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Authors: Giles Milton
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So sudden was the onslaught, and of such ferocity, that it was over in seconds. Captain van Beuningen was dead—as were the cream of his crew—and the only survivors were those who had remained in the boat. They could scarcely believe what they had just witnessed and were so fearful for their lives that they made a dash back to the
Liefde
to break the terrible news. “[They] did long waite to see if any of our men did come agein,” wrote Adams, “but being all slaine, our boates returned [with] … sorrowfull newes of all our men’s deathes.”
Liefde
to break the terrible news. “[They] did long waite to see if any of our men did come agein,” wrote Adams, “but being all slaine, our boates returned [with] … sorrowfull newes of all our men’s deathes.”
Adams was distraught. He had lost his closest friends in the ambush, “among which was my brother Thomas.” For more than seventeen months these men had lived together as companions in the confined quarters of their vessel. Now, at a single stroke, they had suffered a devastating blow to their confidence, as well as to their ability to continue with their voyage. The
Liefde
was now seriously undermanned and morale had never been lower. “[It] was very much lamented of us all,” wrote Adams, “so that we had skarce so many men left as could wind up our anker.”
Liefde
was now seriously undermanned and morale had never been lower. “[It] was very much lamented of us all,” wrote Adams, “so that we had skarce so many men left as could wind up our anker.”
When it was clear that there were no more survivors, the crew sailed “in great distresse” toward the offshore island of Santa Maria. Here, at last, there was good news awaiting them. “We found our Admiral [the
Hoop
],” wrote Adams, “whom, when we saw, our hearts were somewhat comforted.” But she, too, had been attacked by natives. “[We] found them in as great distrese as we, having lost their general, with seven and twenty of their men slaine at the island of Mocha.”
Hoop
],” wrote Adams, “whom, when we saw, our hearts were somewhat comforted.” But she, too, had been attacked by natives. “[We] found them in as great distrese as we, having lost their general, with seven and twenty of their men slaine at the island of Mocha.”
from De Ries van Mahu en de Cordes, Lindschoten Society, 1923
.
.
The Dutch fleet was attacked in the Magellan Straits (above) and on South America’s Pacific coast. The Liefde’s crew suffered a particularly brutal attack; twenty-three men were slaughtered within a few seconds.
It was time to make a decision. Everyone now sensed that they were not going to be reunited with the rest of their fleet. They also knew that they could not contemplate striking out across the Pacific without filling their holds with victuals. But they no longer had enough healthy men to risk another landing on this coast.
It was while they pondered their predicament that they were able to seize the initiative. Two Spaniards—possibly coastal guards—rowed across to the
Liefde
in order to discover where she was heading. They quizzed Adams and inspected the ship before declaring their intention of returning ashore. “But we would not let them,” wrote Adams, “ … whereat they were greatly offended.” Adams informed them that they would have to earn their freedom. “We showed them that we had extreame neede of victuals, and that if they would give us so many sheepe and so many beefes, they should goe on land.” The Spaniards were incensed but had little alternative but to comply. They arranged for large quantities of food to be brought to the vessels; so much, in fact, that the crew of the
Liefde
and
Hoop
were “for the most part recovered of their sicknesse.” At long last, the ships were in a position to continue with their voyage.
Liefde
in order to discover where she was heading. They quizzed Adams and inspected the ship before declaring their intention of returning ashore. “But we would not let them,” wrote Adams, “ … whereat they were greatly offended.” Adams informed them that they would have to earn their freedom. “We showed them that we had extreame neede of victuals, and that if they would give us so many sheepe and so many beefes, they should goe on land.” The Spaniards were incensed but had little alternative but to comply. They arranged for large quantities of food to be brought to the vessels; so much, in fact, that the crew of the
Liefde
and
Hoop
were “for the most part recovered of their sicknesse.” At long last, the ships were in a position to continue with their voyage.
Simon de Cordes’s first task was to find a replacement for Captain van Beuningen. He chose the able Jacob Quackernaek to take command of the
Liefde
, then summoned a more general meeting—attended by Adams and Shotten—in order to decide “what we should doe to make our voyage for the best profit of our merchants.” There were several possibilities. The most obvious was to head to the Spice Islands, the “spiceries” of the East Indies, where nutmeg and mace could be had for a song. This would please the financiers of the trip, since there was a huge profit to be reaped from spices, and it had the advantage that many of the
small islands and atolls were as yet uncontrolled by either Portuguese or Spanish. The Philippines was another option, although here they were likely to clash with the forces of Spain. The
Liefde
’s cargo finally settled the matter. Her hold was crammed with broadcloth, which was unlikely to find a market in the tropical climes of the Spice Islands. “We gathered … that the Mollucas and the most part of the East Indies were hot countreyes,” wrote Adams, “where woolen cloth would not be much accepted.”
Liefde
, then summoned a more general meeting—attended by Adams and Shotten—in order to decide “what we should doe to make our voyage for the best profit of our merchants.” There were several possibilities. The most obvious was to head to the Spice Islands, the “spiceries” of the East Indies, where nutmeg and mace could be had for a song. This would please the financiers of the trip, since there was a huge profit to be reaped from spices, and it had the advantage that many of the
small islands and atolls were as yet uncontrolled by either Portuguese or Spanish. The Philippines was another option, although here they were likely to clash with the forces of Spain. The
Liefde
’s cargo finally settled the matter. Her hold was crammed with broadcloth, which was unlikely to find a market in the tropical climes of the Spice Islands. “We gathered … that the Mollucas and the most part of the East Indies were hot countreyes,” wrote Adams, “where woolen cloth would not be much accepted.”
Such material would be of far greater value to people in more northerly climes, where the weather was colder and the winters were harsh. The more the men pondered their destination, the more they realized that there was an obvious answer. It lay to the northeast of China—a kingdom of fabled riches. “At last it was resolved to go for Japan,” wrote Adams, who added that “woollen cloth was in great estimation in that island.” The proposal was put to the sea-battered crew, who had no desire to return home through the Straits of Magellan, “wherefore we all agreed to go for Japan.”
The men might have thought twice about such a voyage if they had had any notion of the distances involved. It had taken them more than a year to traverse the Atlantic and their passage had been aided by favorable trade winds. The voyage to Japan involved crossing the world’s largest ocean, whose currents and winds remained a total mystery. When Ferdinand Magellan had crossed the Pacific, he and his crew had survived only by eating stewed mice and sawdust. The chronicler of the voyage had concluded his account with a stark warning: “I do not think that anyone for the future will venture upon a similar voyage.”
The
Liefde
and the
Hoop
set sail into the unknown at the end of November 1599. The weather was kind at first and they made better progress than anyone had dared hope. “[We] passed the line equinoctiall with a faire wind,” wrote Adams, “which continued good for diverse months.” This enabled the two vessels to keep together
until they reached “certaine islands”—lost somewhere in the mid-Pacific—where the inhabitants were said to be “men-eaters.”
Liefde
and the
Hoop
set sail into the unknown at the end of November 1599. The weather was kind at first and they made better progress than anyone had dared hope. “[We] passed the line equinoctiall with a faire wind,” wrote Adams, “which continued good for diverse months.” This enabled the two vessels to keep together
until they reached “certaine islands”—lost somewhere in the mid-Pacific—where the inhabitants were said to be “men-eaters.”
The sight of land proved too much for one group of sea-weary men. Broken by their experiences of the voyage and fearful of the empty ocean, they made a secret vow to chance their luck on this remote island rather than sailing any farther on the rotting
Liefde
. “Coming neare these islands … eight of our men, being in the pinnesse, ranne from us.” Their flight caught Adams and his crew by surprise. They were too weak to chase after them and so they abandoned the men to their fate. Adams recorded that they were, “as we suppose, … eaten of the wild men.” The place of their landfall has long remained a mystery, for neither Adams nor his captain had any idea of their position, but it is possible that the
Liefde
had unknowingly reached (and discovered) Hawaii, more than 179 years before Captain Cook. When the English missionary William Ellis landed in Hawaii in 1822, he was told that a boatload of sailors had pitched up at those shores long before Cook’s arrival. These men had been kindly received by the native islanders, had married Hawaiian maidens, and had been made honorary chieftains.
Liefde
. “Coming neare these islands … eight of our men, being in the pinnesse, ranne from us.” Their flight caught Adams and his crew by surprise. They were too weak to chase after them and so they abandoned the men to their fate. Adams recorded that they were, “as we suppose, … eaten of the wild men.” The place of their landfall has long remained a mystery, for neither Adams nor his captain had any idea of their position, but it is possible that the
Liefde
had unknowingly reached (and discovered) Hawaii, more than 179 years before Captain Cook. When the English missionary William Ellis landed in Hawaii in 1822, he was told that a boatload of sailors had pitched up at those shores long before Cook’s arrival. These men had been kindly received by the native islanders, had married Hawaiian maidens, and had been made honorary chieftains.
The loss of eight men was a serious blow to the morale of the
Liefde
’s remaining crew. Soon after, the weather grew tempestuous and brought to an end their run of good luck. “We had a wounderous storme of winde as ever I was in,” wrote Adams, “with much raine.” As the wind screeched through the rigging and the waves formed huge peaks and troughs, the men grew fearful for their safety. Their vessels were in a poor state of repair and were not built to withstand such a ferocious battering from the sea. The gale blew even harder, pitching the ships into precarious angles. Suddenly, there was a cry from the lookout on the
Liefde.
The
Hoop
had keeled over and her lights had gone out. Within seconds, her silhouette had disappeared beneath the surface.
She had vanished, swallowed in one almighty gulp of the sea. She was never seen again, and no survivors were ever found.
Liefde
’s remaining crew. Soon after, the weather grew tempestuous and brought to an end their run of good luck. “We had a wounderous storme of winde as ever I was in,” wrote Adams, “with much raine.” As the wind screeched through the rigging and the waves formed huge peaks and troughs, the men grew fearful for their safety. Their vessels were in a poor state of repair and were not built to withstand such a ferocious battering from the sea. The gale blew even harder, pitching the ships into precarious angles. Suddenly, there was a cry from the lookout on the
Liefde.
The
Hoop
had keeled over and her lights had gone out. Within seconds, her silhouette had disappeared beneath the surface.
She had vanished, swallowed in one almighty gulp of the sea. She was never seen again, and no survivors were ever found.
Adams was too preoccupied to dwell upon the loss of the
Hoop.
In typically stoic, understated fashion, he wrote just four words about the disaster: “We were,” he said, “very sorry.” His crew was rather more distraught, for they feared the same fate. Their only hope was that Adams could steer them through the storm.
Hoop.
In typically stoic, understated fashion, he wrote just four words about the disaster: “We were,” he said, “very sorry.” His crew was rather more distraught, for they feared the same fate. Their only hope was that Adams could steer them through the storm.
The
Liefde
was now alone on an empty ocean and the men had absolutely no idea of their position. Their maps and charts were hopelessly inadequate, rendering their equipment useless, and they continued to sail in what they believed to be a northwesterly direction. “We proceeded on our former intention for Japan,” wrote Adams, “ … but founde it not, by reason that it lieth false in all the cardes and mappes and globes.” The men were by now suffering the most terrible deprivations. They were half starved, sick with scurvy, and many were troubled by acute dysentery. “Great was the misery we were in,” wrote Adams, “having no more but nine or ten able men to go or creepe upon their knees.” Sickness hit indiscriminate of rank or status, “our captain and all the rest looking every hour to die.”
Liefde
was now alone on an empty ocean and the men had absolutely no idea of their position. Their maps and charts were hopelessly inadequate, rendering their equipment useless, and they continued to sail in what they believed to be a northwesterly direction. “We proceeded on our former intention for Japan,” wrote Adams, “ … but founde it not, by reason that it lieth false in all the cardes and mappes and globes.” The men were by now suffering the most terrible deprivations. They were half starved, sick with scurvy, and many were troubled by acute dysentery. “Great was the misery we were in,” wrote Adams, “having no more but nine or ten able men to go or creepe upon their knees.” Sickness hit indiscriminate of rank or status, “our captain and all the rest looking every hour to die.”
Adams stopped writing any notes, and the rest of his crew also fell silent. They were too debilitated—or too ill—to put quill to paper. Toward the end of March they came within sight of an island called Una Colonna, possibly one of the desolate Bonin Islands, “at which time many of our men were sick again.” The effort of manning the ship’s boat and rowing ashore to this barren speck of land was now beyond them; after four months and twenty-two days spent crossing the Pacific, even Adams was approaching despair. He was convinced that if they did not reach land within a few days they would surely die.
On April 12, 1600, more than twenty months after setting sail from Rotterdam, Adams awoke to an almost mystical sight. There
was a mauve smudge on the horizon that grew more and more distinct as the day progressed. Adams called to his men; he stirred the sick and carried them on deck. At first he scarcely dared to believe his eyes, but he soon became convinced that they were nearing their goal.
was a mauve smudge on the horizon that grew more and more distinct as the day progressed. Adams called to his men; he stirred the sick and carried them on deck. At first he scarcely dared to believe his eyes, but he soon became convinced that they were nearing their goal.
The breezes that had been against them for so long suddenly shifted and nudged them toward land. The coastline grew closer, until the men could discern cliffs, trees, and a large cluster of temples. “So we, in safety, let fall our ancker, about a league from a place called Bungo.” Almost sixty years after Pinto, but in the very same harbor, William Adams had reached Japan.
IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER
T
HE
LIEFDE
’S CREW was too weak to row ashore. They were racked with scurvy and dysentery and their bones ached from the lack of food. Of the twenty-four men still alive, most were unable to stand and some were on the verge of death. “There was no more but six,” wrote Adams, “besides myselfe, that could stand upon his feet.” When he saw a band of fearsome-looking Japanese heading toward the
Liefde
, he knew that resistance was hopeless, for none of the men had the strength to load a musket. “We suffered them to come abord of us,” he wrote, “not being able to resist them.”
HE
LIEFDE
’S CREW was too weak to row ashore. They were racked with scurvy and dysentery and their bones ached from the lack of food. Of the twenty-four men still alive, most were unable to stand and some were on the verge of death. “There was no more but six,” wrote Adams, “besides myselfe, that could stand upon his feet.” When he saw a band of fearsome-looking Japanese heading toward the
Liefde
, he knew that resistance was hopeless, for none of the men had the strength to load a musket. “We suffered them to come abord of us,” he wrote, “not being able to resist them.”
The Japanese boarding party was quite unlike the “savages” and “wilde men” that Adams and his crew had met elsewhere on their voyage. These fearsome warriors were small but stocky, yet were elegantly attired and immaculately coiffured. They cut quite a dash as they clambered aboard the
Liefde
. Adams himself had no opportunity to record his first impressions, but most newcomers
to Japan were left feeling that they were distinctly underdressed in comparison with the Japanese. This strange-looking race wore their hair neatly plucked at the front, revealing shiny pates, but tied into a long bushy lock at the back. This was smeared with scented oil and tucked into a bun. They wore exquisite silken robes, “after the fashion of a nightgown,” and were armed with terrifying curved swords so sharp that they could slice through bone. Fortunately for the crew of the
Liefde
, on this occasion they kept them firmly in their scabbards. Indeed, they showed no interest in Adams and his crew and ignored the groaning men on deck. “The people offered us no hurt,” recalled Adams, “but stole all things that they could steal.” Their pillaging was carried out systematically and with considerable care. The
Liefde
was turned inside out and the choicest items were pilfered by the raiders. “All thinges was taken out,” wrote Adams, “ … what was good or worth the taking was carried away.” What grieved him most was the loss of all his sea charts and navigational equipment—the tools of his trade. Only his prized world map, secreted in the
Liefde
’s great cabin, remained undiscovered.
Liefde
. Adams himself had no opportunity to record his first impressions, but most newcomers
to Japan were left feeling that they were distinctly underdressed in comparison with the Japanese. This strange-looking race wore their hair neatly plucked at the front, revealing shiny pates, but tied into a long bushy lock at the back. This was smeared with scented oil and tucked into a bun. They wore exquisite silken robes, “after the fashion of a nightgown,” and were armed with terrifying curved swords so sharp that they could slice through bone. Fortunately for the crew of the
Liefde
, on this occasion they kept them firmly in their scabbards. Indeed, they showed no interest in Adams and his crew and ignored the groaning men on deck. “The people offered us no hurt,” recalled Adams, “but stole all things that they could steal.” Their pillaging was carried out systematically and with considerable care. The
Liefde
was turned inside out and the choicest items were pilfered by the raiders. “All thinges was taken out,” wrote Adams, “ … what was good or worth the taking was carried away.” What grieved him most was the loss of all his sea charts and navigational equipment—the tools of his trade. Only his prized world map, secreted in the
Liefde
’s great cabin, remained undiscovered.
He was desperate to speak with the raiders in order to beg them for food and fresh water. He attempted to converse in Dutch and Portuguese, both of which he spoke tolerably well, but the men looked at him with blank eyes and barked something in Japanese. Adams gave up trying to communicate, “neither of us both understanding the one the other.” The only word he could make out was “Bungo”—the fiefdom in which he and his men had ended their harrowing voyage.
Much had changed in Bungo since Pinto’s arrival almost sixty years earlier. Otomo Yoshiaki was long dead and his family had suffered a string of calamities and military setbacks. The fiefdom was no longer intact, for the Otomo lands had been partitioned between quarreling minor princelets. War had become endemic and violence a way of life. But luck—for once—was on Adams’s side. The local brigand who controlled this particular stretch of
coast was intrigued to learn of the arrival of the
Liefde
. When he heard that the ship had been ransacked, he ordered discipline to be restored and, belatedly, “sent soldiers aboard to see that none of the marchants’ goods were stolen.” Some of the pilfered cargo was returned and the perpetrators were punished for their crime.
coast was intrigued to learn of the arrival of the
Liefde
. When he heard that the ship had been ransacked, he ordered discipline to be restored and, belatedly, “sent soldiers aboard to see that none of the marchants’ goods were stolen.” Some of the pilfered cargo was returned and the perpetrators were punished for their crime.
The brigand also recognized that the near-derelict vessel was in no condition to remain offshore, where her rotten timbers were at the mercy of the winds and tide. Three days after arriving in Japan, “our shippe was brought into a good harbour, there to abide till the principall king of the whole island had news of us, and untill it was knowne what his will was to doe with us.” Adams and his men suddenly found themselves treated with great friendship. They were given the use of a little house on the foreshore, “where we landed all our sick men and had all refreshing that was needfull.” For some, the fresh fruit and clean water came too late. Three of the weakest men died shortly after being landed and several more were so seriously ill that they were unable to eat. “[They] lay for a long time sick,” wrote Adams, “and in the end also died.” The eighteen remaining crew members made a surprisingly rapid recovery and were soon congratulating themselves on having survived their terrible ordeal. After a voyage of unspeakable hardship, they had met with friendship on the farthest side of the world.
Or so they thought. What they did not realize was that they had landed in a stronghold of Portuguese Jesuits who had spent half a century propagating their faith in this part of Japan. These fanatical monks were led by the aristocratic Alessandro Valignano, a charming yet ruthless individual who had supreme authority over every Jesuit mission, and every monk, from the Cape of Good Hope to Nagasaki Bay. He harbored a passionate hatred for “hereticke” Protestants and had spent more than twenty years ensuring that Catholicism was the only outside faith to gain a foothold in Japan.
Valignano had first arrived in Japan in 1579, bringing with him
deep-seated prejudices that he had picked up elsewhere in the East. His previous attitude toward native populations had been one of contempt. He opined that “dusky races are very stupid and vicious, and of the basest spirits,” and claimed that most were “bestial” and scarcely human. But Valignano found himself swallowing his words when he landed in this distant country. He was stunned by the sophistication of the Japanese and found himself admitting that this strange race surpassed the Portuguese in both learning and manners. “We who come from Europe find ourselves as veritable children … [and] have to learn how to eat, sit, converse, dress, act politely and so on.” He was no less amazed by the complex etiquette of the Japanese and described the land as “another world, another way of life, other customs and other laws.” In his most extraordinary admission, he confessed that “the fact that there are contradictions and differences between Japanese and European customs does not mean … that they are in any sense barbarians, for barbarians—truly—they are not.”
deep-seated prejudices that he had picked up elsewhere in the East. His previous attitude toward native populations had been one of contempt. He opined that “dusky races are very stupid and vicious, and of the basest spirits,” and claimed that most were “bestial” and scarcely human. But Valignano found himself swallowing his words when he landed in this distant country. He was stunned by the sophistication of the Japanese and found himself admitting that this strange race surpassed the Portuguese in both learning and manners. “We who come from Europe find ourselves as veritable children … [and] have to learn how to eat, sit, converse, dress, act politely and so on.” He was no less amazed by the complex etiquette of the Japanese and described the land as “another world, another way of life, other customs and other laws.” In his most extraordinary admission, he confessed that “the fact that there are contradictions and differences between Japanese and European customs does not mean … that they are in any sense barbarians, for barbarians—truly—they are not.”
details from early-seventeenth-century Namban byobu by Kano Nizen, Kobe
.
.
The Jesuits made Nagasaki their center of operations (above) and spent years learning Japanese customs and manners. By 1600
,
they had made numerous converts and even infiltrated the court.
,
they had made numerous converts and even infiltrated the court.
Valignano discovered that the Jesuit mission was in a poor state and had made very few converts. He was quick to recognize that its greatest problem lay in the attitude of its monks toward the Japanese. Most were a great deal less cultured than those they were trying to convert, and were incapable of explaining their doctrine and faith. The Japanese were particularly bemused by the monks’ interest in the poor and sick, and could not understand why anyone would wish to care for the lowliest stratum of society. When the Jesuits founded a leper hospital in Bungo, the local nobility recoiled in disgust. Lepers were
yeta
, or outcasts—“the most base, low and vile people in Japan.” Charity played no part in Japanese society, and many concluded that the monks had some ulterior motive for devoting themselves to caring for its jetsam. It later became a commonplace that “beggars were given a meal if they expressed the desire to become members of their religion,” while nobles were “tricked with new-fangled bric-à-brac … and flattered with gifts of baubles and beads.”
yeta
, or outcasts—“the most base, low and vile people in Japan.” Charity played no part in Japanese society, and many concluded that the monks had some ulterior motive for devoting themselves to caring for its jetsam. It later became a commonplace that “beggars were given a meal if they expressed the desire to become members of their religion,” while nobles were “tricked with new-fangled bric-à-brac … and flattered with gifts of baubles and beads.”
Valignano understood that such misunderstandings were causing immense damage to the Jesuit cause. He also realized that if the monks wanted to convert the people and influence the rulers, there was only one solution—one that was as simple as it was shocking. The Jesuits must go native. They must wear Japanese clothes, eat Japanese food, and adopt the highly complex rules of etiquette in this hierarchical community. In short, they must learn to comport themselves with polish and finesse, and adopt the Japanese virtues of moderation, composure, and cleanliness.
Valignano knew that this would require great willpower on the part of his monks and would demand that they forgo many pleasures
that they took for granted. To help them in their task, he wrote a handbook of decorum, his
Advertimentos
, which set out their social behavior. This was followed by more practical advice in his
Sumario
and
Historia del Principio
. “I prohibited whatever damaged the credit and authority of the fathers,” he wrote, “ … [and] things which would be considered grossly unsuited to their dignity.” His first rule was to forbid the raising of pigs and goats and the slaughtering of cows, noting that “the Japanese have a great revulsion from eating any kind of meat.” Roasted pork and braised beef no longer filled the cooking pots in the monastic refectory attached to the Santa Casa da Misericordia in Nagasaki. Henceforth, the Jesuits were to eat a Japanese diet that consisted of “salted or raw fish, limes, sea snails and such bitter or salty things.” The monks were disgusted by raw fish, finding it “no less abhorrent to us Europeans than our food … to the Japanese.” But Valignano was in no mood for compromise. He advised his monks to intone the Te Deum while crunching their sea snails, reminding them that “they must not weaken and be easily overcome by initial repugnance of these [foods].”
that they took for granted. To help them in their task, he wrote a handbook of decorum, his
Advertimentos
, which set out their social behavior. This was followed by more practical advice in his
Sumario
and
Historia del Principio
. “I prohibited whatever damaged the credit and authority of the fathers,” he wrote, “ … [and] things which would be considered grossly unsuited to their dignity.” His first rule was to forbid the raising of pigs and goats and the slaughtering of cows, noting that “the Japanese have a great revulsion from eating any kind of meat.” Roasted pork and braised beef no longer filled the cooking pots in the monastic refectory attached to the Santa Casa da Misericordia in Nagasaki. Henceforth, the Jesuits were to eat a Japanese diet that consisted of “salted or raw fish, limes, sea snails and such bitter or salty things.” The monks were disgusted by raw fish, finding it “no less abhorrent to us Europeans than our food … to the Japanese.” But Valignano was in no mood for compromise. He advised his monks to intone the Te Deum while crunching their sea snails, reminding them that “they must not weaken and be easily overcome by initial repugnance of these [foods].”
Valignano also ordered that kitchens and refectories were to be cleaned on a regular basis. Dishes were to be scrubbed and table coverings put in to soak. The monks, moreover, were to improve their appalling table manners. The fastidious way in which the Japanese ate their meals had fascinated the Portuguese ever since Pinto had dined with the lord of Bungo. Now, the Jesuits were also forced to eat with chopsticks, a torture for the older generation, who complained bitterly. “You must first take the sticks in one hand and tap the table with their points in order to adjust them properly,” wrote one disgruntled padre. “Then you must raise the
goki
[large bowl] and take three morsels of rice, and then you must put the bowl on the table. Back on the table, I say, and nowhere else.” And so the meal slowly progressed, mouthful after painstaking mouthful, until all the food was consumed. Valignano
also ordered the monks to replace their tin crockery with elegant Japanese tableware: black or vermilion lacquered bowls “made of wood and fashioned on a lathe.”
goki
[large bowl] and take three morsels of rice, and then you must put the bowl on the table. Back on the table, I say, and nowhere else.” And so the meal slowly progressed, mouthful after painstaking mouthful, until all the food was consumed. Valignano
also ordered the monks to replace their tin crockery with elegant Japanese tableware: black or vermilion lacquered bowls “made of wood and fashioned on a lathe.”
The Jesuits were also urged to adopt the Japanese mode of squatting on their heels while eating, which must have been physical torment for the statuesque Valignano. But he did not complain, nor did he expect to hear dissenting voices from his monks. “I request and require,” he wrote, “[that] all my dearest padres … should win control over themselves in everything to the foods in Japan.” Only when the Japanese servants had left for the night were the monks allowed to eat meat, and even then they were to be careful “that scraps of bones are not let fall upon the table.” Valignano warned his monks that the Japanese had extremely sensitive noses and that “soup made of beef is to be put in plates, and not in [lacquer] bowls, so that the cups and soup-bowls be free of smell when Japanese afterward eat in our residences.”
Valignano was not content that his monks adopted merely the outward observances of the Japanese. He persuaded them to think and behave as if they were Japanese, to act with dignity and stoic decorum. “[They] must take great care not to show impatience, anger or irritation, nor to give any sign of any other passion in their speech or countenance, because in the eyes of the Japanese, such things greatly detract from the credit and respect in which they are wont to hold the fathers.”
Aware of the opprobrium that had followed the opening of the Jesuit leper hospital, Valignano now decreed that hospitals should accept only those from the highest levels of society. And, since Japanese society was strictly hierarchical, Valignano took the startling decision to form his own monks into Japanese-style ranks, with each individual aware of his place in the hierarchy and the manner in which he should speak to his superiors. Slowly, painfully, and often against their will, the Jesuits learned to imitate their hosts. When a newly arrived monk entered the Nagasaki
seminary in 1596, he was shocked at the extent to which the Jesuits had adapted to their adopted homeland. “They so imitate the Japanese,” he wrote, “that they wear their clothes, speak their language [and] eat like them on the floor.” He was even more startled to see them “eat with a small stick, observing the same ceremonies as the Japanese do themselves,” and added that “they have compiled a book entitled
The Customs and Ceremonies of Japan
, to be read to the pupils in the seminary.”
seminary in 1596, he was shocked at the extent to which the Jesuits had adapted to their adopted homeland. “They so imitate the Japanese,” he wrote, “that they wear their clothes, speak their language [and] eat like them on the floor.” He was even more startled to see them “eat with a small stick, observing the same ceremonies as the Japanese do themselves,” and added that “they have compiled a book entitled
The Customs and Ceremonies of Japan
, to be read to the pupils in the seminary.”
BOOK: Samurai William: The Englishman Who Opened Japan
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