Chapter 923 – Escalating
This attitude of indifferent avoidance infuriated Huang Zhen and the others. The sudden increase in onlookers over the past few days had greatly lifted the spirits of the entire anti-religion faction, who believed that justice was clearly on the side of the people. Their enthusiasm only grew. Originally, Huang, Zhang, and the others had merely gone to the church gates to deliver debate challenges and post notices of inquiry on the spirit wall before leaving. Recently, they'd simply begun holding rallies right in front of the church, denouncing "the Western Heretical Path."
Standing in the crowd, Gao Xuan watched as more and more people gathered. At first he thought they were just idlers who'd come along to watch the excitement, but he soon realized something was wrong. These people were all agitated and aggressive—rolling up their sleeves, shaking their fists, their mouths spewing foul language:
"Heretics! Are you coming out or not?"
"If you don't come out now, we're going to break down the door!"
"Hey, don't you call yourselves gentlemen, saying 'I have sinned' all day long? Well, come out and receive your punishment now!"
The cursing grew more vicious and the noise louder. Huang Zhen listened from the sidelines, feeling somewhat at a loss. The situation was clear enough: this mob of previously unknown scholars and commoners had come specifically to denounce and attack the Western Cross Religion. For the first few days, seeing so many people arrive had excited him. But recently he'd begun to feel uneasy: the dispute between the two religions was hardly even a ripple in this city of Hangzhou—why were more and more people coming? Many weren't even Buddhist disciples; some weren't even scholars. Looking at some of the most agitated provocateurs, they were obviously city "troublemakers." Senior Brother Zhang was a proper Chan Buddhist disciple who'd received the precepts—he shouldn't have recruited such people for support and show of force.
Hmm, they clearly have bad intentions. I wonder who they are? How did they find their way here? Could someone be pulling strings behind the scenes? This thought made Huang Zhen suddenly alert. If someone was exploiting the clash between the two religions to fish in troubled waters, the Chan school's reputation could also be badly damaged.
He was about to go find Zhang Tian when—since the Church kept its doors firmly shut and refused to show itself—the mob grew increasingly impatient. They continued their loud abuse, and one or two actually walked forward and began pounding on the door with their fists—dong dong dong dong. Someone in the crowd even called out slogans to rush in and smash everything.
At this point, a small side door by the courtyard opened. Apparently seeing that the mob was getting out of hand, an elderly man with a crucifix on his chest hurried out, hands pressed together, and said: "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please don't resort to violence. This is holy ground of the Church, a place of peaceful cultivation. If you have something to say, please—a few of you may enter and talk. I beg you all to show consideration."
His manner was extremely respectful and his tone very mild. But instead of calming down, the mob burst into furious denunciations:
"Sorcerer! Don't you know we've come today to hunt demons?"
"A place of purity? How dare you, old traitor who forgets his ancestors, even speak! This place harbors foreign demon monks—clearly a den of filth. What purity is there?"
"You're old, so I'll let you off—get out of here quickly! Don't provoke us, or your old bones won't survive!"
All manner of scolding, threats, and abuse rained down on the old man, leaving him dumbstruck and ashen-faced. Unable to withstand the onslaught, he could only keep making the sign of the cross as he retreated, crestfallen.
Witnessing this scene, Gao Xuan, who had followed along with the crowd, felt a surge of anger. No matter what, the other side had been very polite in their speech. Besides, he hadn't heard of the Cross Religion doing anything terrible in Hangzhou. As he was thinking this, the troublemakers grew even more carried away. They shouted loudly, stamped their feet, and pounded even more violently on the church door. Suddenly someone yelled: "If they won't open up, we'll break it down! Break it down!"
"Right, break it! Break it down!" More voices joined in. Then they began to press and surge forward in a mob toward the door.
Zhang and Huang, however, both sensed that things were going wrong. Although they called the Catholic Church "heretical," the Church had the backing of many powerful figures at court, and locally, quite a few gentry believed in it. Apart from doctrine they considered "contrary to proper ethics," the Church hadn't done anything actually evil. With the government taking no action to ban the Church, storming it would surely provoke a fierce backlash from the believing gentry. Moreover, they considered themselves scholars who emphasized "debating reason"—to resort to violence before the argument was even settled would be an ungracious victory.
Seeing people about to turn violent, it was actually they who called loudly for the crowd to calm down. But the situation was already beyond the control of these few. Zhuang Haoren and his ilk had taken silver to cause trouble—they weren't about to heed a few scholars and monks. One by one, they rolled up their sleeves, ready for a brawl.
Inside the church at Tianshui Bridge, Jesuits led by Giulio Aleni and Francesco Furtado, along with devout believers, were at that moment discussing countermeasures. After the two pillars of the Hangzhou Church had died one after the other, the Church's influence with the local government had declined significantly. Yesterday they had sent someone with calling cards to the county offices of Qiantang and Renhe, requesting that yamen runners be dispatched to maintain order. But so far, not a single runner had appeared. Instead, lots of unrelated idlers had shown up. Clearly, someone was seizing the opportunity to harm the Church.
Aleni and Furtado remained fairly calm—they had seen such things many times in their missionary careers, and they had long prepared themselves for martyrdom. But to see the Church's hard-won foundation in Hangzhou destroyed like this pained them deeply.
Several of the believing Confucian scholars at the meeting were offering various proposals. Some wanted to report immediately to the authorities; others volunteered to go to Shanghai and Jiaxing to ask the Xu and Sun families to intervene. Still others questioned the Jesuits' policy of non-engagement in the debate, arguing that their silence only emboldened the opposition.
"Father, this can't go on." A young scholar spoke urgently. "These people are fabricating all kinds of slanders against the Church. If we don't step forward to clarify, everyone will think the accusations are true!"
As he spoke, he pulled a stack of miscellaneous handbills from his sleeve and placed them on the table, his face full of indignation. "Look at this, everyone!" What he'd produced was exactly the black propaganda the Hangzhou Station had been quietly distributing recently.
Several people picked them up and read them, shaking their heads and sighing, or seething with anger. Everyone had already felt stifled by the missionaries' refusal to engage; now, seeing someone openly spreading rumors and inciting ignorant commoners, their indignation only grew.
Aleni was just about to say something when a commotion erupted outside. Then two servants stumbled in, crying out in alarm: "This is bad—they've, they've broken in!"
The believing scholars all started and rose to their feet simultaneously. A few faces went pale but they managed to stay calm; others could barely stand. Most of the believers, completely unprepared for this, involuntarily took several steps back and stared in astonishment toward the outside.
The Jesuits, at least, kept their composure and tried to calm everyone.
But before they could finish speaking, the sound of things being smashed erupted from outside, along with wild screaming:
"Flatten the place!"
"Show them who's boss!"
"Smash, smash! Smash hard!"
"Block all the doors first!" The young believing scholar directed believers to bar and barricade the main and inner gates while urging the missionaries to take shelter in the back.
Just then, other believers in the church heard the noise and came running from all corners, some still clutching sticks they'd grabbed at random. In moments, several dozen people had gathered. When they learned someone was trying to storm the church, expressions of shock and anger appeared on every face. Some argued for going out to fight to the death, even if it meant martyrdom.
Just as they were all talking at once, the main gate outside gave a tremendous crash as it was forced open.
A middle-aged man in scholar's robes raised his voice and shouted: "Stop! Stop! We have something to say!" He called out several times, but the people outside ignored him completely. If anything, the smashing grew more frenzied.
Just then, someone came to report that Master Zhao from Wanbi Bookshop had sent a messenger.
Although Master Zhao of Wanbi Bookshop wasn't a believer, he was a "seeker"—and Father Nicolas Trigault had come to Hangzhou with him. So the Church people trusted him deeply.
"Show him in at once!"
The messenger was a lean fellow in short work clothes. He hurriedly bowed to everyone:
"I'm Zhao Tong!" he announced. "My master heard there are people besieging the Church out front. He invites everyone to take shelter at Wanbi Bookshop for now! Sedan chairs are waiting in the alley behind." Perhaps fearing they wouldn't believe him, he added: "My master has already had the men of the Black Dragon Society secure the rear to escort you out."
The so-called Black Dragon Society men were members of the kinds of gangs common throughout Jiangnan at that time—organizations formed for the purpose of gang-fighting and making trouble. Each gang had from dozens to over a hundred members, a mixed lot: dissolute young men from gentry households, ordinary street thugs, and even scholars and small merchants.
Shortly after the Foreign Intelligence Bureau's Black Dragon Society operatives arrived in Hangzhou, they had used the name "Black Dragon Society" to set up a similar peripheral organization. They'd recruited this kind of muscle to serve as legwork for the Hangzhou Station, handling such unseemly tasks as acting as enforcers and spreading rumors.
Taking refuge at Wanbi Bookshop was one option—at least it would temporarily ensure personal safety. But this was the Church's largest property in Hangzhou; if it were destroyed, the losses would be incalculable. Everyone hesitated, unable to decide whether to stay or go.
Finally Aleni spoke: "You go take shelter for now. I will stay here." He made the sign of the cross and began murmuring a prayer in Latin.