The Gist of Japan: The Islands, Their People, and Missions

by R. B. Peery

In open violation of the edict, four Franciscan priests came to Kyoto in 1593 with a Spanish envoy. They were allowed to build houses and reside there on the express condition that they were not to preach or teach, either publicly or privately. Immediately violating their pledge, they began preaching openly in the streets, wearing the vestments of their order. They excited a great deal of discord among the Jesuit congregations and used most violent language. Hideyoshi was angered at this,—as he had good reason to be,—and caused nine preachers to be seized while they were building chapels in Osaka and Kyoto, and condemned to death. These, together with three Portuguese Jesuits, six Spanish Franciscans, and seventeen native Christians, were crucified on bamboo crosses in Nagasaki, February 5, 1597. They were put to death, not as Christians, but as law-breakers and political conspirators.

Hideyoshi was further confirmed in his opinion that these foreign priests had political designs by the remark of a Spanish sea-captain who showed him a map of the world, on which the vast dominions of the King of Spain were clearly marked, and who, in reply to the question as to how his master came by such wide territories, foolishly replied that he first sent priests to win over the people, then soldiers to coöperate with the native converts, and the conquest was easy. Hideyoshi's fears were not entirely ungrounded. The truth is that Catholic Christianity has always been, and was especially at that time, so intimately connected with the state that her emissaries could not keep from entangling themselves in politics.

Hideyoshi died in 1597, and with the death of their persecutor the missionaries again took heart and began their work anew. The political successor of Hideyoshi was Iyeyasu—a man even greater, perhaps, than his predecessor. He was not permitted to assume direction of affairs without a fierce and bloody struggle. Around the capital 200,000 soldiers were gathered under ambitious rival leaders. Soon the camps were divided into two factions, the northern soldiers under Iyeyasu, and the southern soldiers under their own daimios. Most of the Christians were naturally allied with the latter party. Believing Iyeyasu to be a usurper, the Christian generals arrayed themselves against him and went forth to meet him in the open field. On the field of Sekigahara a bloody battle was fought, and 10,000 men lost their lives. The Christians were beaten, and were dealt with after the custom of the time—their heads were stricken off. Iyeyasu, finding himself in undisputed possession of the reins of government, began at once the completion of the work of Hideyoshi, i.e., the creation of a strong central government and the subjugation of the several daimios. Henceforth the Christians had to deal with this central government instead of the petty local ones.

Systematic persecutions were now begun in the different provinces, culminating in the year 1606, when Iyeyasu issued his famous edict prohibiting Christianity. At this time there were more than 1,000,000 Christians in Japan. An outward show of obedience warded off active persecution for a few years, when the Franciscan friars again aroused the wrath of the government by openly violating the laws and exhorting their converts to do likewise. In 1611 Iyeyasu is reported to have discovered documentary evidence of the existence of a plot on the part of the native Christians and the foreign emissaries to overthrow the government and reduce Japan to the position of a subject state. Taking advantage of the opportunity thus afforded, he determined to utterly extirpate Christianity from his dominions. January 27, 1614, he issued the famous edict in which he branded the Jesuit missionaries as triple enemies—as enemies of the gods, of Japan, and of the buddhas. Desiring to avoid so much bloodshed, if possible, he tried the plan of transportation. Three hundred persons—Franciscans, Jesuits, Dominicans, Augustinians, and natives—were shipped from Nagasaki to Macao. But many priests concealed themselves and were overlooked. The native Christians refused to renounce their faith. It was evident that the end was not yet. The Christians were sympathizers with Hideyori, who had been a rival claimant with Iyeyasu for the shogunate, and whose castle in Osaka was the greatest stronghold in the empire. In this castle Hideyori gave shelter to some Christians, and Iyeyasu called out a great army and laid siege to it. The war which followed was very brief, but, if the report of the Jesuits is to be relied upon, 100,000 men perished. The castle finally fell, and with it the cause of the Christians. Hidetada, the next shogun, now pronounced sentence of death upon every foreigner, whether priest or catechist, found in the country. All native converts who refused to renounce their faith were likewise sentenced to death. The story of the persecutions that followed is too horrible to be described. Fire and sword were freely used to extirpate Christianity. Converts were wrapped in straw sacks, piled in heaps of living fuel, and then set on fire. Many were burned with fires made from the crosses before which they were accustomed to bow. Some were buried alive. All the tortures that barbaric cruelty could invent were freely used to rid the land of them. The calmness and fortitude with which they bore their lot, gladly dying for their faith, command our warmest admiration. The power of our religion to uphold and sustain even in the midst of torture was never more strikingly illustrated, and the ancient Roman world produced no more willing martyrs than did Japan at this time.

At last even the patient, uncomplaining Japanese Christians could stand it no longer. Persecuted until desperate, those who remained finally arose in rebellion, seized and fortified the old castle of Shimabara, and resolved to die rather than submit. The rebelling party probably numbered about 30,000, and there was not one foreigner among them. A veteran army, led by skilled commanders, was sent against the rebels, and after a stubborn resistance of four months the castle was taken. Men, women, and children—all were slaughtered. There is an old story to the effect that many of them were thrown from the rock of Pappenburg into the sea; but it lacks confirmation and doubtless is only a myth. It has also been charged against the Protestant Hollanders then resident in Nagasaki that they assisted in the overthrow of the Shimabara castle and the destruction of the Catholics with their heavy guns, but this probably is untrue.

There was now left no power to resist, and the sword, fire, and banishment swept away every trace of Christianity. The extermination appeared so complete that non-Christian writers have pointed to Japan as a land in which Christianity had been entirely conquered by the sword, thus proving that it could be extirpated. But the extirpation was not so thorough as at first appeared. Christian converts remained, and assembled regularly for worship; but the utmost secrecy was observed, for fear of the authorities. When the country was reopened in 1859, the Catholic fathers found remaining in and around Nagasaki whole villages of Christians, holding their faith in secret, it is true, but still holding it. During the two hundred years in which they had been left alone the faith had become corrupt, but there were still thousands of people who, amid much ignorance, worshiped the true God and refused to bow at pagan shrines. Christianity was not entirely crushed, neither can be, by the secular arm.

After the government had, as it fondly supposed, entirely suppressed the hated foreign religion, in order to prevent its return it determined upon the most rigid system of exclusiveness ever practised by any nation. The means of communication with the outer world were all cut off; all ships above a certain size were destroyed, and the building of others large enough to visit foreign lands rigidly prohibited; Japanese were forbidden to travel abroad on pain of death; native shipwrecked sailors who had been driven to other lands were not permitted to return to their own country, lest they should carry the dreaded religion back with them; and all foreigners found on Japanese territory were executed. Over all the empire the most rigid prohibitions of Christianity were posted. The high-sounding text of one of them was as follows: "So long as the sun shall continue to warm the earth, let no Christian be so bold as to come to Japan; and let all know that the King of Spain himself, or the Christians' god, or the great God of all, if He dare violate this command, shall pay for it with His head." These prohibitions could still be seen along the highways as late as 1872.

During this period of exclusion the only means of communication with the outside world was through the Dutch, a small colony of whom were permitted to reside in Nagasaki as a sort of safety-valve and a means of communication with the outside world when such communication became absolutely necessary. They enjoyed the confidence of Japan more than any other nation. These Hollanders were compelled to live on the narrow little island of Desima, in Nagasaki harbor, always under strict surveillance. Ships from Holland were permitted to visit them occasionally, and they carried on a very lucrative trade between the two countries.

The mistake of Catholic Christianity in Japan during the century the history of which we have been reciting was its meddling in politics and getting itself entangled in the internal affairs of the country. If it had avoided politics and been at peace and harmony with itself, it might have enjoyed continued prosperity, and Japan to-day might have been one of the brightest stars in the pope's crown.