Silence (28 page)

30th November.

Fine. Early in the morning had the rudder and gunpowder carried on board and finished loading the rest of her cargo. At noon went to the ship, called the roll, handed over the documents. On returning to the Firm, entertained Bonjoy and his attendants with food and drink. Before dark the wind changed to the north-west and The Overschie did not depart.

5th December.

Towards noon the interpreter came to ask me the places of purchase of the goods we import. I answered him that China and Holland are the main sources of supply. He wanted to see if there would occur any inconvenience in case the Chinese cease to come over.

I have tried to obtain information about the apostate priests ever since I arrived in Japan. A Japanese called Thomas Araki is said to have stayed in Rome for a long time, serving at one time as chamberlain to the Pope. He confessed himself a Christian several times to the authorities, but the Governor took him as insane because of old age and left him as he was. Later he was hung in the pit for a whole day and night and apostatized. He died, however, with faith in his heart. At present there remain alive only two: one is a Portuguese called Chuan who used to be the Provincial of the Society of Jesus here and is blackhearted; the other a priest called Rodrigues from Lisbon, Portugal, who trod on a holy image at the Office of the Governor. Both of them live in Nagasaki at present.

9th December.

Offered Mr. Saburozaemon a small box containing the same assorted ointments as presented to the Emperor and Mr. Chikugo and other medicines, which was accepted with pleasure. The Governor is reported to have been overjoyed seeing the attached list explaining in Japanese the effect of each. A ship from Fuchow made port in the evening.

15th December.

Five Chinese junks cleared the port.

18th December.

Four Chinese junks cleared the port. Four or five of the crew of a junk from Nanking asked for permission to go to Tongking or Cochin on board another Chinese junk; but their request was refused by the Governor.

One of the house-owners in this island heard that Chuan the apostate was writing various things about the Dutch and the Portuguese, and sending it very soon to the Imperial Court. I almost wish death on that rascal who ignores God; our Firm will only get into trouble because of him. However God will protect us. In the afternoon two Japanese ships arrived in front of the Firm. We are to depart on board one, with the camels on the other. Towards evening the interpreters came to the Firm bringing with them servants to accompany us to Kamigata. One of them was a washerman who spoke some Dutch. I wanted him to come with us as a cook for the time being, but Denbe and Kichibe told me that the Governor had forbidden us to take anybody who spoke Dutch. I did not trust them, thinking that they were against his company simply because they wanted to have their own way in carrying on business. So I told them that the only indispensable languages for us were Japanese and Dutch, and that it was Portuguese, not Dutch, that was to be the most abhorred of languages. There had never been a single Christian, said I, who spoke Dutch, while I could name at once dozens of Christians who spoke Portuguese.

23rd December.

A small junk from Fuchow cleared the port. Towards evening a big Chinese junk arrived at the mouth of the Bay and, on account of the cross wind, was pulled to Nagasaki at night by a number of rowboats. Many people were on board with silk streamers flying, and were making a great noise with drums and charamelas.

It is Nagasaki and the first day of January. A man walks around the streets from house to house, beating on a drum that looks like a tom-tom and playing the flute, while women and children give him pennies from their places at the windows. This is the day when two or three beggars from around Funatsu and Kakuibara form a group and, wearing braid hats, go around singing a song called Yara.

January 2nd.

In the tradesmen’s houses the first business of the year begins, and they decorate their shops from early dawn, putting new curtains at the door. The peddler of sea cucumber visits each house.

January 3rd.

The elders of each town go to the magistrate’s office to ask for the fumie.

January 4th.

The fumie exercise is performed by the people. On this day, from Edo, from Imazakara, from Funatsu and from Fukuro, the otona and the leading citizens go to receive the fumie plaque and to check each house’s observance of the practice of trampling on the fumie. Every household has joined in cleaning the road, and quietly they are now all awaiting the arrival of the otona and the leading citizens. At last, from afar the announcement rings out in a voice that is like a song: ‘They have arrived … ’; and in each house, in a room adjoining the entrance, everyone in the family is lined up, attentively awaiting the ceremony that is to come. The fumie is between seven and eight inches in length and between four and six inches in breadth; and on it is fixed an image of the Virgin and Child. The first to trample is the master of the house, then his wife and the children. The mother, clasping her baby in her arms, must trample too. If there are any sick in the house, they also, in the presence of the officials, are made to touch the fumie with their feet from their position in bed.

On January 4th he suddenly received a summons from the magistrate’s office. The interpreter had arrived with a palanquin. There was no wind, but the sky was dull and cloudy; it was a rather cold day and (was it because of the ceremony of the
fumie
?
)
the sloping road was utterly changed from the previous day—for now it had become deadly still and quiet. At the magistrate’s office of Honhakata an official dressed in ceremonial clothes was waiting. ‘The magistrate awaits you,’ he said.

The Lord of Chikugo squatted erect in a room in which was placed a single brazier. Hearing the sound of footsteps, he turned full upon the priest that face with its big ears. Around his cheeks and lips there played a smile; but there was no laughter in his eyes. ‘Greetings!’ he said quietly.

This was his first meeting with the magistrate since his apostasy; but now he felt no sense of disgrace in the presence of this man. It was not against the Lord of Chikugo and the Japanese that he had fought. Gradually he had come to realize that it was against his own faith that he had fought. But he could scarcely expect the Lord of Chikugo to understand a thing like that.

‘It is a long time since we have met,’ nodded Inoue, stretching his hands over the brazier. ‘I suppose you are quite accustomed to Nagasaki now.’ He then went on to ask the priest if he were undergoing any discomfort; and, if so, he should at once make it known. The priest saw at once that the magistrate was trying to avoid any mention of the fact of his apostasy. Was this out of consideration for his feelings? or was it simply the self-confidence of the victor? The priest would sometimes raise his lowered eyes to scrutinize the other’s face, but the expressionless countenance of the old man told him nothing.

‘In a month’s time it would be good for you to go to Edo and live there. There is a house prepared for you there, father. It is a house in Kobinatacho, the place where I used to live.’

Had the Lord of Chikugo deliberately used the word ‘father’? It cut bitterly into the priest’s flesh.

‘Moreover, since you are going to spend your life in Japan, it would be good for you to take a Japanese name. Fortunately, a man named Okada San’emon has died. When you go to Edo, you can take his name just as it is.’

The magistrate spoke the words in a single breath, rubbing his hands as he held them over the brazier. ‘This man has a wife,’ he went on. ‘It would be inconvenient for you, father, to be always alone, so you can take her as your wife.’

The priest had been listening to these words with downcast eyes. Behind his eyelids arose the picture of a slope down which he kept slipping endlessly. To resist, to refuse—this was no longer possible. Whatever about adopting the name of a Japanese, he had had no intention of taking his wife.

‘Well?’ asked Inoue.

‘Very good.’ Shrugging his shoulders he nodded; and a feeling of exhausted resignation took possession of his whole being. ‘You underwent every kind of insult; if you alone now understand my feelings, that is enough. Even if the Christians and the clergy look upon me as a blot on the history of the mission, that no longer matters to me.’

‘I’ve told you. This country of Japan is not suited to the teaching of Christianity. Christianity simply cannot put down roots here.’ The priest remembered how Ferreira had said exactly the same thing at Saishoji.

‘Father, you were not defeated by me.’ The Lord of Chikugo looked straight into the ashes of the brazier as he spoke. ‘You were defeated by this swamp of Japan.’

‘No, no
 
…
’ Unconsciously the priest raised his voice as he spoke. ‘My struggle was with Christianity in my own heart.’

‘I wonder!’ A cynical smile passed over Inoue’s face. ‘I have been told that you said to Ferreira that the Christ of the
fumie
told you to trample—and that that was why you did so. But isn’t this just your self-deception? just a cloak of your weakness? I, Inoue, cannot believe that these are truly Christian words.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you think,’ said the priest, lowering his eyes and putting both hands on his knees.

‘You may deceive other people, but not me,’ answered Inoue in a cold voice. ‘Previously I have asked the question to other fathers: What is the difference between the mercy of the Christian God and that of the Buddha? For in Japan salvation is from the mercy of the Buddha upon whom people depend out of their hopeless weakness. And one father gave a clear answer: the salvation that Christianity speaks of is different; for Christian salvation is not just a question of relying on God—in addition the believer must retain with all his might a strength of heart. But it is precisely in this point that the teaching has slowly been twisted and change in this swamp called Japan.’

Christianity is not what you take it to be
 
…
! The priest wanted to shout this out; but the words stuck in his throat with the realization that no matter what he said no one would ever understand his present feelings—no one, not Inoue, not the interpreter. Hands on knees, his eyes blinking, he sat listening to the words of the magistrate in silence.

‘You probably don’t know,’ went on Inoue, ‘but in Goto and Ikitsuki, large numbers of Christian farmers still remain. But we have no desire to apprehend them.’

‘And why not?’ asked the interpreter.

‘Because the roots have been cut. If from the four corners of the world men like this father were to come once more, we would have to apprehend the Christians again,’ said the magistrate with a laugh. ‘But we no longer have any fear of that. If the root is cut, the sappling withers and the leaves die. The proof of this is that the God whom the peasants of Goto and Ikitsuki secretly serve has gradually changed so as to be no longer like the Christian God at all.’

Raising his head, the priest looked into the magistrate’s face where he saw a forced smile on the cheeks and around the lips. But the eyes were not laughing.

‘The Christianity you brought to Japan has changed its form and has become a strange thing,’ said the Lord of Chikugo as he heaved a sigh from the depths of his bosom. ‘Japan is that kind of country; it can’t be helped. Yes, father
 
…
’

The magistrate’s sigh was genuine, and his voice was filled with painful resignation. With a gesture of farewell he withdrew together with the interpreter.

The sky was as ever dull and cloudy; the road was cold. Carried along in the palanquin beneath the leaden sky, he gazed out vaguely at the expanse of sea, gray like the sky above. Soon he would be sent to Edo. The Lord of Chikugo had promised him a house, but this meant that he would be put in the Christian prison he had heard so much about; and it was in this prison that he would spend his life. Never again would he cross the leaden sea to return to his native land. When in Portugal he had thought that to become a missionary was to come to belong to that country. He had intended to go to Japan and to lead the same life as the Japanese Christians. Whatever about that, now it was indeed so. He had received the Japanese name Okada San’emon; he had become a Japanese. Okada San’emon! He laughed in a low voice as he uttered the name. Fate had given him everything he could have wished for, had given it to him in this cynical way. He, a celibate priest, would take a wife. (I bear no grudge against you! I am only laughing at man’s fate. My faith in you is different from what it was; but I love you still.)

Till evening he stood leaning against the window, watching the children. Holding the string attached to the kite, they ran up the slope, but there was no wind and the kite fell idly to the ground.

As evening came, there was a break in the clouds and the sun broke weakly through. The children, now tired of their play with the kite, knocked on the doors of the houses with bamboo sticks, singing:

‘Let’s beat the mole so that it will do no damage!

Bo-no-me, bo-no-me, let’s bless this house three times.

Let’s beat with a stick:

One, two, three, four.’

He tried to imitate the children’s song in a low voice; but he could not sing—and this thought made him sad. At the house beyond an old woman scolded the children; it was the old woman that brought him food twice each day.

It was evening. The breeze was blowing. As he strained his ears, he recalled the sound of the wind blowing through the grove in the days when he had been confined to prison. Then, as always happened at night, the face of Christ rose up in his heart. It was the face of the man upon whom he had trampled.