At this the eunuch stormed out, threatening to meet words with action, leaving the missionaries, at least momentarily, in the hands of the mandarins.
Presently Ricci, accompanied by Pantoja, was led in to the tribunal and made to kneel down, a humiliation he had not suffered for many years. Ts’ai complained first that Ricci had presented his gifts through the eunuchs, and secondly that he had not reported to the office of foreign embassies. Ricci was prepared and answered without hesitation, “The eunuch Ma T’ang stopped us forcibly on the way to Peking and took charge of the matter, giving us to understand that he was acting legally. As for visiting your office, since the day of our arrival we have been busy in the palace, at His Majesty’s command, and our house has been guarded, making official visits impossible. Moreover, no one informed us that I was subject to your department. I have been living in the Middle Kingdom for almost twenty years; I travel widely and have already visited Peking three years ago. Indeed, although a foreigner by birth, I consider myself a citizen of the Middle Kingdom.”
This appeared to soothe the director. “You have acted in good faith,” he said, “and you evidently feel no more sympathy for the eunuchs than I. I shall present a memorial to the Emperor and arrange for the whole affair to be transferred to my department. Meanwhile, I cannot leave you in charge of the eunuchs. You and your servants must come and live in the Castle of Barbarians, where all foreign embassies are lodged. You will be guests of the Government, and provided with food.”
Ricci would have preferred not to limit his freedom, but Ts’ai insisted that only by entering the Castle would he fall, without challenge, under the Ministry’s jurisdiction.
He and Pantoja were escorted through the streets, while guards went to fetch the rest of the party and their baggage. The Castle proved to be a large group of buildings, surrounded by high walls and locked gates. The bare rooms, without doors, chairs, benches or beds, more fit for beasts than men, recalled the palace of the Siamese Ambassadors at Canton. They discovered that no one was allowed out except to visit the governor of the castle or to pay homage to the Emperor, while only privileged officials had the right to enter. As barbarian tribute-bearers they were not guests but prisoners.
The Castle was crowded with uncouth, raucous figures of every colour and physiognomy, in turbans, marmot toques and gilt-quilled helmets, a bazaar of Asiatic peoples speaking a babel of tongues. Ricci met men from Korea, Cochin-China, Siam, Burma, Formosa, from the Tartar tribes, from Tibet, Mongolia and the Moslem countries of Turkestan, some of the embassies, together with servants, numbering over a thousand men. The Mohammedans interested Ricci most. They came from far Kashgar and had heard of Italy, Venice, Spain, Portugal and consequently of Christianity. They brought a small quantity of jade to the Emperor, a stone highly prized in China, where it was carved by means of abrasive quartz sand. But their main source of profit was rhubarb, bought cheap in Kansu, where it grew abundantly, and sold dear in Peking. With their profits they bought Chinese silk.
Ricci decided to question these merchants about Cathay, a country which still excited his curiosity. On his first visit to Peking he had arranged for Brother Sebastian to call on one of two Mohammedans who had arrived in the capital forty years previously from Arabia to present the Emperor with a lion, an animal which the Chinese knew to exist but had seldom seen. This Arabian had referred to China as Khitai, a name which Ricci had considered sufficiently similar to Cathay to warrant amplifying his theory, first suggested by the bridges of Nanking, and to assume that Polo had somehow been writing about China under the name of Cathay. The Mohammedans in the Castle now confirmed that they and their countrymen called the Middle Kingdom Khitai and added that they knew its capital under the name of Cambaluc. This strengthened Ricci in his belief, but he refused to jump to conclusions. The Mohammedans’ Chinese was scanty, and their terms might be general ones, which they would apply to any large kingdom and city. One day perhaps it would be possible to put the matter to a final proof.
Even more curious than the merchant ambassadors were their presents. Instead of the exotic finery Ricci expected, suitable to the mightiest monarch on earth, many brought pieces of iron which, with handles of wood cut in the Castle grounds, would be presented as curious swords. What they called cuirasses were pieces of metal tied together with lengths of tow. Others had drooping pack horses—mere skin and bones after the long journey—which would be offered as steeds of Araby.
Gradually Ricci unknotted the explanation. These embassies originated with the vanity of one of the greatest Ming emperors. Wishing to make known the supremacy of China, Yung Lo, some two centuries past, had sent legates all over Asia inviting foreigners to pay homage at Peking, the new capital. The response was immediate and enthusiastic. From every country, small and large, came merchants, under the guise of ambassadors, bent on clandestine trading with a country normally closed to foreigners. In order to justify their large numbers, they explained that to the west of China lay over a hundred and fifty kingdoms all desirous of rendering homage. Their beasts of burden carried valuable merchandise which they sold at Peking; their tribute, a mere pretext, was of no value, yet the Emperor, as befitted so great a lord, was obliged to spend over fifty thousand taels annually on presents for the “ambassadors.” Their journey in China, under the strictest surveillance, was paid for by the Government, and they were given free food and lodging. The mandarins knew exactly what was happening, but for several reasons let the farce continue. The trade with foreign countries benefited China; they dared not interfere with a plan which flattered the Emperor’s vanity; they feared to offend the merchants, lest they either foment rebellion within or wage war from without; and lastly, they were able to embezzle money intended for the foreigners’ expenses.
Ts’ai, the director of foreign embassies, was also Governor of the Castle. Having heard his friends speak highly of Ricci and seeing for himself that the graduate preachers were very different from merchant-ambassadors, he arranged that Ricci and Pantoja should receive preferential treatment: they were assigned rooms normally used by mandarins, with beds, palliasses and silk coverlets, not mouldering and filthy like the rest of the accommodation, but perfectly new. A room was set apart which they used as a chapel for Mass. When he saw that Ricci received visits from high-ranking officials, Ts’ai went a stage further, and invited the Westerners to take meals with him in his private suite, an absolutely unprecedented event, the foreign “ambassadors” being treated like freaks, with utmost scorn. In return, discovering that Ts’ai had passed his doctorate and was interested in mathematics, Ricci gave him spheres, quadrants and a globe of the heavens.
After a few days at the Castle, towards the end of February, Ricci and Pantoja were informed that they had been granted an audience to pay the Emperor homage. Past disappointments crumbled before a neap-tide of hope. If the word “audience” has any meaning, Ricci thought, we will see Wan Li at last, perhaps even be permitted to speak to him. Anxiously and impatiently they awaited the great day, discussing how they could best use the coveted moments of communication.
Rehearsed to perfection in the kowtow and other ritual actions, at five of a dark, frosty morning they and other ambassadors were escorted to the southern gate, wearing clothes of red damask and helmets of silver covered with gilt. All carried ivory tablets some three inches wide and eight inches long, with which to cover their mouths when speaking the words of homage, for their mortal breath must not attain the Emperor. They waited by the triple archway while all Peking slept under the melting stars.
At dawn precisely the five elephants which guarded the southern gate were ridden away like night and the ambassadors ushered through the Gates of Supreme Harmony and Heavenly Purity into the vast courtyard of the Throne Hall of Assured Peace, within the fourth wall, its yellow glazed tiles flushed rose-red. It was a dawn ceremony: their dress had been designed to mark the fact. Round the courtyard were grouped pavilions, their decorated beams and brackets painted green, blue and wh
ite. At the north end, approached by three flights of white marble stairs carved with dragons in high relief, stood an open-sided arcade landscaped with painted screens, in the centre of which, between four emblazoned columns, was raised the dragon throne. Behind ran a balcony with a slatted blind: here, Ricci had been told, the Emperor might appear, wearing, to hide his face, a crown from which hung long pendants of pearls and gems. He too would be holding a tablet fashioned of precious stones to contain his breath.
As the first rays of light slanted across the low roofs into the courtyard, the assembly joined their homage to that of the rising sun. The cosmic rite began. An official called out in a high voice, “Kneel down,” and all present knelt. At another command, one party rose, moved forward and bowed down to the empty throne, beating the floor with their heads and calling out “Ten thousand years,” a salutation of long life reserved for the Emperor alone. To dramatise and protract the homage, first one group performed it, then another. Grumbling at having been woken so early, the jade-merchants stumbled forward and clumsily kowtowed, then the tributary Siamese, their praise as empty as the throne. Ricci kept his eye on the balcony but not a shadow passed the slatted screen. Finally it was his turn. He rose, approached the throne and prostrated himself. Shielding his mouth with the piece of ivory, he exclaimed “Ten thousand years.” The pavilions caught and echoed his words, but Wan Li neither appeared nor answered. Heaven could not acknowledge the things of earth. The hollow silence which followed was the measure of his humiliation, kneeling there in the cold dawn. He had stormed Peking, the forbidden city, the imperial apartments, the dragon throne, only to confront this void, gaping as a Good Friday tabernacle.
As he walked backwards to his place and later down the immense courtyards to the southern gate, the scene tilted towards lunacy. What was he doing here, under the sign of the dragon, vested in red damask and gilt helmet? How absurd, how presumptuous to have dreamed of converting the Emperor! Every event since his arrival in China should have made clear the futility of such an attempt. Always it was he who had given the love, made the overtures and sacrifices—only to be ignored. China simply did not care. Rejection, persecution, bloodshed would have been easier to bear because ultimately fruitful—but empty failure would not fertilise the future. Before this latest blank unrecognising stare he felt desperate, crushed, almost annihilated.
Back in the Castle, however, during the next few days his natural resilience and courage slowly began to reassert themselves. The truths which had triumphed within the Forbidden City were displaced by another, more fundamental: the undertaking on which he had embarked was not merely human. He was beginning, also, to recognise a pattern in his life, that failure preluded success. As the mists of despair dispersed, he set to work revising his plans. The Emperor might be under the control of favourites, but his word still had the force of law. Since he chose to be invisible he must be approached by letter and, apart from eunuchs, the only persons who could submit memorials with any likelihood of success were Ministers. Without delay Ricci went to the Ministry of Rites, where he saw the acting Minister. He was growing accustomed to find deputies in charge, for a mandarin, when he received news of the death of his father or mother, at once returned home to assume mourning for three years, during which time he exercised no official duties.
The acting Minister promised to submit a memorial in Ricci’s favour and later sent secretaries to make an inventory of the foreigners’ belongings and to question them about their intentions. Ricci replied in writing, going beyond what he had said before, because he realised that if they were classified as foreigners bringing presents, on the completion of their business they would be escorted from the country no less surely than if they still remained in Ma T’ang’s hands. He wrote, “We have come to preach the law of the Lord of Heaven in the Middle Kingdom by command of our superiors, and to Peking in order to offer gifts to His Majesty in gratitude for having been allowed to remain so many years in his country. We desire no office, nor a return for our presents: only permission to remain as before in the Middle Kingdom, either in Peking or in some other city that His Majesty may designate.”
The acting Minister of Rites sent to ask what doctrine they taught. In reply Ricci offered him a fine breviary and a manuscript of his catechism. The former he returned, the latter he kept for reference. Then the acting Minister submitted an important memorial to the Emperor in these terms: “Li Ma-tou claims to be a man of the Far West, but in the collection of official documents of the Ming Dynasty there is no mention of such a place, therefore it is impossible to know whether he is telling the truth. Since he comes to offer tribute after a twenty years’ stay in the Middle Kingdom, the law which prescribes good treatment for whosoever ‘comes from far countries, a lover of justice, to offer rare gifts’ is inapplicable. Moreover the gifts he offers, far from being rare, are mere trifles: two pictures of the Lord of Heaven and the Mother of the Lord of Heaven. In his personal baggage he has what he claims are bones of genies, but since genies are incorporeal, how could they have bones? In this connection what the noted writer Han Yü has said of the joints of the Buddha’s finger is appropriate: ‘It is improper that a dirty and inauspicious piece of refuse should be allowed within the palace precincts.’ More serious still, these gifts have been presented to Your Majesty without passing through my Ministry. They were offered by the eunuch Ma T’ang, who must surely be held guilty of interference with the Government. I beg that in accordance with the value of the gifts and according to the usual practice, Li Ma-tou may be given a hat and belt, as well as a number of pieces of silk, with orders to return immediately to his own country. He should not be allowed to remain either in Nanking or in Peking lest, entering into relations with the eunuchs, he stir up rebellion of the people.”
The acting Minister of Rites had decided that Ricci’s interests must be sacrificed to a graduate victory over the eunuchs, but he had reckoned on the Emperor’s neutrality. In fact, the Emperor had been so favourably impressed by the gifts that he was only too willing to listen to his eunuchs’ interpretation of events. Learning that Ricci and his party had been shut up in the Castle of Barbarians, he became furious and cried, “Are they robbers to be seized in this way? Let us see what the director of embassies does next!” He put the memorial aside and refused to issue a directive.
As days passed and no rescript came, the acting Minister of Rites and his colleagues grew anxious, for the imperial silence connoted anger and possibly the direst consequences. They believed Ricci had made his eunuch friends in the palace dismiss the memorial in order to avenge himself for being taken to the Castle. This, they were beginning to realise, was a discourtesy to someone who had lived twenty years in China.
Meanwhile his friends, among them high mandarins, continued to visit Ricci in the Castle; others came out of curiosity and asked him to return their visits. Impressed by Ricci’s learning and manner, one and all protested that it was shameful for him to be classified and shut up with ignorant “merchant ambassadors.” In response to mandarin opinion, the acting Minister of Rites began to treat Ricci more favourably. “Tell your eunuch friends,” he said, “to let His Majesty answer my memorial, and I shall obtain all the concessions you wish.” Ricci protested that he was not intriguing, but the mandarin could not believe this.
Supposing that the Westerner was holding out for favours, he and Ts’ai, the Governor, began to win Ricci’s goodwill. Contrary to regulations, he was allowed to go out of the Castle into any part of Peking. Four guards, under the name of grooms, were detailed to walk behind his horse to prevent escape. These grooms reported to the Governor that Ricci visited such important officials as the Secretary to the Ministry of Civil Appointments, with whom he would stay upwards of three or four hours. Alarmed at this and still receiving no rescript from the palace, the Governor of the Castle and others in his department feared that mandarins no less than eunuchs were being rallied against the Ministry of Rites. In April they decided to trim their sails to th
e wind. They sent a memorial quite different from the first: it made no mention of the eunuchs; instead of maligning the Europeans, it praised them for having come so courteously in person to present gifts at the imperial court, and proposed that recompense should be paid on a more handsome scale. Ricci was provided with a copy of the text, whereas on the former occasion the Governor had tried—though unsuccessfully—to keep the memorial from him. A week passed and this memorial, too, remained unanswered. All Peking was alarmed at this expression of semi-divine wrath.
One possible explanation Ricci learned from the eunuchs. The Emperor, they said, actually wanted the missionaries to remain in Peking, but did not dare propose it, contrary to all precedent, unless the plan was first put forward by the Ministry of Rites. A break with tradition was the earthly equivalent of a falling star, a disturbance of cosmic order. Ricci urged the Governor to send another memorial, proposing that they remain in the capital, but this he obstinately refused to do. If foreigners were allowed to live wherever they liked in Peking, clearly the Castle of Barbarians and his own office would fall into abeyance.
The college of mathematicians on the other hand, terrified lest the clocks should stop or go irreparably wrong, used all their influence in the opposite direction. The Emperor was passionately attached to the small clock and if by any chance it failed to strike became furious with the eunuchs. When the Empress Mother expressed a desire to see it, the Emperor, afraid she would take his treasure from him, waited for it to run down, then commanded the eunuchs to carry it to her apartments without being rewound. After a few days, when she saw that it did not strike, she returned it, saying “I thought it was a clock which struck by itself.”
Three more memorials were sent from the Castle to the imperial presence, each more favourable to the missionaries, but always without the clause asking that they should remain permanently in Peking. Still no word came from the dragon throne. Explanations differed. Pantoja thought the Emperor was unwilling that they should return and spread news of the imperial palace; Ricci accepted the eunuchs’ view that he dared not make a new precedent. Whatever the reason, the issue dragged on, undecided, into May, while Ricci urged his friends to secure their release, for missionary work was impossible in the Castle. They had already lost three months of valuable time and acquired the reputation of merchants, almost as offensive to graduates as the title of bonze. Mohammedans in the Castle declared escape hopeless, but they underestimated Ricci’s perseverance and charm of manner, which made others play up to his own heroism. Finally he persuaded his most influential friend, a doctor of letters aged forty-seven, Secretary to the Ministry of Civil Appointments, to demand his release. This fearless official, who did not hesitate to accuse the Ministers of War at Peking and Nanking of corruption, bringing about the resignation of both, was already an admirer of Ricci’s book on Friendship and had several times visited the Far Westerner on his arrival in Peking.
Wise Man Of The West (Harvill Press Editions) Page 19
