THE FOREIGN MISSIONS
Nowhere, perhaps, is the conflict of evidence so sharp in regard to the Jesuits as when we turn to consider their activity outside of Europe. On the one hand we have the Edifying Letters which the missionaries themselves sent to their Roman authorities for publication in Europe. From these letters the apologetic writers construct a picture of the most charming devotion and spiritual success; we are invited to see thousands of Jesuits breaking every home-tie in order to carry the gospel of Christ across seas infested with Dutch and English enemies, to lands whence only one in a hundred will return, and where the tooth of the serpent, the poison of the tropics, or the knife of the savage awaits them; we are told how they advance unarmed into the forests, and fierce tribes surrender to the feeble symbol of the crucifix, how they charm the jealous monarchs of the east with their vast learning and open to other missionaries doors which had been closed against them for centuries, how from the rawest savage material they make ideal republics such as Plato had despaired of making out of the enlightened Athenians.
From the other side we learn that these Edifying Letters, which so plainly announce their purpose, are "pious lies"; that they wilfully exaggerate conversions and martyrdoms, and convey a wholly false picture of Jesuit activity; that the Jesuits are engaged in a vast commercial activity all over the globe, are utterly unscrupulous in protecting their monopolies and in accumulating wealth, and make the most scandalous concessions to paganism in order to obtain numbers and influence. These things, moreover, are said by Catholic priests and prelates, not by jealous merchants and free-thinking politicians. Prelates of indisputable sanctity send to Europe the sternest and gravest charges against the Jesuits, and declare that they have been subjected by the Society to the most virulent and unprincipled persecution. We have therefore to make our way here with extreme prudence. Fortunately, many of the charges against the Jesuits receive serious consideration at Rome, and from the evidence which is submitted to, and generally endorsed by, the Roman tribunals, the historian is at times enabled to reach a confident verdict. Let us begin our survey with the action of the Jesuits in the far east.
At the beginning of the period we are considering Japan is closed against the Christian missionaries, and all the blood that has been shed on its soil proves sterile. We saw that the emperors had at length determined to extirpate the new religion, and a final revolt of the surviving Christians in 1638 led to the completing of the work of destruction. One or two Jesuits afterwards penetrated the country, in the disguise of merchants, but they were arrested or forced to leave. The artful Japanese devised a test of faith which should have defeated the zeal of the missionary; every European immigrant had to spit or trample on the crucifix before landing. It is said by a serious authority, one of the General Commandants of the French East India Company (Martin, of Pondicherry), that the Jesuits found a casuistic way out of this difficulty and insulted the crucifix; they were, they said, merely regarding it as a piece of wood and metal. However that may be, the last Jesuit—an apostate who repented—was executed there in 1652, and the fathers of the "Japanese Province" were scattered over the other eastern missions.
China had, in the meantime, become a most attractive field of labour. It will be remembered that the Jesuit Ricci had at last found a way to penetrate the Chinese defences; he had concealed his religion, dressed as a Chinese scholar, and won great prestige as a mathematician and astronomer. He had obtained great influence at the court, and other Jesuits had followed his example. Their services to the court were rewarded with permission to preach their doctrines in the provinces, but this work was often checked by local persecution, and the Jesuits directed their chief efforts to the court and the educated class. The tradition started by Ricci was maintained and developed, and a very strange group of missionaries gathered about the emperor. Chief amongst them was Father Adam Schall, a very able mathematician and intimate friend of the emperor. He could cast horoscopes, found cannon, admire the works of Kung-fu-tse, and behave in every way as a Chinese gentleman. He found a substantial agreement between educated Chinese religion and Christianity—especially by keeping the crucifix out of sight—and genially sanctioned the worship of "Heaven," the veneration of Kung-fu-tse, and the cult of ancestors. The educated Chinaman is, as we know to-day, an Agnostic, and he concluded that the Jesuit was an almost equally liberal interpreter of popular superstitions. He therefore welcomed these western gentlemen who could read the stars, make fancy clocks, found cannon, direct armies, and paint pictures better than the native scholar.
The Jesuits had previously helped the Chinese to repel the Tartars, but a more formidable invasion occurred in 1636, and, to be quite safe, they divided their forces. Schall joined the Tartars at Peking and read in the stars that they would conquer; some of his colleagues remained with the threatened dynasty, declared that the stars were in their favour, and induced some members of the royal family to accept baptism. The Tartars won, the opposing Jesuits were recalled, and Schall passed into the confidence of the new emperor. He became a mandarin of the first class and president of the tribunal of imperial mathematics. He dressed in gorgeous silks, and his palanquin, borne by twelve servants, was attended by a strong body-guard with the usual Chinese symbols; also—if we believe the missionary Sala, as seems reasonable—his beautiful palace contained two charming Chinese ladies and, in the course of time, two children. But the emperor died ten years later, a persecution was initiated, and Father Schall died lamentably in prison in 1666. All the Jesuits—nineteen in number—were imprisoned, and their 151 churches were closed or destroyed.
In 1669 the young Emperor Kang Hi, son of the Tartar conqueror, attained his majority and released the Jesuits. Father Verbiest took the place of Father Schall, and as his military services enabled the emperor to quell an insurrection, he obtained permission to summon fresh "mathematicians" from the west. France was now the great expanding Power in Europe, and the new field, with its prospect of a monopoly of commerce, was secured for Louis XIV. Six learned French Jesuits arrived in 1688, and from that time until the end of the century they grew in power and wealth. As artists, astrologers, or mechanicians the priests made themselves indispensable at court, and the lay-brothers brought western skill in medicine and surgery. One of them received 200,000 francs' worth of gold for curing the emperor. They also imported clocks, wine, and other western products, and, from merely approving, they passed on to an active share in the great Chinese industry of lending money at a profit, which was then sternly condemned by their Church. The rival Catholic missionaries reported that the three Jesuit houses at Peking made 80,000 francs a year by usury; though the Jesuits protested that they did not charge more than twenty-four per cent. Father Gerbillon was now head of the mathematical tribunal and diplomatic agent on Russian affairs. Father Martini was the military expert, and, as a mandarin of the first order, exhibited a dragon on his fine silk robe.
There was one very serious thorn in the side of these prosperous Jesuits. Dominican, Franciscan, and other missionaries had followed them into the country, and were expressing the most cordial abhorrence of their procedure. Their arrogance, their unpriestly occupations, and their commerce and usury were bad enough, but they were not even preaching the Gospel. They suppressed the doctrine of the Redemption, did not anoint dying women (out of concession to Chinese delicacy), and permitted their converts to join in the rites of the old Chinese religion. The Dominicans and Franciscans disturbed their profitable policy by thrusting the crucifix before the eyes of the amazed Chinese, and there were fierce wrangles. The friars appealed to Rome, and in 1645 the Propaganda condemned the Jesuit concessions. The Jesuits ignored the condemnation, on the ground that it was issued on false information, and sent Mandarin Martini to Rome. Martini unblushingly asserted that the rites they permitted were purely civil in character, and he was able to return with an authorisation of their practices. But the Dominicans sent a fresh envoy to Rome, and, in the meantime, the terrible Jansenist Arnauld had learned the facts and was holding up the Jesuits to the ridicule of Europe.