Chapter 135: The Mission of Father Trigault
“Several masters!” His wife threw herself at the feet of the leader, clutching his leg and wailing, “He’s been lame for years and hasn’t been in that business for a long time! Please, have mercy and spare a disabled man.”
“It’s alright, he’s not going to die,” the blue-collared leader said. “As long as he answers honestly, he’ll be back in a few days. If he’s not honest—” He paused deliberately. “Then I can’t say.”
Chen Lianjian was released from the office two days later, his back so bent he could barely stand straight. His eyes were vacant, and his face was covered in stubble.
“Your confession was very good. We hope you don’t have any reservations and haven’t concealed anything…”
“I wouldn’t dare, I wouldn’t dare,” Chen Lianjian said, bowing and scraping, on the verge of tears. “I… I’ve told you everything, I haven’t hidden a single thing.”
“Go back and work hard! Don’t mention what happened here, understand?”
Chen Lianjian limped away, his steps heavy, but he walked with all his might, wanting to get as far away from this hellish place as possible.
In those two days, he had told them everything he knew: where the bandits usually operated, the names of the gangs, their slang…
He felt as if he had been put through an oil press, squeezed dry until nothing but a withered husk remained.
Anyone with ties to the bandits was given the same treatment. These “talks” were not limited to bandits but also included ordinary people and the local gentry.
The implementation of strategic hamlets was also underway. A long-range survey team and urban planning specialists from the Lingao Construction General Company arrived from Lingao. They would assist the Danzhou authorities in properly laying out the strategic hamlets, ensuring that each one could prosper in the future.
“Father Trigault is waiting in the reception hall,” Ambler whispered.
“Show him in,” Geronimo said, sitting in his chair and gazing at the large pane of glass recently installed in his window. It was Australian glass, large and thin, much lighter than the European kind, and could be fitted into a window frame without the need for a dense grid of lead strips.
The large glass window made the room very bright, so much so that Geronimo, who had spent most of his life working and living in dimly lit rooms, found it hard to adjust at first.
Trade with Lingao had made Macao even more prosperous. Large quantities of goods were shipped from here to Europe and West Asia. Lingao’s large-format glass was even being sold back to Europe—even with the cost of long-distance shipping and breakage, it was cheaper than the clumsy, heavy, small panes of European glass.
At the same time, there were large quantities of iron-tipped dip pens—smoother to write with than quills and requiring no meticulous sharpening. When they wore out, you just replaced the nib. And the Australians even offered to buy back the used nibs at half price.
Not to mention the beautifully packaged “Great Tang Princess” rice wine. The Jesuits had made a fortune from it. The beautiful porcelain bottle itself had become a collector’s item for many locals. And every three months, the porcelain material and design of the “Great Tang Princess” bottle would change, sparking a collecting craze among many.
However, what worried the Father-General most was that the Australians were actually selling Latin versions of the Bible and catechisms to the Church.
The religious books they sold were not only cheap but also beautifully printed, with many different editions. There were large-print versions, pocket-sized versions, and even so-called “illustrated versions” with many pictures.
Geronimo had personally reviewed every edition and found that they were not only doctrinally identical to the Vatican’s authorized versions but also superior in proofreading, even more perfect than the Vatican’s own.
“This is truly incredible,” Geronimo said, shocked. That a lost church could produce scriptures with wording identical to the Vatican’s authorized version was too strange.
But strange or not, the religious books printed in Lingao were far cheaper than those printed by the Germans. Soon, the Jesuit merchant ships were carrying books to Europe. If not for the Lingao side’s limited production capacity, the trade would have been even larger.
Lingao was a strange place indeed. Geronimo’s interest in the place and the Australians grew day by day.
“My child, are you ready to go to Hainan Island?” the Father-General asked after the priest had kissed his ring.
“Yes, Father-General,” the man said humbly.
The decision for Father Trigault to go to Lingao had been made months ago. He and two other friars were to replace the two friars who had been called to the Lord in the Li areas in recent months. But the Ming army’s campaign against Lingao had delayed the matter.
They had originally planned to travel on a ship belonging to the Huang Shunlong trading house. But Huang Shunlong had received news that the Ming were attacking the Australians in Lingao. The army had crossed the sea to Qiongzhou, and Ming warships were blockading the Qiongzhou Strait.
“No ships can get through now. If we try to force it, we’ll likely lose both the ship and the cargo,” Huang Shunlong had said, suggesting it was best to wait until the situation calmed down.
The Church first learned of the Ming’s military action against the Australians in Lingao from a letter from Father Lu Ruohua. The news had initially made the Jesuits very nervous—the missionary work in Lingao had just gotten off to a good start, and they didn’t want it to be cut short. For this reason, Geronimo immediately wrote to the mission in Beijing, asking them to see if they could take any action.
However, Lu Ruohua was very optimistic about the Australians. In his letter, he predicted that the Ming army would be defeated, as the Australians had organized “the strongest and best-trained army in the entire Far East.”
As summer arrived amidst the tense waiting, news of the Ming army’s rout reached Macao. The blockade of the Qiongzhou Strait had been lifted—the western waters of Guangdong had become the Australians’ domain.
Geronimo returned to his desk. “I know you originally wanted to go to Hangzhou to take over your uncle’s missionary work. However, the future of the mission in China is not there. It is in Lingao.”
Father Trigault heard the word again and lowered his head.
When he had been sent from Flanders to the Far East two years ago, he had thought the Jesuits would have him succeed his great distant relative, Father Nicolas Trigault, who had been favored by the Pope but had recently been called to the Lord in Hangzhou, China. He himself was very interested in Marco Polo’s “celestial city” and wanted to see the legendary city with his own eyes.
However, after he arrived in Manila, “Lingao” had spread through the Church like a magic spell. This obscure little place had become the biggest point of excitement for the Catholic Church in the Far East, far surpassing the conversion of daimyos in Japan and the establishment of a church in Beijing. Many priests hoped to sow the seeds of faith in this land for the Lord.
Everything about the Australians in Lingao had become an extremely hot topic among the local church and gentry. The gentry coveted the Australians’ wealth, while the Church saw their appearance on Hainan Island as a sign from God.
Copies of the “Collected Letters of Father Lu Ruohua” from Macao became a sought-after item among priests and gentlemen, everyone trying to borrow a copy. In comparison, the achievements of Matteo Ricci and his successors in China over several decades seemed insignificant.
Many priests hoped to go to Lingao, but the Jesuits had firmly maintained their exclusive missionary rights to Lingao and Hainan Island—a privilege that had been granted by the Holy See.
Going to Lingao meant a very high mortality rate. In recent years, two priests had unfortunately contracted the plague and been called to the Lord while proselytizing in the “savage areas” of Lingao. Father Lu Ruohua, however, had remained in good health. He had contracted the plague several times but had miraculously recovered each time.
After learning he was to be sent to Lingao, Father Trigault had read the “China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journals of Matteo Ricci” and all the books and manuscripts about China he could find. Besides a few reports from 1560, 1563, and 1584 about missionaries entering Hainan Island, he learned that one of Matteo Ricci’s greatest supporters in the Chinese court, the minister Wang Honghui, was a native of this island. His family still lived in a city on the island called Ding’an. His son, Paul, maintained a small church there and occasionally came to Macao for guidance on church affairs.
The Jesuits had originally been very interested in this small mission in Ding’an, but the appearance of the Australians had completely shifted their focus on Hainan to Lingao.
Father-General Geronimo gave a brief introduction to Hainan Island and Lingao. The group currently controlling Lingao was a group of Chinese who claimed to be from “Australia,” and it was they who had invited the Jesuit priests to spread the gospel of the Lord. The “Australians” were different from ordinary Chinese; they were intelligent, quick-witted, and treated people with the same humility and courtesy as the most elegant gentlemen in Europe. This conversation filled Father Trigault with confidence in his mission.
“The church in Lingao is already quite large,” Geronimo said, wearily rubbing his forehead. “But it is completely under the control of the Australians.”
“I understand what you mean.”
“No, you don’t…” A smile touched the corners of the Father-General’s mouth as he looked at the priest.
“…Your mission is to expand the flock of the Lord, not to create disputes within it.”
“Yes, Father-General.”
“You must observe the Australians closely. They are a different kind of Chinese,” Geronimo said with a strange smile. “Observe them well, and always remember to spread the gospel of the Lord to those without faith—but do not anger them.”
“I understand, Father-General.”
“Mr. Lando will accompany you to Lingao.”