Chapter Thirteen: The Missionary (Part One)

On this day, Xu Guangqi reported that the group of missionaries arriving from Macao was already near the capital, and he had come to request instructions from the Emperor. Zhu Youjiao issued a decree, granting Xu Guangqi full authority over the matter, and stated that he would choose an appropriate time to receive them himself. Xu Guangqi was Vice Minister of Rites, and as a believer himself, he was the ideal person for this task.

On the ninth day of the eleventh month, the missionary delegation arrived in the capital. Xu Guangqi arranged for them to stay at the Huitong Guesthouse, which was utterly astonishing for the missionaries. Previously, they had faced great difficulties even obtaining the right to preach; once that right had been barely secured, the incident in Nanjing led to the expulsion of many missionaries. Now, however, they were being accommodated in the Huitong Guesthouse, a privilege usually reserved for tribute missions—an extraordinary honor. The missionaries were anxious; Nicolas Trigault asked Xu Guangqi if this was appropriate. Xu Guangqi reassured him that it was the Emperor’s direct order, and that they should simply stay there and await an imperial summons.

The missionaries were awash in boundless happiness. They compiled a list of the more than seven thousand volumes they had brought, asking Xu Guangqi to present it to the Emperor on their behalf and requesting that a team be organized to translate these books.

Zhu Youjiao skimmed the catalog. It included philosophical works such as the Complete Works of Angelo, scientific masterpieces like Copernicus’ On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres and Kepler’s Epitome of Copernican Astronomy, as well as treatises on machinery, such as The Wonders of Western Machines... There was nothing it did not cover: mathematics, astronomy, physics, geology, biology, medicine, military affairs.

“Sir, how are Western books currently translated?”

“Your Majesty, if I may take my translation of Euclid’s Elements as an example: Matteo Ricci would dictate orally, and I would record it with my pen; we would go over the text repeatedly, seeking to capture the book’s essence, then revise it into our own language. Altogether, there would be three drafts.”

“This method is not good—too slow and too cumbersome. Let us do this: the Ministry of Rites will establish a Translation Bureau. Where is Yang Tingyun, whom you recommended last time?”

“Yang Tingyun is currently at home, without office.”

“What position did he hold previously? What rank?”

“He was formerly a Censor, at the seventh rank.”

“Very well. Issue a decree appointing Yang Tingyun as Director of the Translation Bureau under the Ministry of Rites. Gather from across the country scholars interested in Western languages—let them enter the Bureau to learn these languages. For now, use the old method to translate the books on machinery and military technology for me. For the other works, the missionaries should first compile textbooks for the Bureau’s students; once the students have mastered the languages, they can proceed with further translations.”

“As for those skilled at making telescopes and casting cannons, assign them to the Armory under Director Sun, and have them produce actual items. Once that is done, I will receive them myself.”

Xu Guangqi conveyed the Emperor’s intentions, and the missionaries were all elated. Though the Emperor said nothing about religion, his interest in Western science boded well for the spread of their faith. Trigault felt as if a golden age of mission work had arrived. Compared to his previous experience in the Ming realm, this was pure happiness.

He immediately organized those missionaries already proficient in Chinese to begin translating the works specified by the Emperor, and urged those less skilled in the language to redouble their studies. He himself began to prepare textbooks for the Translation Bureau’s students. What should he call it? After consulting with Xu Guangqi and the other missionaries, they decided on "Aids to the Eyes and Ears of Western Scholars," intending to show the people of the Ming that the West, like their own realm, had learned scholars, and was not a land of barbarians—thus fostering greater understanding and acceptance of the West, including its religion.

The two missionaries he had brought also went to the Armory to begin constructing telescopes and casting cannons. After a dozen or so days, both were completed. Xu Guangqi reported to the Emperor, and Zhu Youjiao decided to grant them an audience.

Trigault, accompanied by Johann Schall and Deng Yuhan, followed Xu Guangqi into the palace. As they gazed at the towering, splendid halls, the three of them felt their spirits soar. In a nation with such magnificent architecture, perhaps soon the grace of God would descend; so many had abandoned family and homeland, traveling to this distant land for the sake of spreading God’s glory, and today, the great Emperor’s willingness to receive them brought them one step closer to their goal.

The missionaries understood well the importance of adapting to local custom. Since Ricci’s time, they had grown accustomed to the ritual of three kneelings and nine prostrations before the Chinese Emperor. When the ceremony was complete, Zhu Youjiao bid them be seated.

He first inquired after the names of the three missionaries, reflecting that none sounded familiar to him. Still, his own ignorance did not mean they were unknown figures; he simply was not acquainted with them.

“You have journeyed from the distant West to preach in our Ming realm. I wish to know: in what ways do the West and our own empire differ? More specifically, where is our Ming inferior to the West? Please do not hold back—speak plainly and without reservation.” At last, he could dispense with formal rhetoric, and Zhu Youjiao found this refreshingly direct.

“Your Majesty, your country is far wealthier than any in Europe. The people of the Ming live in orderly, clean wooden houses; we reside in filthy, cramped dwellings of stone and brick. The Ming has broad, solid avenues where traffic is orderly; our roads are mostly narrow or muddy. Your people wear beautiful and varied garments, while ours are plain, and most lack even enough clothing. The Ming people we have met are gentle and courteous; there are never beggars on your streets, while our cities are rife with thieves and beggars, and the countryside harbors bandits. To live in the Ming is truly a blessing.”

“Haha, so you have learned the art of flattery as well. I want to know where we fall short, not to be praised.”

“Your Majesty, we speak only the truth. Apart from the absence of the Lord’s radiance upon this land, we find the Ming already most excellent,” Trigault hastened to clarify. Indeed, he was sincere. In the early seventeenth century, Europe was hardly impressive—Parisian streets were awash with filth, and ordinary life was often wretched.

“In truth, I know of one area where we are deficient. You value ingenious devices, and seek to replace human labor with machines, treasuring the exploration of nature’s workings. Yet our officials believe that as long as I, the Emperor, cultivate virtue and good governance, the people’s hearts will be at peace and the nation will prosper. They do not wish the common people to learn how to save labor or improve efficiency; they dismiss your mechanical arts as frivolous tricks.”

“As for what you call the Lord’s radiance, the reason you face obstacles in your mission is not because of us, but because of yourselves—you must understand this.”