Matteo Ricci (26 page)

Ricci gladly agreed and drew a new map of the world divided into panels, which was printed in 1600
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with a preface by Wu Zuohai as the
Shanhai yudi quantu
(“Complete Map of the Mountains and Seas”), the same title as the previous edition. Twice the size of the one drawn in Zhaoqing in 1584, it contained various new toponyms. For the first time, there was a name for Europe (
Ou-lo-ba
) and one for France, but still no Chinese name for Italy.

As mentioned above, the value of Ricci’s map lay in its presentation of the five continents. From a strictly technical standpoint, however, not all of the characteristics of his geographic works were innovations for the Chinese, who had themselves produced many of excellent quality. Good maps indicating the level of the terrain with respect to a horizontal plane were already in use in China as early as the Tang era in the eighth century, when the measurement of degrees of latitude was also known. The earliest surviving examples of Chinese cartography are two maps carved on a stone in 1136, during the Song era, and now in the Shaanxi Provincial Museum, Xi’an, namely the
Yujitu
(“Map of the Tracks of Yu”) and the
Huayitu
(“Map of China and the Barbarian Countries”), a very detailed map of the world showing over five hundred named localities, thirteen rivers with their tributaries, and four mountain ranges.

The two works, in which China is represented graphically while other countries are only indicated with captions, use a grid system to pinpoint the different localities and are regarded by experts as far more technically advanced than European maps of the same period.
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The most famous Chinese cartographer was Zhu Siben, who lived in the Yuan era and produced the
Yutu
(“Terrestrial Map”). As reconstructed by historians on the basis of later reproductions, this atlas was influenced by Muslim, Persian, and Arabic cartographers, employed the grid system, and included maps of the Chinese provinces with the major rivers and sea lanes as well as some regions of Central Asia. Reprinted in 1555 as the
Guangyutu
(“Enlarged Atlas”), it appeared in successive revised editions until the nineteenth century.

It is, however, misleading to compare Chinese and European cartography solely on the basis of the techniques employed or the amount of data given, as they differed in terms of overall conception. While Europeans strove for the highest possible degree of topographical accuracy, describing the conformation of the terrain and the level of the land with respect to the horizontal plane and giving the altitudes of mountains, the Chinese concentrated above all on describing the appearance of the territory and devoted a great deal of space to written notes of a geographic, naturalistic, ethnographic, and geomantic character, as well as information of use for administrative purposes. Moreover, even though the earliest Chinese maps printed with wood blocks date back to the twelfth century, most of those from the Ming era were still drawn with the brush, were sometimes embellished with short poems and exercises in calligraphy, and displayed great attention to aesthetic considerations instead of the contemporary European focus on technical and quantitative aspects.

After careful examination of Chinese maps, Ricci decided in accordance with the strategy of cultural accommodation to adapt to the local style in order to present his message in the way most likely to please its intended targets. From the second edition on, he therefore included numerous annotations in the margins. In addition to disseminating elements of cosmography and geography, the written part also provided information about the duration of the day and night in the course of the year, the distance between the earth and the planets of the nine heavens, and descriptions of the climatic characteristics of different parts of the world.

The Nanjing edition enjoyed enormous success and circulation far beyond all expectations, numerous copies even being sent to Japan. Guo Qingluo, the governor of the central-southern province of Guizhou, produced a reduced version four years later with a preface celebrating Ricci’s complete integration into Chinese society: “Li Madou has lived in the Middle Kingdom for many years. He is no longer a foreigner but Chinese, because he belongs to China.”

The Journey to Beijing:
The Meeting with the Fearsome Ma Tang

While Ricci continued his intense social life and cultural exchanges with the
shidafu
without managing to make any converts among them, proselytism began to prove moderately successful in other social classes. The first to adopt the faith in Nanjing were a 70-year-old retired soldier that Ricci called Chin, who was baptized with the name of Paul and was known as Chin Paul by the missionaries, his firstborn son Martin, and other members of their family. Shortly after his conversion, Chin Paul handed over to Li Madou for burning baskets full of Buddhist and Taoist wooden idols that he had kept at home to protect the family. Instead of destroying them, the Jesuit sent them to Manuel Dias, the rector of the College of the Mother of God in Macao. As he wrote in his history of the mission, using one of the military metaphors of which the Society of Jesus was so fond, he considered them the “spoils of the first battle”
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won in Nanjing.

Even though the prospects for evangelization looked promising, Ricci knew that it was impossible to achieve the great numbers of converts obtained in a short time by Jesuit missions in various other parts of the world and expected of him by the religious authorities. As he wrote to Girolamo Costa, “There [in Rome] they would like news of some great conversion in China. You must know that I and all the others here dream of nothing else day and night. It is for this that we have left our native land, those dear to us and our friends, that we wear Chinese clothing and footgear, and that we do not speak or eat or drink or live at home other than after the Chinese fashion.”
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Ricci knew he would have to wait: “The time of our stay in China is not the time of harvest or even sowing but of clearing wild forests and fighting with the beasts and poisonous snakes that live in them.” Thinking of the future, he foresaw that his pioneering work would enable the missionaries following in his footsteps to obtain better results and claimed the recognition he felt was his due: “Others will come by God’s grace and write of conversions and the fervor of the Christians, but it must be known that it was first necessary to do what we are doing now and that we are entitled to most of the merit. . . . China is very different from other lands, and the people, being judicious and more inclined to learning than to warfare, are very intelligent. . . . There is no memory of any foreigner ever living here as we are now.”

Now forty-seven years old, Ricci was well aware of the difficulties still to be faced. Despite his exceptional energy that never ceased to surprise his companions, he felt sudden waves of fatigue at times, the ankle injured many years before was becoming more painful than usual, and it took more effort to carry out his normal obligations: “The trials of this arduous undertaking are such that I can hardly look forward to a long old age.” Every time he feared he might succumb to fatigue, however, he managed to pull himself together and continue his preparations for the journey to Beijing. It was becoming urgent to set off for the capital and secure delivery of the memorial drawn up in Nanchang, as there was some risk of the emperor being informed that a foreigner had gifts for him and ordering them to be delivered without granting the missionaries an audience.

Since the funds at his disposal were insufficient to finish paying for the house and cover the expense of the journey, Lazzaro Cattaneo was sent to Macao to ask for help, but he found the coffers of the Jesuit college empty when he got there. The silver earmarked for the missionaries in China had gone down with the ship bringing it from Japan. Well aware that the journey to Beijing constituted the climax of seventeen years of work in China, Father Dias dispatched a courier to Nanjing with a bill of exchange and set about soliciting donations from the Portuguese merchants. Having taken delivery of another clock and a religious painting for the emperor, together with prisms, hourglasses, silk brocade, and precious books as gifts for the officials of the imperial court, Cattaneo returned to Nanjing in March 1600 with a 28-year-old Spanish Jesuit named Diego de Pantoja, initially assigned to the Japan mission but diverted to China with a view to the important mission in the capital.

It proved impossible to cash the bill of exchange, but the amount of
silver raised in Macao was sufficient to cover expenses, and the missionar
ies con
centrated on their preparations. Ricci decided to leave for Beijing with Pantoja and the Chinese lay brothers Sebastião Fernandes and Manuel Pereira. Cattaneo was to remain in Nanjing, where he would be joined by João da Rocha, while João Soerio was to move to Nanchang.

Knowing that the gifts for Wanli were his strongest card, Ricci decided to have the large clock, the showpiece of the collection, embellished by a team of local craftsmen highly skilled in wood carving and decoration. The results were perfection itself. The case of the clock now rested on a base supported by four columns, and the bells that struck the hours and quarter hours were placed in a dome on top of it. The wood was adorned with a pattern of dragons in relief against a background of yellow, red, blue, green, and gold. The dial had new hands in the shape of an eagle’s beak, and the hours were written in Chinese characters. It was a small masterpiece that would have aroused the admiration of Renaissance craftsmen.

While the preparations were in full swing, news of the missionaries’ imminent departure for Beijing reached Nanchang, and the imperial prince of Jian’an persuaded the eunuch tax collector to use his influence to secure an audience with Wanli. He also sent a servant bearing gifts to Nanjing to inform his friends of this, but the man was robbed and killed by bandits on the way. Despite the prince’s kind intentions, Ricci was determined to accept no help from the
taijian
and managed to obtain a permit to travel to Beijing from the censor Zhu Shilin. In his haste to set off, however, he then rashly accepted the offer of passage on the northbound junk of a eunuch with a cargo of silk to deliver to the imperial court, who hoped to derive some profit from the presence on board of important figures bearing gifts for the emperor. They embarked on May 19, 1600, and Zhu Shilin came to see them off, wishing them every success and holding the prism that Ricci had left him as a gift.

The eunuch treated the Jesuits with great respect during the first part of the journey because they were friends of the censor and because their presence on board did prove advantageous. During the stops at the lock gates, as soon as it became known that the junk was carrying passengers with gifts for Wanli, many asked to see the wonderful objects intended for the Son of Heaven, and the eunuch allowed the masters of the vessels in front of his to do so in return for letting him go first. Many days ahead of schedule, the junk arrived at Jining in the Shandong province, where it was to stop for some time in order to take on fresh provisions and complete the mandatory bureaucratic procedures for continuation of the journey as far as Beijing.

Ricci informed the provincial governor Liu Dongxing that he would be paying the customary visit of courtesy, and the
guan
, who was aware of his reputation, sent a litter to bring him and received him with great cordiality. It was in his house that Ricci had his second meeting with the philosopher Li Zhi, who was passing through the town. On hearing of the missionaries’ intentions, the two dignitaries inspected the gifts for Wanli and read the memorial. Finding it unsuitable, they had a new one written in a more elegant style, which the governor presented to the Jesuit free of charge.

It was early in July 1600 when they reached Linqing, an obligatory stopping point for merchants sailing along the Great Canal and the location of a tax-gathering office whose director Ma Tang was the eunuch most feared in the whole of China. Sick and tired of his unjust demands, the local merchants had rebelled the previous year and set fire to the mansion where he lived, killing many of his assistants. The eunuch managed to escape in disguise, however, and returned to exercise his powers as before once the storm had passed.

The eunuch transporting the Jesuits went to pay the required homage to Ma Tang but was refused admittance. Irritated and determined to use any means whatsoever to attract the tax collector’s attention, he informed him that his passengers were bearing articles for the emperor and invited him to inspect them. Ricci realized that he was in danger and rushed to ask for help from the military intendant Zhong Wanlu, an acquaintance from his period in Zhaoqing. Even though no state official or army officer could give orders to Ma Tang, the intendant did possess sufficient authority to try and curb his excesses. Zhong Wanlu counseled great prudence and promised to help as much as possible. In the middle of this conversation, however, the Jesuit was informed that Ma Tang was on his way to the junk to inspect the gifts. When he finally got back to his companions, he found a richly decorated vessel “as big as a palace” already moored alongside. The eunuch inspected the gifts and took delivery of the memorial, which he promised to dispatch to Beijing himself. When Ricci objected that he would prefer to rely on the help of his influential mandarin friends, Ma Tang laughed at his naïveté and asserted that no one had more power than he did at the court of Wanli. Ricci realized he had fallen into a trap. It was clear that the eunuch would hold the missionaries hostage until he found some way to take advantage of their presence, even by simply appropriating the gifts. The only guarantee of their safety was the protection of the military intendant Zhong Wanlu, with whom Ma Tang preferred not to cross swords, at least for the time being.

The missionaries’ fate was now in the hands of the most feared of the
taijian
, and they transferred to another boat while the eunuch responsible for their plight was authorized to continue to Beijing and was granted exemption from customs duties in exchange for his precious information.