As Ricci learned, life in the Taoist and Buddhist monasteries followed the rules laid down by the respective doctrines but was subjected to the rigorous overriding control of the Chinese state through the ministry of rites. In no case was a religious cult allowed to operate in China outside or above the framework of imperial power and challenge the primacy of the Confucian doctrine.
In spite of the differences between the various forms of worship, no religion was regarded as the absolute truth in the Middle Kingdom, and the boundaries between doctrines were very blurred. While the peasants made no substantial distinctions between the divinities of popular worship and those of Buddhism and Taoism, the literati and officials with their Confucian training also included followers of Buddhism and Taoism and others sympathetic to both doctrines. And even though the most cultured individuals despised all forms of popular superstition, they did not hesitate to kneel down before effigies of the various patron saints when they needed to ask for their intercession and request favors.
As a first step toward spreading their religion, the Jesuits had the Ten Commandments translated into Chinese (Zuchuan Tianzhu shijie) together with the Lord’s Prayer, the Hail Mary, and the Creed. This was followed immediately by the translation, with the aid of a scholar from Fujian who had moved into their residence, of a catechism prepared by Ruggieri two years earlier (entitled Tianzhu shilu, “The Veritable Record of the Lord of Heaven”). The missionaries decided to have this published because they realized that the written word counted for far more than any oral dissertation in China and that a printed work could easily reach a great many people, especially as they still lacked sufficient mastery of the language to convince anyone by preaching alone.
Printed in November 1584, the catechism was the first work to be published by Europeans in China. Written in the form of a dialogue between master and pupil, it presented a short history of Christianity, some reflections on the immortality of the soul, and the Ten Commandments. It was also a Chinese book in terms of appearance, with a cover of blue fabric bearing the imprint of a seal in accordance with local practice, made up in this case of the letters IHS—standing for Iesus Hominum Salvator—beneath a cross, the emblem of the Society of Jesus.
The task of preparing the edition of the prayers and the catechism brought Ricci for the first time up against the problem of what to call the Christian god in Chinese. As he was aware, the missionaries in Japan had used a word similar in sound to deus, namely deusu. This was impossible in Chinese because the letter D was pronounced T. Moreover, Ricci preferred to use a term capable of conveying a sense similar to what the word “God” meant for Christians. He was helped in making this difficult choice by a merchant who had manifested his readiness to adopt the Catholic faith to Ruggieri during his stay in Zhaoqing with Pasio. In order to pray as the Jesuits taught him, the man had constructed a sort of altar in his home and had placed upon it a small wooden tablet bearing the painted word Tianzhu, meaning Lord of Heaven. By agreement with Ruggieri, Ricci chose to use this Chinese name for the Christian god, and a term equivalent to “Our Lady the Mother of the Lord of Heaven” for the Virgin Mary.
The decision seemed right and natural, as Ricci explained in his reports to his superiors, because the Chinese regarded the heavens as a higher entity of sacred character. He was unaware that Tianzhu had already been used to indicate Buddhist and Taoist divinities, and he did not realize that the adoption of a term already endowed with a meaning in Chinese culture might create confusion. He went no further into the question for the moment and felt satisfied with his choice.
The catechism was printed in over a thousand copies and enjoyed wide circulation. The first to receive one was Wang Pan, who in turn presented the Jesuits with two wooden plaques to hang over the doors of the house and the church. Carved with the inscriptions “People from the Holy Land of the West” and “The Church of the Flower of the Saints,” they were a token of great respect for the foreigners.
The preparation of the religious writings was accompanied by initial attempts to win converts. The first to receive baptism was an old man on his deathbed, to whom the Jesuits had given assistance. He was followed by a few more peasants as well as artisans and small shopkeepers. While contenting himself for the moment with reaping the first fruits of his work among people incapable of understanding the doctrinal aspects of the religion, Ricci was determined to make the ruling class the target of his missionary efforts as soon as his mastery of Chinese and his standing in the local society proved satisfactory. He would seek to address scholars and officials, the cultural and political elite of the country, and show them that the Christian doctrine was based on reason.
Notes
1. FR, book II, ch. IV, p. 198.
2. The source used for all quotations from the Analects of Confucius is Roger T. Ames and Henry Rosemont Jr., The Analects of Confucius: A Philosophical Translation (New York: Ballantine Books, 1999).
3. Letter to Giambattista Roman, September 13, 1584; OS II, p. 2.
4. FR, book I, ch. VIII, p. 89.
5. Letter to Giambattista Roman, September 13, 1584; OS II, p. 48.
6. While the Pinyin system of romanization is used systematically in the text, the terms Taoism, Taoist, Tao, and Tao Te Ching have been left in the older Wade-Giles form of transcription due to the extent to which they are already established in the English language.
7. Letter dated November 24, 1585; OS II, p. 70.
8. FR, book I, ch. IV, p. 35.
9. Timothy Brook, The Confusions of Pleasure (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), p. 51.
10. Letter to Giulio Fuligatti, November 24, 1585; OS II, p. 66.
11. FR, book II, ch. V, p. 212.
12. Ricci’s map of the world was a projection of the earth’s surface onto a plane divided into two hemispheres.
13. This was probably a plate from the atlas of Ortelius or a Portuguese map printed in Goa or Macao. See P. D’Elia, Il Mappamondo cinese del Padre Matteo Ricci, cit., pp. 21–22.
14. FR, book II, ch. V, p. 209.
15. Richard Smith, Chinese Maps (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 43.
16. I. Iannaccone, “Matteo Ricci e l’introduzione delle scienze occidentali in Cina,” in Le Marche e l’Oriente, Atti del convegno internazionale di Studi Ricciani, Macerata, 23–26 ottobre 1996, ed. Francesco D’Arelli (Roma: Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente, 1998), p. 208.
17. Translations of Chinese maps had already been printed in Portugal in 1563.
18. FR, book II, ch. V, pp. 209–10.
19. Isaia Iannaccone, Misurare il cielo: l’antica astronomia cinese (Naples: Opera universitaria, Dipartimento di studi asiatici, Istituto Universitario Orientale, 1991), pp. 12 ff.
20. “Qing, qing” in the Pinyin system (cf. FR, book I, ch. VII).
21. I. Iannaccone, Misurare il cielo, cit., p. 35.
22. See chapter 8 (“The ‘Absurdities’ and Achievements of Chinese Astronomy”) for another Chinese cosmological theory.
23. Letter to Giulio Fuligatti, November 24, 1585; OS II, p. 66.
24. FR, book II, ch. V, p. 212.
25. See chapter 8 (“Astronomy and the Emperor”) for Chinese astronomy and the calendar in relation to imperial power.
26. See FR, book I, ch. X, pp. 108 ff, for Ricci’s description of the Chinese religions.
Chapter five
v
The Pride of Li Madou
Zhaoqing, 1585–1589
The upper classes get on with us very well and are losing their fear of foreigners. Many say that we are almost like them, which is no small thing in such a proud and inward-looking nation.1
—Matteo Ricci
The Master thought under four categories: culture, proper conduct, doing one’s utmost, and making good on one’s word.
—Confucius, Analects (7, 25)
&nb
sp; “We Have Become Chinese”: Ricci Turns into Li Madou, Xitai
It was a calm November evening. Silence reigned in the residence, and the missionaries had withdrawn to their rooms. Ricci sat at the table reading a Chinese text, now satisfied with his ability to recognize and write the characters easily and to converse with the locals and confess converts without the aid of an interpreter. He would have liked to practice writing with the brush a little longer but was too weary. It was now 1585, little more than two years since his arrival in Zhaoqing with Ruggieri, and he felt a wave of homesickness at the thought that he would never see Europe again. Missionary work was a definitive and irrevocable choice for him. He sought comfort in his loneliness by thinking back to the happy years spent at the Roman College and began a letter to the Jesuit Giulio Fuligatti, a fellow student in Rome, feeling sure that dialogue with distant friends would help him through this moment of melancholy. While writing the sentences on the paper, he realized that he was finding it increasingly difficult to use his mother tongue and made excuses for his inelegant style. Italian words were mixed up with Portuguese and Spanish expressions, with the addition every so often of epithets translated from the Chinese, as when he referred to rice, the basis of the staple diet, as “great rice,” after the local fashion. Ricci realized that his effort to adapt to Chinese customs was slowly eroding not only his ability to speak Italian correctly but also his typical Western appearance and wrote of his transformation: “As you will already know, we have become Chinese in dress, mien, ceremony, and all outward appearances.”2 The change was also accelerated when Ricci and Ruggieri took the decisive step of adopting Chinese honorifics. The locals already used a sort of phonetic transcription of their Christian names in which, as the sound of the letter R was unknown in China, Ricci became “Li” and Matteo “Madou.” Placing the surname before the given name in accordance with Chinese custom, they called the Jesuit Li Madou, the name by which he is still remembered today in China and Japan. Ruggieri in turn had become Luo Mingjian. The acceptance of these names was, however, not enough. As Wang Pan himself explained to the missionaries, it was also necessary to adopt a hao, or honorific, which Ricci called a “great name,” something indispensable in relations with literati and officials. Ricci thus took the honorific Xitai, meaning “from the Far West,” and Ruggieri Fuchu, meaning “restorer.”
While two names were sufficient for the missionaries, the upper-class Chinese adopted many more in the course of their lives. Only the surname, represented by a single character, was unchangeable, and there were fewer than one thousand of these in the entire country, all dating back to ancient times and never altered. The other names of a person, which were nearly always represented by two characters, could instead be numerous, and their choice depended on age and the circumstances in which they were used. A male baby received a “small name”3 and was also called by the number designating his position with respect to his brothers in order of birth. At the age of three months, he received the name that he would use as an adult together with the surname to sign the book of visits. Then came the “school name” used by masters and fellow pupils. Another name was received on coming of age at twenty-one,4 and those achieving a high social position would then assume a hao to be used by everyone other than their superiors. Scholars also adopted further names alluding to moral or intellectual qualities or written in rare characters, and “religious names” were taken by monks. There were fewer names for women, who were inferior in terms of social condition. In the family, they were always called by their “small name” or number in the sisters’ order of birth until they married, while outsiders could address them by their father’s surname. Once married, they received names referring to their husband’s status. Only women of high social position could receive other names to be used within the family circle.
Ricci adapted to local custom and grew used to being called Li Madou or Xitai in different social circumstances and to addressing his visitors in a manner appropriate to their rank.
Thinking back over all the changes he had undergone, he confessed to Fuligatti that he felt as though he had “become a barbarian for the love of God” in that remote and inhospitable land, which he referred to bitterly as “this sterility here.” The pain of distance was, however, accompanied by hope, and Ricci, when not overcome by homesickness, felt that he was beginning to love the country in which he now lived: “I am adapting to the land and growing as fond of it as I can.”5 The missionaries now seemed to arouse less distrust and to have been accepted by the local population. Confirmation of this came when he heard some officials say that the foreigners were not so different from them, a success in that “closed and arrogant” land of which he hastened to inform Superior General Acquaviva in a letter written in October 1585.6
The course of events during his stay in Zhaoqing gave Ricci further grounds for satisfaction. Wang Pan had been promoted to the position of superintendant of the provinces of Guangdong and Guangxi, but without being obliged to leave Zhaoqing, where he continued to protect the Jesuits. The mandarin’s wife, who had already had a daughter, finally succeeded in giving birth to the longed-for son, and Wang Pan declared that the foreigners had brought him good fortune. The final piece of good news was the appointment of the new prefect Zheng Yilin, who had let it be known that he was as well disposed toward the Jesuits as his predecessor.
In this situation of comparative peace and tranquility, the Jesuits were able to devote much of the day to their missionary work. They developed the habit of crossing the river on a sampan to visit the homes of the small shopkeepers and merchants on the other side and preach the principles of the Catholic religion. For the time being, the missionaries preferred to work among the poorer classes, where polygamy was not widespread. The less affluent, who could not afford to keep more than one wife, were monogamous by necessity and were therefore not obliged to make painful sacrifices in order to adopt a faith that would not tolerate what it regarded as an immoral practice. The preaching proved moderately successful in this sphere, even though it is hard to believe that the peasants and small shopkeepers could ever fulfill Ricci’s hopes and truly understand the underlying doctrinal principles of Catholicism, something that did not happen even in Europe. In the Jesuit’s opinion, the new converts simply believed that they would obtain more comfort and understanding from the righteous and generous Jesuits than from Buddhist or Taoist monks. One day the missionary was invited into the home of an elderly recent convert and was asked to baptize his wife and daughter, a request that surprised him, as the women had always remained hidden in their rooms during his repeated visits. The old man demonstrated his gratitude by consigning some books on Buddhist doctrine and some statuettes of divinities he kept in the house to Ricci for destruction. The previous year had brought twenty new converts7—not a great number, but enough to convince the religious and political authorities on whom the missionaries depended that it was possible to spread the Gospel in China.
The Failure of the Idea of a
Spanish Embassy to the Chinese Emperor
In view of the initial successes, the Spanish authorities in the Philippines reported to their government that the Chinese empire had opened its borders to the Jesuit missions and that the situation looked promising. This gave rise in 1584 to the idea of organizing an embassy from Philip II of Spain to the emperor to request that missionaries be granted free access to the whole of Chinese territory. The governor of the Philippines and the archbishop of Manila sent an emissary to Macao with new funds for the China mission and letters asking the Jesuits to obtain the necessary permits for the entry of the Spanish ambassadors. There was already talk of the gifts planned for the Son of Heaven: horses, gold, precious fabrics, swords, oil paintings, mirrors, crystal prisms, clocks, and jars of wine made from grapes, for a total value of at least seventy thousand ducats.8
Francisco Cabral, the Jesuit rector in Macao and superior of the China mission, wrote to Ricci and Ruggieri, a
lready chosen as official interpreters of the embassy, asking them to have the governor of Guangdong issue the indispensable permits required for the entrance of the Spanish embassy. Wang Pan raised no objections and thought indeed that it was an excellent idea, as he himself would no longer have anything to fear for allowing foreigners to stay on Chinese soil if the emperor received a Spanish delegation.
The request that Ricci and Ruggieri submitted to the governor was approved and forwarded to the haidao, but the Portuguese authorities in Macao opposed the initiative, suspecting that the offer to help the Jesuits masked the aim of seizing control of the immense Chinese market. Spain was indeed already planning to establish a commercial outpost in the Guangdong province, and the Portuguese knew that an influx of Spanish silver from South America into the markets of Canton would lead to a rise in the prices of Chinese products, with disastrous consequences for their trade.
In light of these considerations, the authorities in Macao were resolutely opposed to the embassy and claimed that Spain’s initiative violated the still valid agreements, codified in the papal bull of 1514, reached on the succession of the Spanish sovereign to the throne of Portugal, which retained its exclusive rights to trade with China. While the question was under discussion, the haidao resolved matters by refusing to allow the Spanish delegation into the country. The presence of missionaries in Zhaoqing was already more than enough, and no other foreigner would be permitted to enter the Da Ming empire, not even as an ambassador.
Matteo Ricci Page 10