On a high ground, near the city and the port, in front of the Jesuitsʼ church, these 26 persons were crucified and stabbed to death with lances, in expiation of their political offences. It was a sad fate for men who conscientiously believed that they were justified in violating rights and laws of nations for the propagation of their particular views; but can one complain? Would Buddhist missionaries in Spain have met with milder treatment at the hands of the Inquisitors?[4]
Each Catholic body was supposed to designate the same road to heaven—each professed to teach the same means of obtaining the grace of God; yet, strange to say, each bore the other an implacable hatred—an inextinguishable jealousy! If conversion to Christianity were for the glory of God only, what could it have mattered whether souls of Japanese were saved by Jesuits or by others? For King Philip it was the same whether his political tools were of one denomination or the other, but many of the Jesuits in Japan happened to be Portuguese.
The Jesuits in Manila probably felt that in view of their opposition to the Franciscan missions, public opinion might hold them morally responsible for indirectly contributing to the unfortunate events related; therefore, to justify their acts, they formally declared that Pedro Bautista and his followers died excommunicated, because they had disobeyed the Bull of Pope Gregory XIII.
The general public were much excited when the news spread through the city, and a special Mass was said, followed by a religious procession through the streets. The Governor sent a commission to Japan, under the control of Luis de Navarrete, to ask for the dead bodies and chattels of the executed priests. The Emperor showed no rancour whatsoever; on the contrary, his policy was already carried out; and to welcome the Spanish lay deputies, he gave a magnificent banquet and entertained them sumptuously. Luis de Navarrete having claimed the dead bodies of the priests, the Emperor at once ordered the guards on the execution ground to retire, and told Navarrete that he could dispose as he pleased of the mortal remains. Navarrete therefore hastened to Nagasaki, but before he could reach there, devout Catholics had cut up the bodies, one carrying away a head, another a leg, and so forth. It happened, too, that Navarrete died of disease a few days after his arrival in Nagasaki. His successor, Diego de Losa, recovered the pieces of the deceased priests, which he put into a box and shipped for Manila, but the vessel and box of relics were lost on the way.
Diego de Losa returned to Manila, the bearer of a polite letter and very acceptable presents from the Emperor to the Governor of the Philippines.
The letter fully expatiated on recent events, and set forth a well-reasoned justification of the Emperorʼs decrees against the priests, in terms which proved that he was neither a tyrant nor a wanton savage, but an astute politician. The letter stated, that under the pretext of being ambassadors, the priests in question had come into the country and had taught a diabolical law belonging to foreign countries, and which aimed at superseding the rites and laws of his own religion, confused his people, and destroyed his Government and kingdom; for which reason he had rigorously proscribed it. Against these prohibitions, the religious men of Luzon preached their law publicly to humble people, such as servants and slaves. Not being able to permit this persistence in law-breaking, he had ordered their death by placing them on crosses; for he was informed that in the kingdom where Spaniards dominated, this teaching of their religious doctrine was but an artifice and stratagem by means of which the civil power was deceitfully gained. He astutely asks the Gov.-General if he would consent to Japanese preaching their laws in his territory, perturbing public peace with such novelties amongst the lower classes?
Certainly it would be severely repressed, argued the Emperor, adding that in the exercise of his absolute power and for the good of his subjects, he had avoided the occurrence in his dominions of what had taken place in those regions where the Spaniards deposed the legitimate kings, and constituted themselves masters by religious fraud.
He explains that the seizure of the cargo of a Spanish ship was only a reprisal for the harm which he had suffered by the tumult raised when the edict was evaded. But as the Spanish Governor had thought fit to send another ambassador from so far, risking the perils of the sea, he was anxious for peace and mutual good-feeling, but only on the precise condition that no more individuals should be sent to teach a law foreign to his realm, and under these unalterable conditions the Governorʼs subjects were at liberty to trade freely with Japan; that by reason of his former friendship and royal clemency, he had refrained from killing all the Spaniards with the priests and their servants, and had allowed them to return to their country.
As to religion itself, Taycosama is said to have remarked that among so many professed, one more was of little consequence,—hence his toleration in the beginning, and his continued permission to the Jesuits to maintain their doctrines amongst their own sectarians. Moreover, it is said that a map was shown to Taycosama, marking the domains of the King of Spain and Portugal, and that in reply to his inquiry: “How could one man have conquered such vast territory?”—a certain Father Guzman (probably a Portuguese) answered: “By secretly sending religious men to teach their doctrine, and when a sufficient number of persons were so converted, the Spanish soldiery, with their aid, annexed their country and overthrew their kings.” Such an avowal naturally impressed Taycosama profoundly.[5]
In Seville there was quite a tumult when the details of the executions in Japan were published.