Meantime the Jesuits had not forgotten Francis Xavier's dream about China. The Dominican Gaspar de la Cruz had found his way through its closed gates, four years after Xavier expired on the island opposite Canton, but he was promptly expelled. It was only in 1581, fully thirty-six years subsequent to the attempt of de la Cruz, that the Jesuits finally succeeded. All that time they had been waiting at Macao, — a settlement granted to the Portuguese in return for the assistance given to China in beating off a fleet of plundering sea-rovers. They had long since seen the folly of attempting to enter a new country under the shadow of some pretentious embassy, for inevitably a suspicion was left lurking in the minds of both the governments and the people that there was an ulterior political motive back of the preaching of the priests. Hence it was that Valignani, though in general believing in embassies to kings and rulers, after the new religion was well understood and accepted in a country, had become convinced that it was unwise to begin the work in that ostentatious fashion. He, therefore, took three clever young Italians, Michele Ruggieri, Francesco Pasio and Matteo Ricci, and after training them thoroughly in mathematics and in all the branches of the natural sciences, ordered them not only to master the Chinese language, but also to familiarize themselves with the literature and the history of the country. Ricci was available especially as a mathematician, having been the favorite pupil of Father Clavius, who was one of the chief constructors of the Gregorian Calendar.
According to Huc (p. 40) they gained access to the forbidden land by taking part in a comedy. A viceroy, he tells us, who lived near Canton, summoned to his tribunal on some charge or other both the bishop and the governor of Macao. This was a grievous insult to those dignitaries, but on the other hand if they refused to appear, the result might be disastrous for the whole Portuguese colony. To extricate themselves from the dilemma a trick was resorted to — one which was quite in keeping with Chinese methods. Instead of going themselves, they sent two persons who pretended to be the bishop and governor. For the former Father Ruggieri was chosen, for the latter, a layman. On the face of it, the story is absurd. It would be impossible to impersonate two such well-known functionaries as a bishop and a governor, and the discovery of such a fraud would inevitably entail condign punishment. Most probably Ruggieri and his companion went simply as representatives of the two functionaries. They were well provided with presents, which had the desired effect of making the viceroy forget his grievances, if he had any. He accepted everything very graciously and suggested a second visit. Then Ruggieri apprised him of the longing he had always entertained of passing his whole life in the wonderful land of China, with its marvellously intellectual people, and was assured that his wish might possibly be gratified later on. But when a hint was thrown out about a wonderful clock which the missionary possessed and was extremely anxious to show such an important personage as the viceroy, every difficulty about a permanent residence immediately disappeared.
The party was conducted back to the boat with great ceremony; and when Ruggieri's return was delayed by an attack of sickness, the viceregal junk was sent to the Island to convey him to Tchao-King; and also to deliver into his hands a formal authorization to establish a house in the town. Valignani, who was then at Macao, hesitated for a time about accepting the offer, but finally consented. On December 18 Ruggieri embarked, taking with him Father Pasio and a scholastic, along with several Chinese. This addition to the party somewhat surprised the viceroy, but Ruggieri told him that being a priest, it was in keeping with his dignity to have an attendant. The others were only servants, but the clock did the work, and the audacious apostles received a Buddhist temple outside the town as their place of residence, and were the recipients of frequent favors in the way of food from the delighted viceroy. He even granted permission to Ruggieri to call Ricci from Macao. Their temple-residence soon became famous, and every one in Tchao-King, from the highest civil and military functionaries down to what we now call coolies, came out to see the occupants.
Unfortunately, the viceroy was deposed and his successor, objecting to the presence of the foreigners, ordered the whole party to return to Macao. They did not obey, but made an attempt to reach Canton, which the former official had given them authority to enter. They succeeded by purposely getting themselves arrested in Hong-Kong. But in Canton no attention was paid to the document they had with them, and so they made their way back to Macao, convinced that there was no hope of remaining in China under the new incumbent. Yet to their great surprise, the very man they feared sent an envoy over to Macao to bring the three missionaries back to Tchao-King. He welcomed them effusively and gave them a beautiful site for their residence, quite close to a famous porcelain tower, which had just been erected and was considered a monument of Chinese architecture. This was the cradle of Christianity in China.
In 1589, however, there arrived a new viceroy who took a fancy to their residence, and without any ceremony dispossessed them. But as they had already won such favor by their maps and globes and astronomical instruments, when they came to Tchao-Tcheou looking for a house, they were received with the wildest demonstrations of joy. They grew more popular every day, and soon the mandarins of Canton invited Ricci to speak in their assemblies. He availed himself of all these opportunities afforded him to inject into his scientific discourses something about religion, and he noted that they showed greater attention when he broached such topics than when he restricted himself to purely human science. Troubles occurred from time to time, but the number of neophytes increased daily, and Ricci, who up to that time had worn the dress of a bonze now discarded it and assumed the garb of a Chinese man of letters.
In 1595 the news came that the Japanese emperor, Taicosama was preparing an expedition against Corea, whereupon, the general-in-chief of the Chinese troops came down to Tchao-Tcheou to consult Ricci. But it was not so much to discuss the military situation as to get him to restore a favorite child to health. Ricci promised to pray for the boy, and in return asked to accompany the general back to Pekin for he was convinced that if he could once convert the educated classes of the capital the rest of his work would be easy. The request was granted, and Ricci was thus, very probably, the first white man to travel through the interior of China and to see the people of the cities and country at close range. At Nankin, however, he noted the deep suspicion entertained for foreigners, and although he went as far as Pekin itself, he thought it wiser not to enter the city, and consequently he returned by the Yellow River to Tchao-Tcheou.
Taicosama's expedition from Japan proved a failure, and the public anxiety about foreigners ceased to be acute. This lull enabled Ricci to establish himself at Nankin, which seemed to have struck his fancy as he passed through it on his way to Pekin. The city was in a fever about the study of astronomy and astrology, and he found a hearty welcome among its learned men. He taught them in his daily intercourse many of the doctrines of the Faith, and got in return from them the real meaning of their ancestor-worship and ceremonies. Hence, he had no scruples at all about taking part in the honors paid to Confucius, who was the great legislator and teacher of China, and he never suspected that there would be later a hue and cry in the Church about the alleged idolatry of these very ceremonies.
Meantime he forwarded information about the observatory of Nankin that quite astounded scientific Europe. Nankin, however, did not satisfy him, and he made constant but unavailing efforts to reach the imperial city of Pekin. Finally, in 1600, after seventeen years of patient waiting, he succeeded. His coming produced a great sensation. He was even admitted to the palace, but really never saw the emperor, though the people at large fancied he had been accorded that privilege. However, it amounted almost to the same thing, for the effect produced and his real missionary success dated from that moment. The greatest mandarin of the court became a Christian and almost a saint, though his name was Sin. Later, Sin went about preaching Christianity. His conversion itself was a sermon, and was the beginning of many others. Meantime the five Jesuits at Canton drew multitudes around them. The upper classes flocked to hear their discourses, and began to take pride in being considered Christians, but it was hard for them to understand why the Gospel was not exclusively restricted to their set. They could not yet grasp the fact, even after baptism, that the lower classes had the same privilege of salvation as themselves. To the Chinese mind it was a social revolution, and they were right, but they were wrong in objecting to it.
Here an interesting episode occurs. Associated with Father Geronimo Aquaviva in the court of the Grand Mogul at Agra was a Portuguese lay-brother named Benedict Goes. Although engaged only in domestic service, he was in great favor with the barbarian monarch, and if the Viceroy of India was saved from disaster, it was due to Goes, who not only persuaded the Grand Mogul to desist from war with the Portuguese, but succeeded in having himself sent down to Goa with all the children who had been captured in the various raids of Akbar's armies into Portuguese territory. While he was at Agra, reports had been coming in that the Fathers had at last entered China — the Cathay of the old Franciscans of the thirteenth century, and it was deemed advisable to try to establish communications with them. Goes was chosen to carry out the project, and, in 1602, he started from Agra, which lies in the northern part of Hindostan, about south of Delhi and west of Lucknow. It meant a journey from the centre of Hindostan, across the whole of Thibet and China, among absolutely unknown nations, savage and semi-civilized, Mohammedans and idolaters, through trackless forests and over snow-clad mountains, facing the dangers of starvation and sickness and wild beasts at every step. But all that was not thought to be beyond the powers of the courageous brother. Disguised as an Armenian, he had a hard time of it from robber chiefs and barbarian princes. He was ill-treated by most of them, for he openly professed that he was a Christian. When he refused to pay respect to Mohammed, he was sentenced to be trampled to death by elephants, but he was finally pardoned and allowed to resume his journey. On he plodded for five years, and just as he was nearing the goal his strength gave out. Fortunately Father Ricci, at Pekin, had heard of his coming, and sent Father Fernandes to meet him. When Fernandes arrived, Goes was breathing his last in the frontier town of Su-Chou. It was then 1607, and the dying man told his brother Jesuit: "For five years I have been without the sacraments, but I do not remember any serious sin since I set out from Agra." He died on April 7, 1607.
In 1606 there was worry in China about certain reports originating in Macao, where the Portuguese were stationed. The Jesuits were accused of aspiring to nothing else than the imperial throne; to prove it, attention was called to the fact that all their houses were built on hills, and could be easily transformed into citadels in time of war. It was said, too, that a Dutch fleet in the offing was at their service, and that arrangements had been made with the Japanese for an invasion. The result was a general panic throughout the empire and not a few apostacies. Threats to kill the missionaries also began to be heard. Coincident with this, came an unwise act on the part of the Vicar-General of Macao, who, because of a decision against him in a dispute he had with the Franciscans, put the whole island under interdict. The result was that the political situation became still more threatening, and Father Martines was arrested at Canton, tortured in the most horrible fashion, and finally executed. This death, however, marked as it was by the heroic courage of the victim, his affirmations in the midst of his sufferings of his own innocence and that of his brethren, quelled the storm. Ricci's influence, also, contributed to calm the excited people, and he became greater than ever in their estimation. He was called another Confucius, and was even empowered by the authorities to establish a novitiate at Pekin. Ricci was well on in years by that time, but continued valiantly at his work, making saints as well as great littérateurs and mathematicians out of his Jesuit associates; he wrote treatises in Chinese on Christian ethics, while continuing his mathematical works, and all day long he was busy with the great mandarins who came to consult him. In 1610 he succumbed under these accumulated labors, and his obsequies were such as had never been accorded to any other foreigner. The funeral procession, preceded by the cross, traversed the entire city, and by order of the emperor his remains were laid in a temple, which was thenceforth transformed into a Christian church.