Chapter 155: The Escalation

This indifferent and evasive attitude enraged Huang Zhen and the others. Coupled with the suddenly increased crowd of onlookers in recent days, the morale of the entire anti-religious group was greatly boosted. They believed that justice was on their side. They became even more enthusiastic. Originally, Huang, Zhang, and the others would just go to the church entrance, deliver their debate challenge, and post their questions on the screen wall in front of the gate, and that would be the end of it. Recently, they had simply started holding rallies in front of the church, denouncing the “evil Western way.”

Gao Xuan stood in the crowd, watching the number of people grow. At first, he thought they were just idle people who had come to watch the excitement, but he soon realized something was wrong. The people were all emotionally charged and aggressive, rolling up their sleeves, shaking their fists, and shouting obscenities: “Evil way! Are you coming out or not?”

“If you don’t come out, we’re going to break down the door!”

“Hey, don’t you usually call yourselves humble gentlemen, saying ‘I am a sinner’ all day long? Come out and receive your punishment now!”

…

The curses became more and more fierce and harsh, and the noise grew louder and louder. Huang Zhen, listening from the side, felt a little at a loss. It was clear that this group of unfamiliar Confucian scholars and citizens had come specifically to denounce and besiege this Western Cross religion. In the first few days, he had been excited to see so many people coming, but recently he had begun to feel strange: the dispute between the two religions was not even a ripple in Hangzhou, so why were more and more people coming? Many of them were not Buddhists, not even scholars. Looking at a few of the more agitated figures, it was clear they were the city’s “troublemakers.” Brother Zhang was a proper Zen disciple, an ordained man, and it was unlikely he would have brought these people out to bolster their numbers and prestige.

“Hmm, from their appearance, they clearly have ill intentions. I wonder who they are. How did they find their way here? Could someone be behind this?” At this thought, Huang Zhen immediately became vigilant. If someone took advantage of the dispute between the two religions to fish in troubled waters, the reputation of Zen Buddhism would also be greatly damaged.

He was just about to find Zhang Tian when, due to the church’s persistent refusal to open its doors and show its face, the group of people became increasingly impatient. They continued to shout and curse, and one or two of them even went up, clenched their fists, and pounded on the door with all their might. Someone in the crowd even shouted slogans about rushing in and smashing everything.

At this moment, a small side door opened. Seeing that the group was becoming more and more rowdy, an old man with a cross hanging on his chest hurried out. He clasped his hands together and said, “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please do not resort to violence. This is a holy place of the church, a place of peace and quiet for cultivation. If you have any business, you can invite a few of you to come in and talk. I hope you will all be considerate.” He said this with a very respectful attitude and a calm tone. Who would have known that the group, instead of becoming quieter, would all start to scold him angrily: “Demon! Do you know that we are here today to exterminate demons!”

“A place of peace and quiet? How dare you, an old fool who has forgotten his ancestors, have the face to say that! The people living here are all foreign demon monks. It’s clearly a den of iniquity. What peace and quiet is there to speak of!”

“For the sake of your old age, get out of here quickly and don’t provoke us, or even your old bones won’t be safe!”

…

All sorts of rebukes, threats, and curses flew at him, leaving the old man dumbfounded and pale. Seeing that he could not hold his ground, he could only make the sign of the cross and retreat dejectedly.

Witnessing this scene, Gao Xuan, who had been following the crowd to watch, felt a little angry. No matter what, the other party’s words were very polite, and besides, he had never heard of the Cross religion in Hangzhou doing anything harmful to nature or reason. As he was thinking, the group of troublemakers became even more carried away. They shouted and stomped their feet, pounding on the church door even more violently. Suddenly, someone shouted, “If he doesn’t open the door, we’ll smash it, smash it open!”

“Yes, smash it! Smash it open!” More people roared in agreement. And so, they began to crowd together, swarming towards the door.

It was Zhang and Huang who felt that things were not right. Although they denounced the Catholic Church as “demonic,” this church had the support of many high-ranking officials at court, and many local gentry were followers. Apart from their doctrines, which they considered to be “against ethics,” they had not committed any evil deeds. Now that the government had not ordered the church to be sealed and banned, their rushing to smash the church would inevitably lead to a strong backlash from the Christian gentry. At the very least, they considered themselves scholars who valued “reasoning.” To resort to violence before the reasoning was clear would be an unchivalrous victory.

Seeing that someone was about to use force, it was they who shouted loudly, asking everyone to calm down. But the situation was now beyond their control. Zhuang Haoren and his ilk were paid to cause trouble and would not listen to a few scholars and monks. They were all rubbing their hands together, eager for a big fight.

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Inside the Tianshui Bridge Church, the Jesuit priests, led by Nicolas Trigault and Lazzaro Cattaneo, along with enthusiastic members of the church, were discussing countermeasures. After the successive deaths of the two main pillars of the Hangzhou church, the church’s influence in the Hangzhou government had greatly diminished. Yesterday, they had sent people with calling cards to the yamen of Qiantang and Renhe counties, requesting that yamen runners be sent to suppress the troublemakers, but not a single runner had been seen. Instead, many unrelated idlers had arrived. Clearly, someone was trying to take advantage of the situation to harm the church.

Trigault and Cattaneo were quite calm—they had seen such things many times in their missionary careers, and they were already prepared for martyrdom. But they were unwilling to see the foundation of the church in Hangzhou, which they had built with great difficulty, destroyed just like that.

The few Christian Confucian scholars present were also proposing countermeasures. Some wanted to report to the officials immediately, while others volunteered to go to Shanghai and Jiaxing to ask the Xu and Sun families for help. Others questioned the Jesuits’ policy of not engaging in debate, believing that this would only make the people outside more arrogant.

“Father, we can’t go on like this,” a young Confucian scholar said anxiously. “These people are spreading all kinds of lies to slander the church outside. If we don’t go out to clarify, it will only make everyone think it’s true!”

With that, he took out a stack of messy posters from his sleeve, placed them on the table, and said with a face full of grief and indignation, “Gentlemen, please take a look!” What he had taken out were the black materials that the Hangzhou station had been secretly distributing recently.

The men picked them up and looked at them, some shaking their heads and sighing, others filled with indignation. Everyone was already frustrated with the priests’ avoidance of battle. Now, seeing someone openly spreading rumors to incite the ignorant masses, they felt even more resentful.

Just as Trigault was about to say something, a shout came from outside, followed by two servants stumbling in, saying in panic, “It’s bad, they’ve-they’ve broken in!”

The few Christian Confucian scholars were startled and stood up at the same time. A few turned pale but remained composed, while others could barely stand. Most of the believers were completely unprepared for this and couldn’t help but take a few steps back, staring out in astonishment.

It was the Jesuit priests who held their ground and reassured everyone not to panic.

Before the words were out of their mouths, they heard a loud crashing and smashing sound from outside, and a few voices roared, “Tear it down!”

“That’ll teach him to be arrogant!”

“Smash it, smash it! Smash it hard!”

“Block all the doors first!” the young Christian Confucian scholar shouted, directing the believers to close and barricade the main and secondary doors, while asking the priests to go to the back to take shelter.

At this moment, the other believers in the church heard the commotion and rushed out from all corners, some with clubs they had grabbed. In a flash, dozens of people had gathered. When they learned that someone was trying to smash the church, they all showed expressions of shock and anger. Some advocated going out to fight the other side to the death, even if it meant martyrdom.

As they were discussing animatedly, the main gate outside suddenly crashed open with a loud bang.

A middle-aged man dressed as a Confucian scholar raised his voice and shouted, “Stop, stop! We have something to say!” He shouted several times, but the people outside paid no attention. On the contrary, the smashing and banging became even more frantic.

Just then, someone came to report that a man from Master Zhao of the Wanbi Bookstore had arrived.

Although Master Zhao of the Wanbi Bookstore was not a believer, he was a “seeker of the Way,” and Father Nicolas Trigault had also come to Hangzhou with him, so the people of the church already trusted him very much.

“Quick, please!”

The visitor was a lean man in short clothes. He hurriedly bowed to the crowd.

“I am Zhao Tong!” he announced his name. “My master, Master Zhao, heard that someone is besieging the church outside and asks you all to go to the Wanbi Bookstore to take shelter for a while! The sedan chairs are waiting in the back alley.” Fearing they wouldn’t believe him, he added, “My master has already asked the heroes of the Oolong Society to secure the back and escort you all out.”

The so-called heroes of the Oolong Society were gangs that existed in various parts of Jiangnan at the time, whose purpose was to gather crowds for fights and disturbances. Each gang had dozens to hundreds of people, with a complex composition: there were dissolute sons of gentry and wealthy families, as well as ordinary street ruffians, and even some scholars and small merchants.

Not long after the Black Dragon Society personnel of the Foreign Intelligence Bureau arrived in Hangzhou, they had formed a similar peripheral group under the name of the “Oolong Society,” recruiting such people to serve as the outer legs of the Hangzhou station, doing some unsavory tasks: acting as thugs and spreading rumors were their specialties.

Taking shelter at the Wanbi Bookstore was indeed a solution—at least it could temporarily ensure their personal safety. But this was the church’s largest property in Hangzhou, and if it was destroyed, the loss would be immeasurable. Everyone was reluctant to leave. While they were hesitating, Trigault said, “You should go and take shelter. I will stay here.” He made the sign of the cross and began to murmur prayers in Latin.