerous that the hut he lived in
was insufficient to contain them all, and he had to build a church.
That, of course, caused some alarm among the Brahmins, but it was
nothing in comparison to the storm that de Nobili's life excited in
Europe. Cardinal Bellarmine, his uncle, thought he had apostatized, and
wrote him an indignant letter, and the General of the Society added to
it a very severe reprehension. His brother Jesuit, Fernandes, had
denounced him as a traitor, because of his rejection of the name
"Prangui," or Portuguese, and also of his connivance at idolatry in
allowing his neophytes to retain their heathenish customs. This was the
origin of the famous question of the "Malabar Rites" which created such
a stir in the Church, one hundred years later. These charges gave de
Nobili a great deal of trouble for some time, but at last everything was
satisfactorily explained, and the cardinal, the General and the Pope
told the innovating missionary to continue as he had begun. Hence in
order to obviate the apparent neglect and even contempt of the lower
castes, other priests were assigned to that work, and de Nobili
restricted himself to his peculiar vocation for forty-two years. He then
lost his sight and was sent to Jafanapatam in Ceylon, and afterwards to
Mylapore, where he died on January 16, 1656.
The mission had prospered. About the time de Nobili ended his labours,
it had an average of 5000 converts a year, and it never dropped below
3000, even in the times of persecution. At the end of the seventeenth
century its territory had extended beyond Madura to Mysore, Marava,
Tanjore and Gingi, and the Christians of the entire Madura Mission, as
it was called, amounted to 150,000 souls. Besides being a field for
apostolic zeal, the mission also produced eminent scholars in Tamil and
Sanskrit, like Beschi, Coeurdoux, and others. In 1700 it reached into
the Carnatic and probably took in what Christians had been left there by
the missionaries among the Moguls. This mission glories in its great
martyr, John de Britto, who arrived there twelve years after the death
of de Nobili. He, too, adopted the manners of a Saniassi, and labored as
such for twenty-one years. It was a life of continual and horrible
martyrdom. He was finally put to death as a magician, because of the
multitudes of people attracted to the Faith by his holiness and
teaching. Like his predecessor de Nobili, he did not worry his converts
about their tufts of hair or the cotton cords on their shoulders, and it
is noteworthy that long after his death, and just while the process of
his beatification was going on, the theologians were hotly discussing
the liceity of the Malabar Rites. If they were condemned, how would the
decision affect de Britto's canonization? Pope Benedict XIV decided that
it would not stand in the way, and so de Britto was placed among the
Blessed.
The companions of de Nobili and de Britto went everywhere in Hindostan,
they even reconciled to the Church the community of natives who called
themselves the Christians of St. Thomas the Apostle, but who were in
reality commonplace Nestorians. They built the first Church of Bengal,
and penetrated into the kingdoms of Arracan, Pegu, Cambogia, and Siam,
all the time busy avoiding the Dutch pirates who were prowling along the
coast.
The most dazzling of these picturesque missionaries was undoubtedly the
Italian, Constant Beschi, who arrived in Madura in 1700, one hundred
years after de Nobili, and twenty-eight after de Britto. He determined
to surpass all the other Saniassis or Brahmins in the austerity of his
life. He remained in his house most of the time, and would never touch
anything that had life in it. On his forehead was the pottu of Sandanam,
and on his head the coulla, a sort of cylindrical head dress made of
velvet. He was girt with the somen, was shod with the ceremonious wooden
footgear, and pearls hung from his ears. He never went out except in a
palanquin, in which tiger skins had to be placed for him to sit on,
while a servant stood on either side, fanning him with peacock feathers,
and a third held above his head a silken parasol surmounted by a globe
of gold. He was called "the Great Viramamvuni", and like Bonaparte, he
sat "wrapped in the solitude of his own originality." Not even a Jesuit
could come near him or speak to him. A word of Italian never crossed his
lips, but he plunged into Sanskrit, Telugu, and Tamil, studied the poets
of Hindostan, and wrote poems that conveyed to the Hindoos a knowledge
of Christianity. For forty years he was publicly honored as the Ismat
Saniassi, that is, the penitent without stain. The Nabob of Trichinopoli
was so enthusiastic about him that Beschi had to accept the post of
prime minister, and thenceforth he never went abroad unless accompanied
by thirty horsemen, twelve banner-bearers, and a band of military music,
while a long train of camels followed in the rear. If, on his way, any
Jesuit who was looking after the Pariahs came across his path, there was
no recognition on either side, but both must have been amused as the
Jesuit in rags prostrated himself in the dust before the silk-robed
Jesuit in the cavalcade, the outcast not daring even to look at the
great official, though, perhaps, they were intimate friends.
Numbers of Jesuits were, meantime, besieging the General with petitions
to be made missionaries among the Pariahs, for few could act the part
that Beschi was playing. To be a Pariah was easy, and attempts to
evangelize that class continued to be made in Madura up to the time of
the Suppression. Conversions were numerous, and Bouchet, a contemporary
of Beschi, heard as many as 100,000 confessions in a single year. It is
said that the particularly fervent converts among the Brahmins used to
cut off their hair as a sacrifice, when they were baptized, and a great
number of locks, some of which were four and five feet long, adorned
Beschi's church in Tiroucavalor.
But these conversions connoted persecution. Bouchet, who was Beschi's
successor among the high-class Brahmins, was several times arrested and
condemned to death. On one occasion, when he was sentenced to be burned
alive and was being covered with oil to make the flames more active, the
executioners were so startled by his apparent unconcern that they
dropped the work and set him free. Bouchet thought that the Church of
Madura was specially blessed by being persecuted, and that explained for
him how he was able to baptize 20,000 Hindoos. He had the care of thirty
churches, which meant untold labor. About the trifles of never eating
meat, fresh eggs or fish, living in straw-covered cabins without beds,
seats or furniture, and never having the luxury of a table or spoon or
knife or fork at meal times,--that never gave the missionaries a
thought. The consolation for these privations was that at times they
would hear the confessions of entire villages and never have to deal
with a mortal sin. Probably Simon Carvalho,--Marshall calls him
Laynez--who had received 10,000 people into the Church, and was at one
time almost torn to pieces by a mob, and at another hunted for five
months to be put to death, would have preferred this work, in which he
had been employed for thirty years, to that of administering the diocese
of Mylapore, of which Clement XI made him bishop later.
"They were giants," wrote the Abbé Dubois who was a missionary in India
in modern times, "and they triumphed in their day, because neither the
world nor the devil could resist the might that was in them. Possessing
for the most part the rarest mental endowments, so that if they had
aimed only at human honors they would have encountered scarcely a rival
in their path, versed in all the learning of their age, and conspicuous
even in that great Society, which attracted to itself for more than a
century the noblest minds of every country in Europe, they had acquired
in addition to their natural gifts such a measure of Divine grace and
wisdom, such perfection of evangelical virtue, that the powers of
darkness fled away from before their face, and the Cross of Christ
wherever they lifted it up, broke in pieces the idols of the Gentiles."
And Perrin in his "Voyage dans l'Indoustan," II, 166, writes: "I confess
that I have criticized the Jesuits of Hindostan with critical, perhaps
with malignant temper. I have changed my mind now, and if I spoke ill of
them, all India would tax me with imposture."
The hermit kingdom of Thibet was first entered by Father Antonio de
Andrada. He was one of the missionaries in the kingdom of the Great
Mogul, and started from Agra in 1624 to cross the Himalayas and enter,
if possible, the Grand Lama's mysterious domain. He joined a troop of
idolaters who were going to present their offerings at the celebrated
pagoda of Barrinath, whither thousands flocked from all the kingdoms of
India and even from the island of Ceylon. "That part of the trip," he
says in his narrative, "was the easiest, although in ascending the
valley of the Ganges I had often to creep along a narrow path cut in the
face of the rock, sometimes scarcely a palm in breadth, while far below
me were roaring torrents into which, from time to time, some unfortunate
traveller would be hurled. Here and there we had to pass rivers with the
help of ropes strung across the stream, or perhaps on heaps of snow
which the avalanches had piled up in the valley, but which were
especially perilous, for the mountain torrents were all the while eating
through them at the base. If there was a cave-in the whole party would
disappear in the depths. It was dreadful work, but when I saw my
companions, many of them old men, keeping up their courage by repeating
the name of Barrinath, I was ashamed not to do more for Jesus Christ
than these poor pagans for their idols and pagodas."
After the shrine was reached, the valiant missionary continued his
journey, and arrived at the town of Manah, the last habitation of the
mountaineers on the India slope. "Before us was a desert of snow,
inaccessible for any living creature for ten months of the year, and
which called for a twenty days' march, without shelter and without a bit
of wood to make a fire. With me were two natives and a guide. However, I
had put my trust in God, for whom alone I was attempting this dangerous
task. Each step costs incredible struggles, for every morning there was
a new layer of snow, knee-deep or up to the waist or even to the
shoulders. In some places, to get across the drifts, we had to go
through the motions of a swimmer; and to avoid being smothered at night,
we were compelled to remove the snow, at least every hour." He finally
arrived at his destination and was well received by the Lama. He was
given leave to establish a mission in the country, he then made haste to
return to Agra and in the following year he established a base at
Chaparang. But he himself was not to remain in the country which he had
so gloriously opened to the world. He was named provincial of the
Indies, and had to set out for Goa immediately. Nine years later, on
March 19, 1634, he was poisoned by the Jews. Meantime the Thibet mission
tottered and fell.
In 1661 Father Johann Gruber, one of Schall's assistants in Pekin,
reached Thibet on his way to Europe. He could not go by sea, for the
Dutch were blockading Macao, so he made up his mind to go overland by
way of India and Thibet. With him was Father d'Orville, a Belgian. After
reaching Sunning-fu, on the confines of Kuantsu, they crossed Kukonor
and Kalmuk Tatary to the Holy City of Lhasa in Thibet, but did not
remain there. They then climbed the Himalayas and from Nepal journeyed
over the Ganges plateau to Patna and Agra. At the latter city d'Orville
died, he was replaced by Father Roth, and the two missionaries tramped
across Asia to Europe. Gruber had been two hundred and fourteen days on
the road. In 1664 he attempted to return to China by way of Russia, but
for some reason or other failed to get through that country. He then
made for Asia but fell ill at Constantinople, finally he died either in
Italy at Florence or at Patak in Hungary. Fortunately he had left his
"Journal" and charts in the hands of the great Athanasius Kircher, who
published them in his famous "China Illustrata."
Other missionaries entered Mingrelia, Paphlagonia, and Chaldea; in the
latter place they brought the Nestorians back to the Church. Besides
laboring in nearby Greece and Thessaly, at Constantinople, they were in
Armenia and at Ephesus, Smyrna, Damascus, Aleppo, at the ruins of
Babylon, and on the shores of the Euphrates and the Jordan, and they
founded the missions of Antourah for the Maronites of Libanus, whom
Henry IV of France took under his protection.
The origin of these Maronite missions reads like a romance. It is found
in the French "Menology" of October 12 which tells us that one day, at a
meeting of his sodalists in Marseilles, Father Amien was talking about
the propagation of the Faith and incidentally mentioned Persia, which
only one missionary had as yet entered. Among his hearers was a rich
merchant named François Lambert, who, excited by the sermon, determined
to go and put himself at the disposal of that solitary Persian apostle.
He crossed the Arabian desert, reached Bagdad, embarked on the
Euphrates, with the intention of getting to Ispahan in Persia and when
he failed in this, he turned towards Ormuz on the straits connecting the
Persian Gulf with the Arabian Sea. That place, however, could not keep
him; it was too luxurious and too licentious; so he went over to upper
Hindostan, where the Great Mogul was enthroned. He passed through Surate
and Golconda, but from Mylapore, which holds the tomb of St. Thomas, he
could not tear himself away for several weeks. Finally, he boarded a
ship which was wrecked on the shores of Bengal, and twice he came within
an inch of disappearing in the deep. After two days and two nights on
the desolate sands, he and five other castaways sang the Te Deum to
make them forget their sorrow. They must have struck inland after that
for we are told that later they built a raft and floated down one of the
great rivers of India. It was a journey of thirty-five days, and several
of the poor wanderers died of hunger on the way. At last they reached a
native settlement and were led to the nearest Portuguese post.
Unfortunately, the geography at this part of Lambert's narrative is too
vague for us to be sure of the places he saw on his journey.
From India he made his way to Rome, where he entered the Jesuit
novitiate of San Andrea, and from there, after his ordination, he was
sent to Syria. Again he was shipwrecked, and when picked up on the beach
he was taken for a pirate and brought in chains to the chief of the
mountaineer clan. Happily they were the Maronites of Libanus, and there
Lambert remained till the end of his days, helping the persecuted people
to keep their faith against their furious Mussulman neighbours. These
Maronites had been represented, by postulatory letters at the Lateran
Council as early as 1516, and later Pope Gregory XIII built for them in
Rome a hospital and a college which produced some very eminent scholars.
In 1616 Clement VIII sent the Jesuit, Girolamo Dandini, to preside at
the Maronite council, for the purpose of introducing certain liturgical
reforms; but it was the wanderer Lambert who was the first to remain
permanently among this heroic people. He lived only three years after
his arrival; it was long enough, however, to prepare the way for the
five mission centres which were subsequently established there.
Alexandre de Rhodes, who appears at this juncture, is another of the
picturesque figures in the history of the Society. According to Fénelon,
it is he who inspired the formation of the great association of the
Missions Etrangères, which has sent so many thousands of glorious
apostles, many of whom were martyrs, to evangelize the countries from
which he had come in a most unexpected and extraordinary fashion. He was
born in Avignon, the old French City of the Popes, and was called by his
contemporaries the "Francis Xavier of Cochin-China and Tonkin." He left
Rome for the Indies when he was only twenty-six years of age, and began
his missionary work in the East by looking after the slaves and
jailbirds of Goa. On his way from that city to Tuticorin he baptized
fifty pagans on shipboard, his eloquence being helped by the furious
tempest that threatened to send the frail bark to the bottom. While
waiting at Malacca for the ship to get ready, he and his companion
captured another two thousand souls for the Lord, and when he arrived at
his destination, other thousands came into the fold, among them the king
and eighteen members of the royal household, and two hundred of the
priests of the pagan temples. Nor did this rapidity denote instability,
for twenty-five years later the Church of Tuticorin which he founded
could count at its altars no less than 300,000 Christians.
It is said that he had even the power of making thaumaturgists out of
his catechumens. By the use of holy water or the relic of the cross,
they restored people to health, and as many as two hundred and seventy
sufferers from various maladies were the recipients of such favors. When
he was thrown into prison and loaded with fetters, as he often was, he
converted his jailers and others besides. When carried off in a ship to
be ejected from the country, he baptized the captain and crew and got
them to put him ashore in a desolate place where he began a new
apostolate. Fifteen times, in his journeys to Tonkin and Cochin-China,
he crossed the Gulf of Tonkin, which had a terrible record of tempests
and shipwrecks, and finally he started on his famous overland tramp to
Europe in search of evangelical laborers. He achieved his purpose,
though it took him three years and a half to do it.
On that memorable journey he risked his life at every step, for he had
to travel through countries whose language he did not understand, and
where he could expect nothing but suspicion, ill-treatment and, if he
escaped death, privations and sufferings of every description. On his
way to Rome the Dutch in Java threw him in jail, but he converted his
keepers, and was segregated in consequence and put in solitary
confinement; he regarded that seclusion only as a splendid chance to
make his annual retreat, and when he was let out he resumed his
pilgrimage through India and Asia. As he said himself, he was carried on
the wings of Divine Providence, through storms and shipwrecks, and
cities and deserts, and barbarians and pagans, and heretics and Turks.
He finally reached Rome in 1648, and told the Father General and the
Pope what was needed in the far-away Orient. The purpose of this voyage,
so replete with adventure, was of very great importance.
It was chiefly by the help of Portugal, which was then at the most
brilliant epoch of its history, that missions had been extended for
thousands of miles in the East, beginning at Goa and Malabar, and
stretching round the Peninsula of Hindostan to Cochin-China, Corea, and
Japan, in many of which splendid ecclesiastical establishments had been
founded. They were all begun, supported and protected by Portugal. But
unfortunately, Christianity and Portugal were so inextricably entangled,
mixed and confused with one another that the religion taught by the
missionaries came to be considered by the people not so much the
religion of Christ as the religion of the Portuguese. Another
consequence was that a quarrel between any little Portuguese official or
merchant with an Oriental potentate meant a persecution of the Church.
Furthermore, as Portugal's possession of the country was so exclusive
that not even the most humble missionary could leave Europe unless he
was acceptable to the Government, it amounted to an actual enslavement
of the Church. Finally, as every other nation was debarred from
commercial rights in the East, it became the practice of rivals to
represent to the natives that the missionaries were merely Portuguese
spies or advance agents who were preparing for invasion and conquest.
Unfortunately, in return for all that Portugal had done and was to do
for the advancement of Christianity in those newly discovered lands, an
arrangement had been made with the Pope that no bishop in all that vast
territory could take his see unless Portugal accepted him; no new
diocese could be created unless Portugal were consulted; no papal bull
was valid unless passed upon by the Portuguese kings. To put an end to
all that, was the reason why de Rhodes went to Europe. But he did not
dare to appear before the Pope as a Jesuit, for if it were known what
his mission was every Jesuit house in the Portuguese possessions would
have been immediately closed, as happened later. Hence it was that he
had to wait in Rome for three whole years until 1651 before he could
even get his petition considered, and this explains also why he made the
extravagant demand for "a patriarch, three archbishops, and twelve
bishops." By asking much he thought he might at least get something.
The Pope wanted de Rhodes himself to be a bishop; he refused the honor,
and then was told to go and find some available candidates. For that
purpose he addressed himself to a group of ecclesiastics at Paris whom
the Jesuit Father Bagot was directing in the ways of the higher
spiritual life, and who were often spoken of as the Bagotists. Among
them were Montmorency de Laval, the future Bishop of Quebec, and M.
Olier, who was, later on, to found the Society of St. Sulpice. His
appeal had no immediate result, and he then prepared to return to
Tonkin, but he received an order to go elsewhere. Probably no Portuguese
vessel would take him back, for the purpose of his visit to Europe must
have by that time got abroad. He was, therefore, sent to Persia,
although he was then over sixty years old; so to Persia he went, and we
find him studying the language on his way thither, and, when travelling
through the streets of Ispahan, making a fool of himself in trying to
stammer out the few words he had learned, but always making light of the
laughter and sometimes of the kicks and cuffs and even threats of death
that he received. He was planning new missionary posts in Georgia and
Tatary when death called him to his reward. But he had already won the
admiration of Ispahan, and the city never saw a costlier funeral than
the one which, on November 7, 1660, conveyed to the grave the mortal
remains of the glorious Alexandre de Rhodes.
This journey of the great missionary is a classic in its emphasis of the
earnestness the Society has always shown to have the episcopacy
established in its missions. It is idle to pretend that this project of
de Rhodes was due to his own initiative, and was not sanctioned by his
superiors. He may, indeed, have suggested it, but no one in the Society
undertakes a work from which he may be withdrawn at any moment, except
he is assigned to it. Now de Rhodes continued at his task for several
years, and evidently with the approval of his superiors.
Apparently unsuccessful though his effort was, it brought about some
results. Mme. d'Aiguillon, the niece of Cardinal Richelieu, took the
matter up, but even she, with her great influence, could induce the
ecclesiastical authorities to do no more than create one little
vicariate Apostolic. It was a far cry from the great hierarchical scheme
of de Rhodes. One of the Bagotists, Pallu, was appointed, though, for a
time there was a question of sending Laval also to the East; but the
necessity of having a bishop in Quebec was so urgent that Pallu was sent
alone to Tonkin.
Portugal, however, refused to carry him thither, although Louis XIV
asked it as a special favor. In 1658 when Pallu attempted to go out at
his own risk he reached not Cochin-China but Siam. He was back again in
France in 1665, begging protection against the Portuguese, who were
arresting his priests and putting them in jail at Goa and Macao. In 1674
he was shipwrecked in the Philippines and carried off a prisoner to
Spain, and was liberated only by the united efforts of the Pope and
Louis XIV. He set sail again, but was driven ashore on the Island of
Formosa and never reached Tonkin.
Meantime the Jesuits had not forgotten Francis Xavier's dream about
China. The Dominican Gaspar de la Cruz had found his way through its
closed gates, four years after Xavier expired on the island opposite
Canton, but he was promptly expelled. It was only in 1581, fully
thirty-six years subsequent to the attempt of de la Cruz, that the
Jesuits finally succeeded. All that time they had been waiting at
Macao,--a settlement granted to the Portuguese in return for the
assistance given to China in beating off a fleet of plundering
sea-rovers. They had long since seen the folly of attempting to enter a
new country under the shadow of some pretentious embassy, for
inevitably a suspicion was left lurking in the minds of both the
governments and the people that there was an ulterior political motive
back of the preaching of the priests. Hence it was that Valignani,
though in general believing in embassies to kings and rulers, after the
new religion was well understood and accepted in a country, had become
convinced that it was unwise to begin the work in that ostentatious
fashion. He, therefore, took three clever young Italians, Michele
Ruggieri, Francesco Pasio and Matteo Ricci, and after training them
thoroughly in mathematics and in all the branches of the natural
sciences, ordered them not only to master the Chinese language, but also
to familiarize themselves with the literature and the history of the
country. Ricci was available especially as a mathematician, having been
the favorite pupil of Father Clavius, who was one of the chief
constructors of the Gregorian Calendar.
According to Huc (p. 40) they gained access to the forbidden land by
taking part in a comedy. A viceroy, he tells us, who lived near Canton,
summoned to his tribunal on some charge or other both the bishop and the
governor of Macao. This was a grievous insult to those dignitaries, but
on the other hand if they refused to appear, the result might be
disastrous for the whole Portuguese colony. To extricate themselves from
the dilemma a trick was resorted to--one which was quite in keeping with
Chinese methods. Instead of going themselves, they sent two persons who
pretended to be the bishop and governor. For the former Father Ruggieri
was chosen, for the latter, a layman. On the face of it, the story is
absurd. It would be impossible to impersonate two such well-known
functionaries as a bishop and a governor, and the discovery of such a
fraud would inevitably entail condign punishment. Most probably
Ruggieri and his companion went simply as representatives of the two
functionaries. They were well provided with presents, which had the
desired effect of making the viceroy forget his grievances, if he had
any. He accepted everything very graciously and suggested a second
visit. Then Ruggieri apprised him of the longing he had always
entertained of passing his whole life in the wonderful land of China,
with its marvellously intellectual people, and was assured that his wish
might possibly be gratified later on. But when a hint was thrown out
about a wonderful clock which the missionary possessed and was extremely
anxious to show such an important personage as the viceroy, every
difficulty about a permanent residence immediately disappeared.
The party was conducted back to the boat with great ceremony; and when
Ruggieri's return was delayed by an attack of sickness, the viceregal
junk was sent to the Island to convey him to Tchao-King; and also to
deliver into his hands a formal authorization to establish a house in
the town. Valignani, who was then at Macao, hesitated for a time about
accepting the offer, but finally consented. On December 18 Ruggieri
embarked, taking with him Father Pasio and a scholastic, along with
several Chinese. This addition to the party somewhat surprised the
viceroy, but Ruggieri told him that being a priest, it was in keeping
with his dignity to have an attendant. The others were only servants,
but the clock did the work, and the audacious apostles received a
Buddhist temple outside the town as their place of residence, and were
the recipients of frequent favors in the way of food from the delighted
viceroy. He even granted permission to Ruggieri to call Ricci from
Macao. Their temple-residence soon became famous, and every one in
Tchao-King, from the highest civil and military functionaries down to
what we now call coolies, came out to see the occupants.
Unfortunately, the viceroy was deposed and his successor, objecting to
the presence of the foreigners, ordered the whole party to return to
Macao. They did not obey, but made an attempt to reach Canton, which the
former official had given them authority to enter. They succeeded by
purposely getting themselves arrested in Hong-Kong. But in Canton no
attention was paid to the document they had with them, and so they made
their way back to Macao, convinced that there was no hope of remaining
in China under the new incumbent. Yet to their great surprise, the very
man they feared sent an envoy over to Macao to bring the three
missionaries back to Tchao-King. He welcomed them effusively and gave
them a beautiful site for their residence, quite close to a famous
porcelain tower, which had just been erected and was considered a
monument of Chinese architecture. This was the cradle of Christianity in
China.
In 1589, however, there arrived a new viceroy who took a fancy to their
residence, and without any ceremony dispossessed them. But as they had
already won such favor by their maps and globes and astronomical
instruments, when they came to Tchao-Tcheou looking for a house, they
were received with the wildest demonstrations of joy. They grew more
popular every day, and soon the mandarins of Canton invited Ricci to
speak in their assemblies. He availed himself of all these opportunities
afforded him to inject into his scientific discourses something about
religion, and he noted that they showed greater attention when he
broached such topics than when he restricted himself to purely human
science. Troubles occurred from time to time, but the number of
neophytes increased daily, and Ricci, who up to that time had worn the
dress of a bonze now discarded it and assumed the garb of a Chinese man
of letters.
In 1595 the news came that the Japanese emperor, Taicosama was preparing
an expedition against Corea, whereupon, the general-in-chief of the
Chinese troops came down to Tchao-Tcheou to consult Ricci. But it was
not so much to discuss the military situation as to get him to restore a
favorite child to health. Ricci promised to pray for the boy, and in
return asked to accompany the general back to Pekin for he was convinced
that if he could once convert the educated classes of the capital the
rest of his work would be easy. The request was granted, and Ricci was
thus, very probably, the first white man to travel through the interior
of China and to see the people of the cities and country at close range.
At Nankin, however, he noted the deep suspicion entertained for
foreigners, and although he went as far as Pekin itself, he thought it
wiser not to enter the city, and consequently he returned by the Yellow
River to Tchao-Tcheou.
Taicosama's expedition from Japan proved a failure, and the public
anxiety about foreigners ceased to be acute. This lull enabled Ricci to
establish himself at Nankin, which seemed to have struck his fancy as he
passed through it on his way to Pekin. The city was in a fever about the
study of astronomy and astrology, and he found a hearty welcome among
its learned men. He taught them in his daily intercourse many of the
doctrines of the Faith, and got in return from them the real meaning of
their ancestor-worship and ceremonies. Hence, he had no scruples at all
about taking part in the honors paid to Confucius, who was the great
legislator and teacher of China, and he never suspected that there
would be later a hue and cry in the Church about the alleged idolatry of
these very ceremonies.
Meantime he forwarded information about the observatory of Nankin that
quite astounded scientific Europe. Nankin, however, did not satisfy him,
and he made constant but unavailing efforts to reach the imperial city
of Pekin. Finally, in 1600, after seventeen years of patient waiting, he
succeeded. His coming produced a great sensation. He was even admitted
to the palace, but really never saw the emperor, though the people at
large fancied he had been accorded that privilege. However, it amounted
almost to the same thing, for the effect produced and his real
missionary success dated from that moment. The greatest mandarin of the
court became a Christian and almost a saint, though his name was Sin.
Later, Sin went about preaching Christianity. His conversion itself was
a sermon, and was the beginning of many others. Meantime the five
Jesuits at Canton drew multitudes around them. The upper classes flocked
to hear their discourses, and began to take pride in being considered
Christians, but it was hard for them to understand why the Gospel was
not exclusively restricted to their set. They could not yet grasp the
fact, even after baptism, that the lower classes had the same privilege
of salvation as themselves. To the Chinese mind it was a social
revolution, and they were right, but they were wrong in objecting to it.
Here an interesting episode occurs. Associated with Father Geronimo
Aquaviva in the court of the Grand Mogul at Agra was a Portuguese
lay-brother named Benedict Goes. Although engaged only in domestic
service, he was in great favor with the barbarian monarch, and if the
Viceroy of India was saved from disaster, it was due to Goes, who not
only persuaded the Grand Mogul to desist from war with the Portuguese,
but succeeded in having himself sent down to Goa with all the children
who had been captured in the various raids of Akbar's armies into
Portuguese territory. While he was at Agra, reports had been coming in
that the Fathers had at last entered China--the Cathay of the old
Franciscans of the thirteenth century, and it was deemed advisable to
try to establish communications with them. Goes was chosen to carry out
the project, and, in 1602, he started from Agra, which lies in the
northern part of Hindostan, about south of Delhi and west of Lucknow. It
meant a journey from the centre of Hindostan, across the whole of Thibet
and China, among absolutely unknown nations, savage and semi-civilized,
Mohammedans and idolaters, through trackless forests and over snow-clad
mountains, facing the dangers of starvation and sickness and wild beasts
at every step. But all that was not thought to be beyond the powers of
the courageous brother. Disguised as an Armenian, he had a hard time of
it from robber chiefs and barbarian princes. He was ill-treated by most
of them, for he openly professed that he was a Christian. When he
refused to pay respect to Mohammed, he was sentenced to be trampled to
death by elephants, but he was finally pardoned and allowed to resume
his journey. On he plodded for five years, and just as he was nearing
the goal his strength gave out. Fortunately Father Ricci, at Pekin, had
heard of his coming, and sent Father Fernandes to meet him. When
Fernandes arrived, Goes was breathing his last in the frontier town of
Su-Chou. It was then 1607, and the dying man told his brother Jesuit:
"For five years I have been without the sacraments, but I do not
remember any serious sin since I set out from Agra." He died on April 7,
1607.
In 1606 there was worry in China about certain reports originating in
Macao, where the Portuguese were stationed. The Jesuits were accused of
aspiring to nothing else than the imperial throne; to prove it,
attention was called to the fact that all their houses were built on
hills, and could be easily transformed into citadels in time of war. It
was said, too, that a Dutch fleet in the offing was at their service,
and that arrangements had been made with the Japanese for an invasion.
The result was a general panic throughout the empire and not a few
apostacies. Threats to kill the missionaries also began to be heard.
Coincident with this, came an unwise act on the part of the
Vicar-General of Macao, who, because of a decision against him in a
dispute he had with the Franciscans, put the whole island under
interdict. The result was that the political situation became still more
threatening, and Father Martines was arrested at Canton, tortured in the
most horrible fashion, and finally executed. This death, however, marked
as it was by the heroic courage of the victim, his affirmations in the
midst of his sufferings of his own innocence and that of his brethren,
quelled the storm. Ricci's influence, also, contributed to calm the
excited people, and he became greater than ever in their estimation. He
was called another Confucius, and was even empowered by the authorities
to establish a novitiate at Pekin. Ricci was well on in years by that
time, but continued valiantly at his work, making saints as well as
great littérateurs and mathematicians out of his Jesuit associates; he
wrote treatises in Chinese on Christian ethics, while continuing his
mathematical works, and all day long he was busy with the great
mandarins who came to consult him. In 1610 he succumbed under these
accumulated labors, and his obsequies were such as had never been
accorded to any other foreigner. The funeral procession, preceded by the
cross, traversed the entire city, and by order of the emperor his
remains were laid in a temple, which was thenceforth transformed into a
Christian church.
Mr. Gutzlaff, a Protestant missionary in China of modern times, says
that "Ricci had spent only twenty-seven years in China but when he died
there were more than three hundred churches in the different provinces."
Gutzlaff's testimony is all the more precious, because, according to
Marshall, his own associates describe him as "more occupied in amassing
wealth than in making Christians." Referring to the scientific labors of
Ricci and his successors, Thornton (History of China, Preface, p. 13)
says: "The geographical labors performed in China by the Jesuits and
other missionaries of the Roman Catholic Faith will always command the
gratitude and excite the wonder of all geographers. Portable
chronometers and aneroid barometers, sextants and theodolites,
sympiesometers and micrometers, compasses and artificial horizons are,
notwithstanding all possible care, frequently found to fail, yet one
hundred and fifty years ago a few wandering European priests traversed
the enormous state of China Proper, and laid down on their maps the
positions of cities, the direction of rivers and the height of mountains
with a correctness of detail and a general accuracy of outline that are
absolutely marvellous. To this day all our maps are based on their
observations." "Whatever is valuable in Chinese astronomical science,"
adds Mr. Gutzlaff, "has been borrowed from the treatises of Roman
Catholic missionaries."
Ricci's death was a calamity to the Church, for in the following year a
mandarin who was in charge at Nankin started a genuine persecution. The
missionaries were summoned to his tribunal, publicly scourged and sent
back to Macao--and all this with the authorization of the emperor.
Matters grew worse, but at the emperor's death in 1620, there was a
lull, for the Tatars were invading China and the help of the Portuguese
had to be invoked; as that, however, could not be done unless the
Europeans were placated by recalling the missionaries, the exiles
returned to their posts. The emperor overcame the Tatars, and the
tranquillity and good feeling that followed allowed the Fathers, who
were scattered all over the empire, some of them 800 leagues from Pekin,
to get together and decide on uniformity of methods in treating with
their converts. In that congregation the doubts which met them at every
step as to what they were to tolerate and what to forbid were settled.
They knew the people thoroughly by this time, their ideas, their
customs; and their scrupulous love of the Faith guided them in their
decisions.
About this time the great Adam Schall arrived. He was a worthy successor
of Ricci. His reputation had preceded him as a mathematician, and he was
immediately employed by the emperor to reform the Chinese calendar. His
influence, in consequence of this distinction, was unbounded in
extending the field of missionary work. The pagans themselves built a
church at his request in Sin-gan-fou, and he obtained an edict from the
emperor which empowered the Jesuits to preach throughout the empire. The
extraordinary success of Schall was the talk of Europe; and applications
poured in on the General from all sides to be sent out to share the
labors and the triumphs of the mission. Great numbers of Jesuits were
sent there, but many perished on the way out, for shipwrecks were very
common in those unknown seas, and the crowded and unhealthy ships as
well as the long and difficult journey claimed throngs of victims.
The work soon became too great for the laborers and then there came a
reinforcement from the Philippines, largely from the other religious
orders who had been long waiting to enter China, and who now devoted
themselves to the work. Not knowing the country, however, they were
horrified to see that many of the practices of Confucianism were still
retained by the Chinese Christians, and they denounced as idolatry what
the old Jesuits had decided, after years of close scrutiny, to be
nothing but a ceremonial which had been thoroughly and scrupulously
purified from all taint of superstition. But the newcomers would not
look at it in that light. They immediately wrote to the Archbishop of
Manila and to the Bishop of Cebú that the Jesuits not only concealed
from their converts the mysteries of the Cross, but permitted them to
prostrate themselves before the idol of Chin-Hoam, to honor their
ancestors with superstitious rites, and to offer sacrifices to
Confucius. Rome was then informed of it, but some years later, namely in
1637, both the archbishop and the bishop wrote to Urban VIII that on
examining the matter more carefully, they had arrived at the conclusion
that the Jesuits were right. It was then too late. A series of bloody
persecutions had already begun. The first explosion of wrath occurred
when one of the new preachers, speaking through an interpreter, told his
congregation that Confucius and all their pagan ancestors were in hell,
and that the Jesuits had not taught the Chinese the truth. Public
indignation followed on this unwise utterance and expulsions began.
Fortunately, the persecutions were checked for a while by fresh attempts
of the Tatar element in China to seize the imperial crown. The Jesuits
kept out of the strife by pronouncing for neither party. Happily, the
Tatar element took a fancy to Schall, while Father Coeffler baptized the
Chinese empress, giving her the Christian name of Helen and calling her
infant son Constantine. The Tatars finally prevailed, and Schall was
made a mandarin and president of the board of mathematics of the empire.
He was given access to the emperor at all times, and might have made him
a Christian had not the empress induced him to resume the pagan
practices from which Schall had weaned him. Nor did the death of the
troublesome lady mend matters; on the contrary, her disconsolate husband
lapsed into melancholia, and in 1661 died, leaving a child of eight as
his successor. In pursuance of the emperor's command, Schall was
appointed instructor of the prince, but, as was to be expected, that
arrangement aroused the fury of the people and especially of the bonzes.
They maintained, rightfully from their point of view, that if Schall
were left in position during the long minority of the prince, he would
be absolute master of the future emperor--a result that must be
prevented by crushing out Christianity. Forthwith all the missionaries
were summoned to Pekin and thrown into prison. There was now no longer
any discussion about the worship of Confucius, for the disputants were
all in the dungeons of Pekin or elsewhere waiting for death.
The Christians were without pastors, but Father Gresson, who was in
China at that time, tells us in his "History of China under the Tatars"
that, during the persecution, the catechists baptized 2000 converts. It
is not surprising, for before the outbreak of the persecution, the
Jesuits had one hundred and fifty-one churches and thirty-eight
residences in China; the Dominicans twenty-one churches and two
residences, and the Franciscans one establishment. The total Christian
population amounted to 250,000. Up to that time the Fathers of the
Society had written one hundred and thirty-one works on religious
subjects, one hundred and three on mathematics, and fifty-five on
physics.
While the missionaries lay in chains expecting death at every moment, a
Dominican named Navarrete succeeded in making his escape. It was lucky
for him in one respect, but in all probability it would mean as soon as
it was discovered the massacre of all the other prisoners; to avert this
calamity, the illustrious Jesuit, Grimaldi, took his place in the
prison. Unfortunately, Navarrete had no sooner reached Europe than he
began an attack on the methods of the Jesuits in dealing with the
Chinese rites. It caused great grief to his fellow Dominicans, and when
the news of the publication of his "Tratados históricos" reached China
in 1668, the Dominican Father Sarpetri sent a solemn denunciation of it
to Rome, declaring that the practice of the Jesuits in permitting such
rites was not only irreproachable under every point of view, but most
necessary in propagating the Gospel. He denied under oath that the
Jesuits refused to explain the mysteries of the Passion to the Chinese,
and affirmed that his protest against the charge was not in answer to an
appeal, but was prompted by the pure love of truth. Another Dominican,
Gregorio López, who was Bishop of Basilea and Vicar-Apostolic of
Nan-King, sent the Sacred Congregation a "memoir" in favor of the
Jesuits. Navarrete atoned for his act of mistaken judgment later; for
when he was Archbishop of Santo Domingo he asked leave of the king and
viceroy to establish a Jesuit college in his residential city, and he
paid a glowing tribute to the Society.
When Schall was brought up for trial there was, at his side, another
Jesuit named Ferdinand Verbiest, a native of Pilthem near Courtrai in
Belgium. He had come out to China when he was thirty-six years old, and
was first engaged in missionary work in Shen-si. In 1660 he was summoned
to Pekin to assist Father Schall, and in 1664 was thrown into prison
with him. In the court-room, Verbiest was the chief spokesman, for
Schall, being then seventy-four years of age and paralyzed, was unable
to utter a word. The charges against the old missionary had been trumped
up by a Mohammedan who claimed to be an astronomer. They were: first,
that Schall had shown pictures of the Passion of Jesus Christ to the
deceased emperor; secondly, that he had secured the presidency of the
board of mathematics for himself in order to promote Christianity;
thirdly, that he had incorrectly determined the day on which the funeral
of one of the princes was to take place. It was an "unlucky" day.
Verbiest had no difficulty in proving that the accused had been ordered
by the emperor to be president of the board of mathematics, and
furthermore, that he never had anything to do with "lucky" or "unlucky"
days. The charge about the pictures of the Passion was admitted, and
that may have been the reason why, in spite of the eloquence of
Verbiest, who was loaded with chains while he was pleading, Father
Schall was condemned to be hacked to pieces. In this trouble, however,
the Lord came to the rescue: a meteor of an extraordinary kind appeared
in the heavens, and a fire reduced to ashes that part of the imperial
palace where the condemnation was pronounced. The sentence was revoked,
and the missionaries were set free. Father Schall lingered a year after
recovering his freedom. When Kang-hi came to the throne in 1669, an
official declaration was made denouncing both the trial and the sentence
as iniquitous, and although Schall had then been three years dead,
unusually solemn funeral services were ordered in his honor. His remains
were laid beside those of Father Ricci. The emperor himself composed the
eulogistic epitaph which was inscribed on the tomb.
Schall had given forty-four years of his life to China, when at the age
of seventy-five, he breathed his last in the arms of Father Rho, who,
like him, was to hold a distinguished position as mathematician in the
imperial court. Rho had preluded his advent to China by organizing the
defense of the Island of Macao against a Dutch fleet. He had new
ramparts constructed around the city; he planted four pieces of
artillery on the walls, and when the Dutchmen landed for an assault he
led the troops in a sortie and drove the enemy back to their ships. In
his "Promenade autour du Monde" (II, 266), Baron de Hübner gives an
enthusiastic description of the Jesuit Observatory at Pekin.
"Man's inhumanity to man" is cruelly exemplified in a foul accusation
urged against the venerable Schall, a century after he was buried with
imperial honors in Pekin. In 1758 a certain Marcello Angelita, secretary
of Mgr. de Tournon, the prelate who was commissioned to pass on the
question of the Malabar Rites, published a story, which was repeated in
many other books, that Schall had spent his last years "separated from
the other missionaries, removed from obedience to his superiors, in a
house which had been given him by the emperor, and with a woman whom he
treated as his wife, and who bore him two children. After having led a
pleasant life with his family for some years, he ended his days in
obscurity." If there was even the shadow of truth in these accusations
the Dominican Navarrete, who knew Schall personally, and who wrote
against him and his brethren so fiercely in 1667, would not have failed
to mention this fact to confirm his charges about the Chinese Rites. But
he does not breathe a word about any misconduct on the part of the great
missionary. Moreover, it is inconceivable that the vigorous Father
General Oliva, who governed the Society at that time, would have
tolerated that state of things for a single instant.
The foundation upon which the charge was built appears to be that the
old missionary used to call a Chinese mandarin his "adopted grandson"
and had helped to advance him to lucrative positions in the empire. The
libel was written forty years after Schall's death, and was largely
inspired by the infamous ex-Capuchin Norbert.
Possibly the mental attitude of Angelita's master, de Tournon, may also
account in part for the publication of this calumny. De Tournon was
known to be a bitter enemy of the Society, and he took no pains to
conceal it when sent to the East to decide the vexed question of the
Rites. Although on his arrival at Pondicherry in 1703, the Fathers met
him on the shore and conducted him processionally to the city, he
interpreted these marks of respect and the lavish generosity with which
they looked after all his needs as nothing but policy. Not only did he
refuse to give them a hearing on their side of the controversy, but he
hurried off elsewhere as soon as he had formulated his decree. When he
arrived in Canton, the first words he uttered were: "I come to China to
purify its Catholicity," and before taking any information whatever, he
ordered the removal of all the symbols which he considered
superstitious. The act created an uproar, as it was only through the
influence of the Fathers that de Tournon was permitted to go to Pekin;
and although they managed to make his entrance into the imperial city
unusually splendid, he immediately informed the emperor of a plan he
had made to reconstruct the missions but, expressed himself in such an
offensive fashion that the emperor immediately dismissed him. He then
repaired to Canton, and on January 28, 1707, issued the famous order
forbidding the cult of the ancestors, with the result that the emperor
sent down officials to conduct him to Macao, where he was reported to
have died in prison, on June 8, 1710.
The Mohammedan mandarin, Yang, who had trumped up the astronomical
accusations against Schall, had meantime succeeded to the post as head
of the mathematical board, but the young emperor was not satisfied with
the results obtained, and he ordered a public dispute on the relative
merits of Chinese and European astronomy. Verbiest was on one side, and
Yang on the other. The test was to be first, the determination, in
advance, of the shadow given at noon of a fixed day by a gnomon of a
given height; second, the absolute and relative position of the sun and
the planets on a date assigned; third, the time of a lunar eclipse. The
result was a triumph for Verbiest. He was immediately installed as
president, and his brethren were allowed to return to their missions.
Verbiest's career, at Pekin, was more brilliant than that of either
Ricci or Schall. There is no end of the things he did. The famous bronze
astronomical instruments which figured so conspicuously in the Boxer
Uprising of 1900 were of his manufacture; he built an aqueduct also, and
cast as many as one hundred and thirty-two cannon for the Chinese army.
The emperor followed his astronomical classes, appointed him to the
highest grade in the mandarinate, and gave him leave to preach
Christianity anywhere in the empire. Innocent XI, to whom he dedicated
his Chinese Missal, sent him a brief in 1681, which contained the
greatest praise for "using the profane sciences to promote
Christianity," a commendation which was more than welcome at that time,
when the book of Navarrete was doing its evil work against the Society.
In 1677 when Verbiest was appointed vice-provincial, he appealed for new
laborers from Europe. He even advocated the use of the native language
in the liturgy in order to facilitate the ordination of Chinese priests.
It was a bold petition to make when the memory of Luther and his German
liturgy was still so fresh in the mind of Europe. The reason for the
petition was that otherwise the conversion of China was impossible.
Brucker in his history of the Society tells us that for one hundred
years no native had been ordained a priest in China. He gives as a
reason for this, the disgust of the Portuguese government at the failure
met with in Hindostan, where the formation of a native clergy was
attempted. That alone would be sufficient to acquit the Society of any
guilt in this matter; but he gives facts to his readers which go to show
very plainly that this failure to create a native Chinese priesthood
clearly evidences the Society's desire to have one at any cost. It is
paradoxical, but it is true.
The great lapse of time that passed without any ordinations need cause
no alarm. There are instances of greater delay with less excuse very
near home. For instance, there were secular priests and religious in
Canada as early as 1603, but there was no seminary there till 1663,
although the colony had all the power of Catholic France back of it.
There were Catholics in Maryland in 1634, yet there was no theological
seminary until 1794, that is for a space of 160 years. After a few
years' struggle with only five pupils, and in some of these years none,
it was closed and was not re-opened until 1810, which is a far cry from
1634. New York did not attempt to found a seminary until the time of its
fourth bishop. The house at Nyack was burned down before it was
occupied; the Lafargeville project also proved a failure and it was not
until 1841 that the diocesan seminary was opened at Fordham.
Moreover, in none of these seminaries was there the remotest thought of
forming a _native_ clergy in the sense of the word employed in the
anti-Jesuit indictment. The seminarians were all foreigners or sons of
foreigners. There were no native Indians in these establishments, as
that, apart from intellectual and moral reasons, would have been a
physiological impossibility. Nature rebels against the transplanting of
a creature of the woods and mountains to the confinement of a lecture
hall. The old martyr of Colonial times, Father Daniel, brought a number
of Indian boys from Huronia to Quebec to educate them, but they fled to
the forests, while the Indian girls, who were lodged with the Ursulines,
died of consumption. Even in our own times, Archbishop Gillow of Oaxaca,
Mexico, brought a number of pure-blooded Indians to Rome, in the hope of
making them priests, but they all died before he attained any results.
In brief, we in America have never formed a _native_ clergy.
Moreover, this century-stretch of failure in China is cut down
considerably when we recall the fact that for a considerable time there
were only two or, at most, three Jesuits in that vast empire, and that
they contrived to remain there only because they interested the learned
part of the populace by their knowledge of mathematics and astronomy,
never daring to broach the subject of religion, though they succeeded
under the pretence of science in circulating everywhere a catechism
which enraptured the _literati_. It was only in the year 1601 that
permission was given to them to preach. Hence, the figure 100 has to be
cut down to 83. In two years time, namely in 1617, there were 13,000
Christians in China. How were the rest to be reached? No help could be
expected from Europe, which was being devastated by the Thirty Years War
(1618-1648). Independently of that, the caste system prevailed in China,
and the learned, even those who were converted, found it difficult to
understand why the wonderful truths of Christianity should be
communicated to the common people, yet it is from the people that
ecclesiastical vocations usually come. Thirdly, the Chinaman has an
instinctive horror of anything foreign. Yet here was a foreign creed
which, moreover, could be thoroughly learned only by a language which
was itself foreign even to the priests who taught it.
The audacious project was then formed to petition the Pope to have the
liturgy, even the Mass, in Chinese. No other modern mission ever dared
to make such a request. As early as 1617, the petition was presented,
and although Pope Paul V favored the scheme, yet the undertaking was so
stupendous and the project so unusual that he withheld any direct or
official recognition. Whereupon the missionaries began the work of
translating into Chinese not only the Missal and Ritual, but an entire
course of moral theology with the cases of conscience. In addition a
large part of the "Summa" of St. Thomas along with many other books
which might be useful to the future priest were rendered into the
vernacular. The work was begun by Father Trigault in 1615 and was
continued by others up to 1682, when the Pope while accepting the
dedication of a Chinese Missal by Verbiest, finally concluded that it
would be impolitic to grant permission for a liturgy in Chinese. This
gigantic undertaking ought of itself to be a sufficient answer to the
charge that the Jesuits were averse to the formation of a native clergy.
The scheme failed, it is true, but the attempt is a sufficient answer to
the hackneyed charge against the Society.
It might be asked, however, why did they not foresee the possible
failure of their request and provide otherwise for priests? In the first
place, there were Dominicans and Franciscans in China, and it might be
proper to ask them why they excluded the Chinese from the ministry?
Secondly, the Jesuits had all they could do to defend themselves from
the charge of idolatry for sanctioning the Chinese Rites. Thirdly when
Schall arrived in 1622 there were no missionaries to be met
anywhere--they were in prison or in exile. Fourthly, in 1637 there was a
bloody persecution. Fifthly, in 1644 the Tatar invasion occurred with
the usual havoc, and the Manchu dynasty was inaugurated. Sixthly, in
1664 Schall hitherto such a great man in the empire was imprisoned and
condemned to be hacked to pieces and Verbiest was lying in chains. It is
quite comprehensible, therefore, that in such a condition of things,
quiet seminary life was impossible, and as the Jesuits were suspected of
leaning to Confucianism it would have been quite improper to entrust to
them the formation of a secular clergy.
When Verbiest wrote home for help, numbers of volunteers left Europe for
China. Louis XIV was especially enthusiastic in furthering the movement,
and, among other favors he conferred the title of "Fellows of the
Academy of Science and Royal Mathematicians" on six Jesuits of Paris,
and sent them off to Pekin. But when they arrived, Verbiest was dead.
They were in time, however, for his funeral, which took place on March
11, 1688, with the same honors that had been accorded to Ricci and
Schall. He was laid to rest at their side. His successors began their
work by establishing what was called the French Mission of China, which
lasted until the suppression of the Society. The great difficulty in
sending missionaries thither by sea had long exercised the minds of the
superiors of the Society, especially after a startling announcement was
made by Father Couplet, who, after passing many years in China, had
returned home, shattered in health and altogether unable to continue his
work. He said that, after a very careful count, he had found that of the
six hundred Jesuits who had attempted to enter China from the time that
Ruggieri and Ricci had succeeded in gaining an entrance there, as many
as four hundred had either died of sickness on the way or had been lost
at sea. De Rhodes had shown that an overland route was possible from
India to Europe; the lay-brother Goes had succeeded in getting to China
from the land of the Great Mogul, Gruber had reversed the process, and
in 1685 an attempt was made by Father Avril, to reach it by the way of
Russia, but he failed.
Avril's account of his journey has been shockingly "done out of French"
by a translator who prudently withheld his name. It was "published in
London, at Maidenhead, over against St. Dunstan's Church, in Fleet
Street." Its date is 1693. From it we learn that Father Avril started
from Marseilles and made for Civita Vecchia, after paying his respects
in Rome to Father General de Noyelle, he went to Leghorn, where he took
ship on a vessel that was convoyed by a man-of-war called the
"Thundering Jupiter." Passing by Capraia, Elba, Sardinia, and nearly
wrecked off the "Coast of Candy," his ship dropped anchor in the Lerneca
roadstead after three days' voyage, but without the "Thundering
Jupiter." It was still at sea. He touched at Cyprus and Alexandretta,
then proceeded to Aleppo, crossing the plain of Antioch in a caravan.
He was fleeced by an Armenian who professed to be a friend of the
Jesuits, then he crossed the Tigris or Tiger, and arrived at Erzerum in
time for an earthquake. Continuing his journey through the intervening
territory to what he calls the "Caspian Lake", he finally reached
Moscow, after being almost burned to death on the Volga, when his ship
took fire. At Moscow he was welcomed by the German Jesuits who had a
house there, for Prince Gallichin (Galitzin) was then prime minister. He
was soon bidden to depart, and crossed a part of Muscovy, Lithuania and
White Russia, reaching Warsaw on March 12, 1686. It was eighteen months
since he had left Leghorn. He made effort after effort to get back to
Muscovy, but in vain. Ambassadors and princes and even Louis XIV found
the Czar obdurate, and so, after two years of unsuccessful endeavor,
Avril arrived at Constantinople, after being imprisoned by the Turks on
his way thither. Finally, he reached Marseilles, having proved, at
least, that the road through Russia would have to be abandoned; hence,
it was determined to make those overland journeys in the future through
the territory of the Shah of Persia.