Matteo Ricci (16 page)

The assignment was most demanding, and Ricci thought the help of a “very learned” master indispensable. He accordingly resumed lessons in classical Chinese, becoming a pupil again at the age of over forty, as he wrote to Claudio Acquaviva on December 10, 1593 (“I am going to become a schoolboy in my old age”),
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confirming that he had been at work on the difficult translation for at least a year.

Ricci completed his task at the end of 1594 by producing the first Latin paraphrase of the Confucian works accompanied by numerous comments. During the years of the mission’s activity, the manuscript was used for study by Jesuits arriving in China and served as a text of reference for the compilation of the celebrated
Confucius Sinarum Philosophus
, the first complete presentation of the life and work of Confucius in the West, published in Paris in 1687 by a group of Jesuits under the supervision of Philippe Couplet from the Spanish Netherlands.
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The Four Books of Confucianism aroused the same interest in Ricci as the Greek and Latin works studied at the Roman College, and he found remarkable similarities between Confucian morality and the principles of Western ethics, as well as a particular affinity between the Chinese philosophy and Stoicism. He described them in a letter to Superior General Acquaviva as “sound moral documents”
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and Confucius as “another Seneca,” appreciating him as he had the great classical thinkers of the West: “In his sound way of living in harmony with nature, he is not inferior to our ancient philosophers and indeed superior to many.”
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Ricci was unquestionably struck by the fact that Confucianism identified man’s primary duty as the practice of two fundamental virtues, namely rectitude and benevolence or humanity,
ren
in Chinese, and encouraged citizens to cultivate solidarity, respect, courtesy, and trust. Moreover, the Chinese philosophy saw the family as the basis of society and the state as a great family, the emperor being described as the “mother and father” of his subjects. According to Confucius, the foundations of society were the five key relations between ruler and subject, father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger brother, and friends.

Another cornerstone of Confucian philosophy that Ricci could not fail to appreciate as a humanist was veneration for the past and the most ancient traditions. To quote one of the master’s best-known dicta, “Following the proper way, I do not forge new paths; with confidence I cherish the ancients.”
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In developing his studies, the Jesuit was pleasantly surprised to note that some of the Chinese master’s pithy utterances bore obvious similarities to sayings of Western classicism now part of the legacy of European culture. The Confucian view of the virtue of the just and constant mean as the supreme requirement
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recalled Aristotle’s view of virtue lying at the mean in the Nicomachean Ethics, just as the Chinese injunction not to impose on others what you do not wish for yourself
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is echoed in the well-known principle enunciated in the New Testament.

Ricci knew that the Confucian philosophy had been reworked over the centuries and was studied during the Ming era in the interpretation developed in the eleventh century by Zhu Xi, a member of the school known in the West in modern terms as Neo-Confucianism. Zhu Xi inserted the great master’s teaching into a more organic and complex philosophical system that took up elements of the Buddhist and Taoist doctrines in a highly demanding work of synthesis that has given rise to comparisons with Aquinas. His interpretation had become established dogma over the centuries, and no scholar failing to embrace Neo-Confucianism completely could ever pass the state examinations in the Ming era. Ricci did not accept Zhu Xi’s version, not least because of his discovery that ancient Confucianism spoke of
Shangdi
, the “Lord on High,” a sacral figure he regarded as possessing the same characteristics as the Christian god, whereas Zhu Xi referred rather to a supreme culmination or principle,
taiji
, the origin and foundation of all things, a concept far removed from the idea of a personal god. On reading the Confucian classics, Ricci formed the conviction that the catechism he had already begun to draft
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would be able to show Chinese scholars that Christian thinking and morality were perfectly compatible with ancient Confucianism before its Neo-Confucian reinterpretation. There would, however, be time for lengthy reflection on all these matters, as the Jesuit was determined that the writing of his religious text would take just as long as was necessary to ensure that it was an important and lasting work.

The study and translation of the Four Books enabled Ricci to take a further step toward integration into Chinese society. He now enjoyed the admiration of literati, as they had never known of a “barbarian” capable of quoting Confucius and discussing philosophy and ethics like a candidate for the imperial examinations. Li Madou, as his friends observed, was turning into a
shidafu
.

Despite the social and cultural successes, little progress was made in spreading the Gospel, and Ricci, for all his patience, began to feel some alarm. He had already expressed his concern to Acquaviva two years earlier—“so much time and so little fruit”
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—and the situation had not improved, as shown by the total of just under forty converts in the space of nearly four years. It was now clear that the decision to remain in Shaozhou had proved unfruitful, not least because the persistent hostility of a section of the population toward the Jesuits, along with the widespread malaria, gave rise to constant concern. In his role from afar as supervisor of the China mission, Valignano suggested to Ricci that given this state of affairs, he and his companions should try to move to a less hostile province with a healthier climate as soon as possible. The opportunity to do so presented itself far sooner than expected.

The Attempt to Reach Beijing:
Shipwreck and the Abandonment of Buddhist Robes

Recently summoned to Beijing as vice minister of war responsible for leading the Chinese army in the offensive against Japan, Shi Xing
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passed through Shaozhou at the beginning of May 1595. The
guan
was traveling with his eldest son, aged twenty-one, who was in a state of severe depression after failing the first-level imperial examinations. As Ricci was well aware, failure to meet the set standards constituted a humiliating setback for the candidate and a disgrace for the family, who expected to improve their social position on his entry into the state bureaucracy. Since the selection process was extremely rigorous and only a small percentage of students succeeded in passing, the competing candidates were under great psychological pressure, and the most fragile broke down beneath the weight of the responsibility they felt. Ricci’s friends who had been through this experience told him about the sheer toil of preparation, the fear of failure, and the obsession with auspicious signs portending success.

The Chinese believed in the prophetic value of dreams, which they interpreted as messages from the world of spirits, and all the candidates endeavored to discover good omens in their nightly visions before the examinations. To this end, they consulted the various books on sale devoted to the interpretation of dreams, publications full of illustrations showing young students asleep at their desks with their heads resting on their books and their dreams represented in great white clouds. If the image in the cloud was of a victorious warrior or a conquering hero on horseback, success was guaranteed. The abundance of such publications showed the extent to which the examinations constituted a collective nightmare.
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The disappointment of failure had shattered Shi Xing’s firstborn son and brought him to the brink of madness. Not knowing how to help, the mandarin sent Ricci gifts and a pressing invitation to visit him on his junk in the hope that the Westerner’s wisdom might suggest some remedy. The Jesuit realized that he was being presented with a golden opportunity to leave the town and reach Beijing. He asked the vice minister to take him to the capital so that they could discuss his son’s problems during the long journey by river. The mandarin agreed, the indispensable permit was obtained from the governor, and Ricci prepared to leave together with two servants and the two young catechists João Barradas and Domingos Fernandes, the sons of Christian families in Macao, who were in Shaozhou for the preparatory training required for entry into the Society of Jesus.

The journey to Beijing along the system of rivers and canals connecting the south of China with the capital took at least two months. The small fleet of junks left on May 18, 1595.
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The first carried Shi Xing, the second his wife, concubines, children, and domestic servants, along with the others his retinue, now including the missionaries, together with a huge amount of baggage. The vice minister’s vessels enjoyed right of way with respect to all commercial craft and cleared their path when the canals and rivers were very crowded by beating drums during the day and illuminating the decks with red lanterns at night. There were supply stations along the way at which the convoy was provided with food, meat, fish, rice, fruit, vegetables, wine, and water at the expense of the provincial authorities. When the wind was not sufficient to swell the sails, the boats were hauled by the teams of men always waiting on the banks to offer their services.

After a short stop in the city of Nanxiong, Ricci was accommodated on the mandarin’s junk and finally had the opportunity to travel in one of the richly decorated floating palaces he had seen passing on the river so often from the windows of his house in Zhaoqing. There were numerous bedrooms equipped with every comfort as well as a galley, a storeroom, and even a large hall for banquets containing about ten tables.
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Shi Xing was kept busy at every stop by receiving the requisite courtesy visits of local dignitaries. As the vice minister was so occupied with his social commitments that he never found the time to discuss his son’s problems, Ricci preferred to hire a junk all for himself and to travel on it together with his companions.

On proceeding northward, the vessels entered a tributary where navigation was made difficult by the presence of rapids and hidden rocks, particularly in a stretch known as “eighteen currents.” Before undertaking this risky passage, the
guan
stopped to burn sticks of incense in a Buddhist temple, thus showing that mandarins also became devout believers when faced with danger. The flagship managed to negotiate the rapids unharmed, but the smaller vessel carrying the women and children struck the rocks and started shipping water. On hearing the desperate cries of the passengers, Ricci ordered his helmsman to steer alongside and managed to get the women and children on board safe and sound by means of a daring maneuver. Having immediately moved to another junk in accordance with etiquette, he took the good news of the rescue to the vice minister who was waiting anxiously some distance upriver.

They all set off again the following morning, with Ricci and João Barradas now on one of the vessels carrying the retinue. A strong wind started blowing as soon as they got underway and threatened to capsize the junks, which were flat-bottomed like all river craft, with comparatively tall masts and sails of matted rushes instead of the canvas traditionally employed in the West. Ricci’s boat overturned on being caught by a violent gust, and the Jesuit found himself in the water. Being unable to swim, he commended his soul to God and struggled to keep afloat. He managed to grasp a rope and catch his breath before clambering onto a spar and clinging to it as well as to a piece of wood tossed up by the waves. With the aid of a servant, he finally found refuge on the overturned hull. All the passengers had survived the peril except João, who knew how to swim but had disappeared beneath the water. Ricci did not give up hope. Tied to a rope and helped by some of the servants, he dived repeatedly in search of his companion but with no success.

The death of Barradas was a serious blow for the Jesuit, who would have given up at that point if he had not felt that it was his duty to carry out his mission in the capital. The mandarin tried to comfort him and provided silver to pay for the funeral, which was very generous of him, as another vessel had been wrecked in the meantime, with the loss of nearly all the baggage.

On arriving at the town of Ji’an, the junks were met by a gale, and the vice minister began to see these events as bad omens. Frightened and intent only on reaching Beijing as soon as possible, he decided to continue overland with the women and part of his retinue, leaving some servants to resume the journey by river with the rest of the surviving baggage when the weather improved. Changing means of transport was no problem for a
guan
of his rank, who was entitled to provisions, fresh horses, and bearers at the expense of the local authorities at every stage of his journey. This privilege did not, however, extend to Ricci, who did not have sufficient money with him to pay for further transport. Given this state of affairs and his growing conviction that taking foreigners to Beijing had not been such a good idea, Shi Xing advised Ricci to turn back.

The Jesuit had no intention of giving up. His thirteen years in China had taught him to insist in order to obtain what he wanted. He offered the mandarin’s secretary a prism in return for securing a permit for him to continue at least as far as Nanjing, but the gift was declined with the explanation that the vice minister had yet to receive the indispensable seal of office, without which such documents had no validity. Ricci then went straight to Shi Xing and, finding him still greatly upset at the loss of his baggage, tried to console him by explaining that misfortunes were sent by the Lord of Heaven to test the strength of one’s faith, a concept that the mandarin, being wholly unacquainted with Christian morality, unquestionably found it hard to understand. He refused Ricci’s request for a permit but suggested in view of the Jesuit’s determination not to return to Shaozhou that he should stay in Nanchang, the capital of the Jiangxi province, a peaceful city where he had friends to whom he could write letters of recommendation. He advised him most earnestly against going to Nanjing, a city too strongly connected with the imperial court, where a foreigner would be very unlikely to find a warm welcome due to the suspicion aroused by the war with Japan. Ricci was not to be convinced, however, and left the prism as a gift in order to make the
guan
feel indebted. This move proved effective, and the vice minister finally helped him to obtain a permit to proceed to Nanjing from the local authorities. Shi Xing left the following morning in a convoy of at least thirty litters with mounted guards and servants. Ricci resumed the journey by river with part of the retinue.