The Ming Rejection of the Portuguese Embassy of 1517 A Reassessment fujitani2016

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The Ming Rejection of the Portuguese Embassy of 1517: A Reassessment James Fujitani Journal of World History, Volume 27, Number 1, March 2016, pp. 87-102 (Article) Published by University of Hawai'i Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/jwh.2016.0073

For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/625984

Access provided by Tufts University (29 Jun 2018 01:57 GMT)

The Ming Rejection of the Por­tu­guese Embassy of 1517: A Reassessment james fujitani Azuza Pacific University

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n Au­gust 1517, a Por­tu­guese fleet led by Captain Fernão Peres de Andrade ar­rived off the coast of Guangzhou. It was a mo­ment of great sym­bolic im­por­tance, mark­ing the first of­fi­cial con­tact be­tween East Asia and Europe of the early mod­ern pe­ri­od. However, just a few years lat­er, in 1521, these ten­ta­tive re­la­tions were sev­ered when the Ming court de­cided to dis­miss the Por­tu­guese am­bas­sa­dors and ex­pel their fleet from Guangdong. The goal of this study is to re­con­sider the rea­sons for this re­jec­tion. The tra­di­tional list of ex­pla­na­tions was al­ready laid out in the six­teenth cen­tury by the great Por­tu­guese his­to­rian João de Barros. Barros wrote that the Ming court re­ceived two sets of let­ters condemning the Por­ tu­guese. One set was from the Sultan of Bintan, a vas­sal of the Ming, whom the Por­tu­guese had driven from the city of Melaka. He asked the em­peror for help against the in­vad­ers and warned of Eu­ro­pean treach­ ery.1 The other set was from the Ming of­fi­cials who had re­ceived the Por­ tu­guese fleet in Guangdong. They reported the ac­tions of the sec­ond cap­tain ma­jor, Simão de Andrade, who was build­ing a fort, obstruct­ ing lo­cal trade, and enslaving Chi­nese.2 In ad­di­tion, the em­bassy itself made sig­nif­i­cant dip­lo­matic er­rors, which an­gered the Court.3 Barros

  João de Barros, Da Asia (Lisboa : Na Regia Officina Typografica, 1777–1788), 3.6.1, 6.  Ibid., 3.6.2, esp. 16–17. 3  Ibid., 1–14. 1 2

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con­cluded that, based upon this ev­i­dence, the Chi­nese suspected the Por­tu­guese of plan­ning an in­va­sion and de­cided to re­ject the em­bas­sy.4 The six­teenth-cen­tury Chi­nese sources tell a sim­il­ar sto­ry, though with dif­fer­ent em­pha­ses. They also note the com­plaints of the Bintan am­bas­sa­dors and their warn­ings of Por­tu­guese in­cur­sion.5 Likewise, they speak of the crim­i­nal be­hav­ior of the Por­tu­guese sail­ors at Guangdong, ac­cus­ing them of plun­der­ing the coast­line and cannibalistically eat­ing chil­dren.6 With regard to the em­bassy itself, they par­tic­ul­arly ac­cuse a cer­tain Huozhe Yasan, pre­sum­ably a Chi­nese in­ter­pret­er, of vi­o­lent and ar­ro­gant be­hav­ior.7 All in all­, the Chi­nese sources re­port many of the same crimes as those of­fered by Barros. In the twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, schol­ars ex­panded upon these ear­lier his­ to­ries by sit­u­at­ing the Por­tu­guese ac­tions within the broader con­text of six­teenth-cen­tury Eu­ro­pean co­lo­nial­ism. In 1932, T’ien-Tsê Chang set the tone in his foun­da­tional work, Sino-Por­tu­guese Trade from 1514 to 1644. In a chap­ter en­ti­tled “The Causes of Sino-Por­tu­guese Clashes,” he wrote that Simão de Andrade treated the Chi­nese in the same man­ner as the Por­tu­guese had for some time treated all­the pepole of Asia. He built a fort, with­out per­mis­sion, on the island of Taman from whence he took op­por­tu­ni­ties of pil­lag­ing and extorting money from all­the ships bound from or to the ports of

 Ibid., 3.6.1, 5.   See, for ex­am­ple, Yang Congjian 嚴從簡, Shuyu zhouzilu 殊域周咨錄 (Beijing: Bei­ jing University, 1930), juan (卷) 9. The con­cerns of the Bintan em­bassy are also di­rectly noted in the Ming Court re­cords: Mingshilu: Wuzong shilu 明實錄武宗實錄, vol. 69 (Taipei: Zhongyang yanjiu yu­an, 1962–1968), juan 194. When quot­ing the Mingshilu, when­ever pos­ si­ble, I will use the trans­la­tion of Geoff Wade, Southeast Asia in the Ming Shi-lu: An Open Access Resource, (Singapore: Asia Research Institute and the Singapore E-Press, National University of Singapore, 2005), http://epress.nus.edu.sg/msl/entry/2466. 6   On the ru­mors of the Por­tu­guese be­ing can­ni­bals, see Qiong Zhang, Making the New World Their Own: Chi­nese Encounters with Je­suit Science in the Age of Discovery (Bos­ton: Brill, 2015), 268–282. 7   The mys­te­ri­ous and con­tro­ver­sial fig­ure of Huozhe Yasan is ex­am­ined in nu­mer­ous stud­ies. The foun­da­tional work is that of Paul Pelliot, “Le Ḫō(a et le Sayyid Ḥusain de l’Histoire des Ming,” T’oung Pao, 2nd ser., 38 no. 2 (1948): 86–87, n. 7. See also Lin Shuo 林硕, “Nanyang huaqiao Huozhe Yasan de sanchong mi 南洋华侨火者亚三的三重谜,” Dongnanya Nanya Yanjiu 东南亚南亚研究 1 (2012): 79–80; Chen Xuelin 陳學霖, “Huaren Yiguan 華人夷官,” Journal of Chi­nese Studies 中國文化研究所學報 54 (Jan­u­ary 2012): 65–67; Geoff Wade, “Melaka in Ming Dynasty Texts,” Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asi­atic Society 70, no. 1 (1997): 50–53; T’ien-Tsê Chang 張天澤, “Malacca and the Failure of the First Por­tu­guese Embassy to Peking,” Journal of Southeast Asian History 3, no. 2 (1962): 45–64. 4 5

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China. He car­ried off young girls from the coast, he seized upon the Chi­nese, and made slaves of them.8

In other words, Chang interpreted the Por­tu­guese be­hav­ior as one more man­i­fes­ta­tion of Eu­ro­pean co­lo­nial­ism. This view was supported by many later his­to­ri­ans, such as Armando Cortesão and Charles Boxer in Europe and Li Qingxin in China.9 More re­cent­ly, the com­par­i­son be­tween the Por­tu­guese en­try into China and the Span­ish con­quis­ta­do­ res has be­come the sub­ject of Serge Gruzinski’s fas­ci­nat­ing work, The Eagle and the Dragon.10 The au­thor­i­ta­tive En­glish-lan­guage ac­count of the failed em­bassy is that of John Wills in his clas­sic chap­ter of the Cambridge History of China, en­ti­tled “Relations with Maritime Eu­ro­pe­ans, 1514–1662.”11 Although Wills did adopt many of the con­clu­sions of ear­lier his­to­ri­ans, he also nu­anced them with a sharper at­ten­tion to the sit­u­a­tion of China itself in the six­teenth cen­tu­ry. For ex­am­ple, he noted that a black-mar­ket slave trade had be­come a prob­lem long be­fore the Por­tu­guese ar­riv­al.12 He also pointed out that the break­down of ne­go­ti­a­tions was par­tially due to dip­lo­matic mis­un­der­stand­ing aris­ing from a ten­sion be­tween two rad­i­cally dif­fer­ent con­cep­tions of the world or­der: “Eu­ro­pean im­pa­ tience and as­sump­tions of rec­i­proc­ity in for­eign re­la­tions en­coun­tered Chi­nese bu­reau­cratic de­lays and the Chi­nese gov­ern­ment’s uni­lat­eral ap­proach to the man­age­ment of for­eign re­la­tions.”13 Wills’s view was a care­ful and sub­tle re­vi­sion of the pre­vi­ous in­ter­pre­ta­tive tra­di­tion. 8  Tʻien-tsê Chang 張天澤, Sino-Por­tu­guese Trade from 1514 to 1644: A Synthesis of Por­ tu­guese and Chi­nese Sources (Leyden: E. J. Brill, 1934), 63–68. Chang in­di­cates that in this pas­sage he is in fact quot­ing Brit­ish Museum MS 13,875, fol. 24, “Report of Embassies to China, presented to the Brit­ish Museum by the Representatives at the Marquess Wellesley.” 9  Armando Cortesão, in­tro­duc­tion to Tomé Pires, Suma Oriental (London: Hakluyt, 1944), 1:xxviii–xxix. Charles Box­er, in­tro­duc­tion to Galeote Pereira, Gaspar da Cruz, and Martín de Rada, South China in the Sixteenth Century (London: Hakluyt, 1953), xxi. SinoPor­tu­guese Trade was fi­nally trans­lated into Chi­nese in 1988 as ZhongPu zaoqi tongshang shi 中葡早期通商史 (Hong Kong: Zhonghua shu ju, 1988). It has since been cited by Li Qingxin 李庆新, Mingdai haiwai maoyi zhidu 明代海外贸易制度 (Beijing: She hui ke xue wen xian chu ban she, 2007), 220–230; and Jin Guoping 金國平, Xi li dong jian: Zhong-Pu zaoqi jiechu zhui xi 西力东渐: 中葡早期接觸追昔 (Macau: Aomen ji jin hui, 2000), 1–18. 10   Serge Gruzinski, The Eagle and the Dragon: Globalization and Eu­ro­pean Dreams of Conquest in China and America in the Sixteenth Century, trans. Jean Birell (Malden, Mass.: Polity Press, 2014). 11   John Elliot Wills, “Relations with Maritime Europe, 1514–1662,” in The Ming Dynasty, 1368–1644, Part 2, vol. 8 of The Cambridge History of China, ed. Denis C. Twitchett and Frederick W. Mote (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 335–341. 12  Ibid., 338. 13  Ibid., 336–337.

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The goal of this ar­ti­cle is to pro­pose a com­pletely dif­fer­ent model for un­der­stand­ing the break­down of Sino-Por­tu­guese re­la­tions. In con­trast to the tra­di­tional view of the 1521 re­jec­tion as a clash be­tween ri­val civ­i­li­za­tions, Europe and Asia, this ar­ti­cle pres­ents it as an ep­i­sode in a long-stand­ing di­a­logue be­tween Ming China and the mer­chant em­pires of Southeast Asia. I ar­gue that the Ming court per­ceived the Por­tu­guese as a Southeast Asian group and that it rejected them as part of a larger cam­paign to reassert con­trol over re­gional af­fairs. *** First of all­, it is im­por­tant to es­tab­lish that it was not un­rea­son­able to view the Por­tu­guese as Southeast Asian mer­chants. Their fleets were com­pos­ite en­ti­ties, led by Eu­ro­pe­ans, but largely manned by Asian sail­ors. In these early years of Por­tu­guese ex­pan­sion, the home port for Por­ tu­guese head­ing to China was Melaka, which had been con­quered by Afonso de Albuquerque in 1511. This was a ma­jor trade cen­ter, whose pop­u­la­tion had surpassed 100,000 prior to the in­va­sion.14 Large ex­pa­tri­ate com­mu­ni­ties had set­tled there, in­clud­ing the Gu­ja­ra­tis, Kelings, Ja­va­ nese, Luzonese, and Chi­nese.15 Tomé Pires fa­mously claimed that eightyfour dif­fer­ent lan­guages could be heard in the streets.16 After the in­va­sion, the city de­clined, but even at its low­est point, it still remained a re­spect­ able port with a pop­u­la­tion of around twenty to thirty thou­sand.17 There was thus a strik­ing dis­pro­por­tion be­tween the num­bers of Asians and Eu­ro­pe­ans in the city. Albuquerque’s in­va­sion force had counted around 1,200 troops, but by 1515, most of them had left.18 During the 1517–1521 pe­ri­od, there were usu­ally only about three hun­dred Por­tu­guese sta­ tioned in Melaka.19 In other words, they prob­a­bly made up less than 1 per­cent of the pop­u­la­tion. 14   Anthony Reid, “The Structure of Cities in Southeast Asia, Fifteenth to Seventeenth Centuries,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 11, no. 2 (1980): 237–240. 15   Luís Filipe Thomaz, “Melaka and its Merchant Communities,” in Asian Merchants and Businessmen in the In­dian Ocean and the China Sea, ed. Denys Lom­bard and Jean Aubin (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 28–32; Kenneth Hall, History of Early Southeast Asia: Maritime Trade and Societal Development (Blue Ridge Summit, Penn.: Rowman & Littlefield, 2011), 308–312. 16  Pires, Suma Oriental, 2:269. 17   On pop­u­la­tion de­cline in Melaka, see Anthony Reid, “The Seventeenth-Century Crisis in Southeast Asia,” Modern Asian Studies 24, no. 4 (1990): 653. 18   Pero de Faria, let­ter to King Manuel, Melaka, Jan­u­ary 4, 1515, in Cartas de Affonso de Albuquerque, ed. Raymundo Antonio de Bulhão Pato (Lisbon: Academia Real das Sciencias, 1903), 3:129. 19   This was not­ed, for ex­am­ple, by the cap­tain of Melaka, Affonso Lopez da Costa, let­ter to the King D. Manuel, Melaka, Au­gust 20, 1518, in Documentação para a história das

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In this con­text, it was nu­mer­ic­ ally im­pos­si­ble for the Por­tu­guese to take over and mo­nop­ol­ ize the re­gional trade routes. Rather, they worked with the lo­cal mer­chants, maintaining the preexisting trade pol­i­cies of the Melaka sul­tan­ate and re­stor­ing the preexisting ad­min­is­tra­tive po­si­tions, which were of­fered to res­i­dent mer­chants who had switched their al­le­giance.20 They depended on these in­sid­ers to re­vive trade in the city. For ex­am­ple, the first bendahara—a role akin to that of prime min­is­ter—un­der Por­tu­guese rule was a Keling mer­chant named Nina Chatu.21 In 1514, the cap­tain of the city, Rui de Brito, de­scribed how he depended on Chatu to co­or­di­nate lo­cal com­merce: “He sends junks to ev­ery re­gion, both for his own profit as well as to bring honor to the land.”22 Por­tu­guese were placed aboard the var­i­ous for­eign ships that came and left. Barros says that it was Afonso de Albuquerque him­self who had or­dered the cap­tains of Melaka to do this: “There should not de­part a mer­chant ship from this city, in which there was not a Por­tu­ guese man with a sharp mind and a dis­po­si­tion for reporting in­for­ma­ tion of what he had seen and heard from these re­gions.”23 In gen­er­al, there were about ten Por­tu­guese on each ship—per­haps a quar­ter of the crew.24 In short, Por­tu­guese trade in Melaka was not strictly Eu­ro­pean in na­ture. On the con­trary, it was built up­on, and flowed through, the mer­chant groups of Melaka. It was through these groups that the Por­tu­guese first ar­rived in China. For over a cen­tu­ry, a dy­namic Chi­nese ex­pa­tri­ate com­mu­nity had thrived in Melaka, and on the eve of the in­va­sion, around ten trad­ing ships came

missões do padroado português do Oriente, ed. Artur Basílio de Sá (Lisbon: Agência Geral do Ultramar, 1954), 1:98. 20   Luís Filipe F. R. Thomaz, “The Por­tu­guese in the Seas of the Archipelago dur­ing the Sixteenth Century,” in Eu­ro­pean Commercial Expansion in Early Modern Asia, ed. Om Prakash (Aldershot: Variorum, 1997), 25–42. See also Kenneth R. Hall, “Multi-Dimensional Networking: Fifteenth-Century In­dian Ocean Maritime Diaspora in Southeast Asian Per­ spective,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 49, no. 4 (2006): 465–469. 21   Luís Filipe Thomaz, Nina Chatu and the Por­tu­guese Trade in Malacca (Bandar Melaka: Luso-Malaysian Books, 1991). 22   Rui de Brito, let­ter to the King, Melaka, Jan­u­ary 6, 1514 in Cartas de Affonso de Albuquerque, 3:95: “manda jun­cos a todas as partes asy por seu proveyto como por nobrecer a ter­ra.” 23  Barros, Da Asia, 3.10.6, 174: “que não partisse navio de mercadores daquella Cidade, onde não fosse hum Portuguez homem de bom espirito, e disposição pera trazer informação do que visse, e ouvisse daquellas regiões.” 24   Lopez da Costa, “let­ter,” 97. The to­tal size of crews is not al­ways clear. Roger Craig Smith, Vanguard of Em­pire: Ships of Exploration in the Age of Co­lum­bus (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 142, notes that a 100-ton ves­sel from this pe­riod re­quired a crew of about for­ty.

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from the Middle Kingdom ev­ery year.25 After the con­quest, many of these mer­chants fled. However, the Por­tu­guese did find an ally in “an old Chi­nese man” who commanded two junks, whom they called the Chei­ lata.26 It was aboard one of these junks, in a mixed con­voy that in­cluded Luzonese trad­ers, that Jorge Alvares ar­rived in China in 1513—the first Eu­ro­pean to visit China in the mod­ern age.27 It was also with the Chei­ lata that Rafael Perestrello vis­ited in 1515.28 During this early phase, the Por­tu­guese did not lead the voy­ages. On the con­trary, they were pas­sen­ gers and ob­serv­ers, who qui­etly blended into the flow of for­eign traf­fic com­ing into Guangdong. There is no men­tion of Alvares or Perestrello in the Chi­nese sources. At first glance, the Por­tu­guese fleet of 1517 was dif­fer­ent. It was led by a Por­tu­guese cap­tain ma­jor, Fernão Peres de Andrade. It in­cluded Por­tu­guese naus: the 200-ton Espera, the Sancta Cruz, the Sancto Andre, and the Sanctiago, ships whose heavy ar­til­lery would later draw the at­ten­tion of the Chi­nese.29 Nonetheless, de­spite the Eu­ro­pean sur­ face ap­pear­ances, the Melakan mer­chant com­mu­nity still formed the foun­da­tion. Alongside the naus sailed three junks. Two of them were nom­i­nally commanded by Por­tu­guese cap­tains, but were in fact owned by Melakan mer­chants: Jorge Botelho was in a ship of the Luzonese mer­chant Curia di Raja, and Manuel de Araujo was in one of the Chei­ lata.30 The lo­cal Chi­nese com­mu­nity was also im­por­tant, serv­ing as nav­ i­ga­tors and in­ter­pret­ers for the en­tire fleet.31 Finally, even in the naus, Eu­ro­pe­ans formed only a mi­nor­ity of the crew. Because Portugal was 25   On the num­ber of Chi­nese ships vis­it­ing Melaka, see Rui de Araujo, let­ter to Afonso de Albuquerque, Melaka, Feb­ru­ary 6, 1510, in Documentação para a história das missões do padroado português do Oriente, 1:98. On the Chi­nese com­mu­nity in Melaka, see Thomaz, “Melaka and Its Merchant Communities,” 31–32. See also Yamazaki Takeshi 山崎岳, Marakka ōkoku no bokkō マラカ王国の勃興, in Nanban kōmō tōjin 南蛮 .紅毛 .唐人, ed. Naka­ jima Gakushō 中島楽章 (Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 2013), 66–77; Roderich Ptak, “Merchants and Maximization: Notes on Chi­nese and Por­tu­guese Entrepreneurship in Maritime Asia, c.1350–1600,” in China and the Asian Seas: Trade, Travel, and Visions of the Other (1400– 1750) (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), ar­ti­cle 6, 41–43. 26   Rui de Brito, let­ter to the King, Melaka, Jan­ua­ ry 6, 1514, in Cartas de Affonso de Albuquerque, 3:93. 27   De Brito, let­ter to Affonso de Albuquerque, Melaka, Jan­u­ary 7, 1514, in Cartas de Affonso de Albuquerque, 3:220. 28  Barros, Da Asia, 3.2.6, 178. 29  Fernão Lopez de Castanheda, Historia do descobrimento e conquista da In­dia pelos Por­tu­gueses (Lisbon: Typographia Rollandiana, 1833), 3:27, 55. See also the com­ments of Armando Cortesão, Primeira embaixada europeia à China (Lisbon: Gráfica Lisbonense, 1945), 45; and Rui Loureiro, Fidalgos, mis­sionários e man­da­rins: Portugal e a China no século XVI (Lisbon: Fundação Oriente, 2000), 197–205. 30  Castanheda, Historia, 3.27, 55. 31  Barros, Da Asia, 3.2.8, 221.

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suf­fer­ing from a chronic sit­u­a­tion of un­der­staff­ing, ships had to de­pend on hired or forced la­bor to func­tion: sail­ors and slaves from Africa, Arabia, In­dia, and Melaka.32 Thus, it was un­der­stand­able that the Ming of­fi­cials who first met the in­com­ing fleet be­lieved that they were from Southeast Asia. The Chi­nese sources sug­gest that the Por­tu­guese were viewed not as a dis­ tinct na­tion-state, but rather as a kind of mixed mer­chant group. For ex­am­ple, Wang Xiwen, who in 1517 was a young man liv­ing near the for­eign ports, later de­scribed the ar­rival of the Por­tu­guese—whom he calls the “Folangji”33—in the fol­low­ing man­ner: “During the Zhengde years, the Folangji anon­y­mously blended in and thrust into the city.”34 Wang portrayed the Por­tu­guese not as lead­ing an of­fi­cial fleet, but rather as sneak­ing in among the for­eign traf­fic. The high coun­cil of Guangdong made a sim­i­lar ob­ser­va­tion af­ter meet­ing with Por­tu­guese ne­go­ti­a­tors in 1517. The eye­wit­ness Gu Yingxiang, who was a lower Guangdong of­fi­ cial at the time, later said: “Their peo­ple all­have high noses and deep-set eyes. Their heads are wrapped in white cloth, just as the Mus­lims dress.”35 As it seems un­likely that the Por­tu­guese were wear­ing tur­bans, Gu may have been looking at the Mus­lim in­ter­pret­ers and ser­vants within the group and mis­tak­ing them for Eu­ro­pe­ans. In any case, it is clear that the Por­tu­guese were seen as an el­e­ment within the broader Southeast Asian trade net­works. Accordingly, the Ming court con­cluded that the Por­tu­guese had come from some­where in the South China Sea. The later Mingshi sim­ ply states that “Folangji is near Melaka.”36 Similarly, a Ming court me­mo­rial from Jan­u­ary 1521 speaks of the Por­tu­guese in­va­sion of the 32   On the staffing prob­lems of the Por­tu­guese in Asia, see Sanjay Subrahmanyam, The Por­tu­guese Em­pire in Asia, 1500–1700: A Political and Economic History (New York: Long­ man, 1993), 55–79. See also Charles Box­er, The Por­tu­guese Seaborne Em­pire: 1415–1825 (New York: Knopf, 1969), 52–59; and Roderich Ptak, “China and Portugal at Sea: The Early Ming Trading System and the Estado da Índia Compared,” in China and the Asian Seas, ar­ti­cle 1, 30. 33   On the name “Folangji 佛郎機,” the term by which Chi­nese sources of the time re­fer to the Por­tu­guese, see Pelliot, “Ḫō(a” 86–87, n. 7. 34  As com­piled in Huang Xun 黃訓, Mingchen Jingji Lu 名臣經濟錄, (Hangzhou: Wenlan Ge文澜阁, 1861–1880), juan 43: “佛朗機匿名混進突至省城.” This is from the dig­i­tized edi­tion of the Zhejiang 四庫全書, published by the China Academic Digital Asso­ ciative Library, http://www.cadal.cn/. 35   As com­piled in Hu Zongxian 胡宗憲, Chouhai Tubian 籌海圖編 (Hangzhou: Wenlan Ge 文瀾閣, 1861–1880), juan 13. This is from the dig­i­tized edi­tion of the Zhejiang 四庫全書, published by the China Academic Digital Associative Library, http://www.cadal.cn/: “其人皆髙鼻, 深目, 以白布纒頭、如囘囘打扮.” 36   Mingshi 明史, juan 325: “佛郎機 ,近滿剌加 。正德中 ,據滿剌加地 ,逐其王.” The edi­tion consulted is that of the 武英殿二十四史, com­piled in 1739, and dig­i­tized by the Chi­nese Text Project, http://ctext.org/library.pl?if=en&res=77711.

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sul­tan­ate as an in­tru­sion into “neigh­bor­ing countries.”37 It seems that the of­fi­cials as­sumed that Portugal was one of the nu­mer­ous is­lands of what is to­day the In­do­ne­sian ar­chi­pel­ag­ o. Cristóvão Vieira, who was part of the Por­tu­guese em­bas­sy, re­cords the words of a cer­tain Chi­nese of­fi­cial, whom he calls Libo,38 who said that “the coun­try of the Firingis must be a small af­fair bor­der­ing on the sea.”39 *** With this con­text in mind, we can re­in­ter­pret the ac­cu­sa­tions made against the Por­tu­guese sail­ors in Guangdong, noted in the in­tro­duc­ tion. These crim­i­nal ac­tiv­i­ties were per­haps forms not only of Eu­ro­pean im­pe­ri­al­ism, but also of Southeast Asian pi­ra­cy. That is to say, the Por­ tu­guese fleets be­haved like other mer­chant con­voys of the re­gion, and their mis­con­duct was of­ten typ­i­cal of lo­cal smug­gling prac­tices. Two ac­cu­sa­tions in par­tic­u­lar will be ex­am­ined: that of in­vad­ing Chi­nese ter­ ri­tory and that of il­le­gal slave trade. First of all­, Barros said that the Ming of­fi­cials wor­ried over a po­ten­ tial Por­tu­guese in­va­sion of Chi­nese ter­ri­to­ry. Indeed, the Por­tu­guese did build a fort on the island of Tunmen, off the south­ern shores of the Pearl River del­ta. Fernão Peres de Andrade had requested per­mis­sion to build a trad­ing out­post there in 1518,40 and Simão de Andrade then la­bored on this struc­ture for most of his voy­age of 1519–1520. Barros says that it was “a for­tress of stone and wood, with its ar­til­lery placed in po­si­tions from which it could be attacked.”41 In other words, while the ex­plicit pur­pose of the build­ing was com­mer­cial, its mil­i­ta­ris­tic as­pects were read­ily man­i­fest. Tonio Andrade has ex­am­ined how such fortresses lay the very ground­works for Western ex­pan­sion across Asia.42 Furthermore, the Chi­nese sources in­di­cate that Ming of­fi­cials rec­ og­nized the out­post as a po­ten­tial threat. For ex­am­ple, the Guangdong Tongzhi says that the Por­tu­guese “with­drew and docked at Nantou in Dongguan, and they im­me­di­ately set to build­ing houses and wooden   Mingshilu, vol. 69, Wuzong, juan 194.   The Ministry of Rites is gen­er­ally re­ferred to as the Libu 禮部. It is not un­likely that Vieira made a mis­take, think­ing that “Libo” was a per­son. 39   Cristóvão Vieira and Vasco Calvo, Letters from Por­tu­guese Captives in Canton, trans. Donald Ferguson (Mumbai: Education Society, 1902), 114. 40  Castanheda, Historia, 4:31, 71; and Gaspar Correia, Lendas da In­dia, ed. Rodrigo José de Lima Felner (Lisbon: Academia Real das Sciencias, 1860), 2:528. 41  Barros, Da Asia, 3.6.2, 15: “huma força de pedra, e madeira, com sua artilheria posta nos lugares per onde o podiam of­fend­er.” 42   On Portugal’s ag­gres­sive use of can­non-for­ti­fied out­posts, see Tonio Andrade, The Gunpowder Age: China, Military Innovation, and the Rise of the West in World History (Princ­ eton, N.J.: Princeton University, 2016), 135–165. 37 38

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en­clo­sures, re­ly­ing on fire­arms to make them­selves se­cure.”43 Cristovão Vieira reported see­ing a let­ter from the Guangdong of­fi­cials: “The let­ ter of the man­da­rins of Guangdong said, that the Folangjis . . . ​had a for­tress made of stone cov­ered with tiles and surrounded with ar­til­lery, and in­side many arms.”44 At the same time, it should be noted that this heavily armed out­ post was as much a man­i­fes­ta­tion of lo­cal trade prac­tice as it was of Eu­ro­pean im­pe­ri­al­ism. In fact, the oc­cu­pa­tion of is­lands was a typ­i­cal fea­ture of for­eign com­merce in China, tac­itly sanc­tioned by the state. In the fifteenth cen­tu­ry, the use of is­lands was ne­ces­si­tated by the Ming Em­pire’s “mar­i­time ban,” which allowed only of­fi­cial em­bas­sies to visit China and banned all­other for­eign in­ter­ac­tion.45 Arriving em­bas­sies thus had to stop at the is­lands off the coast of Guangzhou and wait un­til given ap­proval to en­ter the city. Such use of the is­lands is not recorded in the Ming law code. Rather, it comes comes out in­di­rectly in the sources. For ex­am­ple, the Xiangshan-xian zhi re­cords a story of an of­fi­ cial who lost the seal of a vis­it­ing for­eign em­bassy in 1393—an event that oc­curred on the island of Xiangshan, the fu­ture Macao.46 In 1508, the mar­i­time ban was par­tially re­laxed, and for­eign mer­ chants were allowed once more to le­gally trade in Guangdong.47 At this point, traf­fic to the island ba­ses in­creased, as not only em­bas­sies used them, but also pri­vate mer­chants. In fact, this lat­ter group was forced to do all­busi­ness on these off-shore sites, since they were still not per­mit­ ted to en­ter Guangzhou. Transactions were han­dled by Chi­nese sales agents, called yahang, who shut­tled be­tween the is­lands and the main­ land.48 Tomé Pires wrote that “as soon as the said junks an­chor there 43   Guo Fei 郭棐, Guangdong Tongzhi 廣東通志 (Jinan: Qi-Lu Shushe 齐鲁书社, 1996), juan 69: “退泊東莞南頭徑造屋樹柵、恃火銃以自固.” This pas­sage is also cop­ied in Yang Congjian 嚴從簡, Shuyu zhouzilu 殊域周咨錄 (Beijing: Beijing University, 1930), juan 9. The text is dig­i­tized by the China Academic Digital Associative Library, http://www.cadal.cn/. 44  Vieira, Letters, 105. 45   The mar­i­time ban has been the ob­ject of nu­mer­ous stud­ies. A suc­cinct sum­mary can be found in the be­gin­ning of Wills, “Relations,” 333–335. The most ex­ten­sive study is that of Li, Mingdai, 29–162. See also Chao Zhongchen 晁中辰, Mingdai haijin yu haiwai maoyi 明 代海禁与海外贸易 (Beijing: Ren min chu ban she, 2005), 46–67; Hiroshi Danjō 檀上寛, Mindai kaikin=chōkō shisutemu to Kai chitsujo 明代海禁=朝貢システムと華夷秩序 (Kyoto: Kyōto Daigaku Gakujutsu Shuppankai, 2013), 69–100. 46   This story from the Xiangshan-xian zhi 香山縣志 is cited in Huang Hongzhao 黃鴻釗, “On the Road to International Trading Port in Macao 論澳門通往國際貿易港之路,” Academic Journal of “One Country, Two Systems” 一國兩制研究 20 (2014): 178. 47   See Chao, Mingdai, 59; Qiu Xuanyu 邱炫煜, Ming diguo yu nanhai zhu fanguo guanxi de yanbian 明帝國與南海諸蕃國關係的演變 (Taipei: Lan tai, 1995), 292–296. 48   For an in­tro­duc­tion to the yahang, see Chen Zhongping 陈忠平, “Ming-Qing shiqi Jiangnan shizhen de yaren yu yahang 明清时期江南市镇的牙人与牙行,” Zhongguo jingji shi yanjiu 中国经济史研究 (Beijing: Zhongguo shehui kexueyuan jingji yanjiu suo 中国社会

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[the is­lands], the lord of Nantou sends word to Guangzhou and mer­ chants im­me­di­ately come to value the mer­chan­dise and to take their dues.”49 This com­mer­cial ar­range­ment ef­fec­tively transformed the is­lands into per­ma­nent for­eign set­tle­ments. Pires said that around Guangzhou were is­lands where “ports were alloted to each na­tion.”50 Not sur­pris­ing­ly, such a sys­tem was eas­ily given to abuse. The coastal is­lands were used not only by for­eign em­bas­sies and le­git­i­mate mer­ chants, but also by smug­glers and pi­rates. In fact, many of these coastal ports had al­ready served as pi­rate ba­ses for cen­tu­ries be­fore they took on the above-men­tioned of­fi­cial duties. For ex­am­ple, is­lands such as Wuyu, in Fujian, and Nanao, in Guangdong, had tra­di­tions of smug­ gling dat­ing back to at least the Song era.51 In the late four­teenth cen­tu­ry, the Hongwu em­per­or, founder of the Ming Dynasty, tried to check pi­racy by forc­ibly evac­ua­ t­ing some of these lo­ca­tions.52 One of the most fa­mous of all­Ming pi­rate bat­tles was the as­sault on the island of Shuangyu, off the coast of Ningbo, in 1548–1549.53 It is in this con­text that we should un­der­stand both the Por­tu­guese oc­cu­pa­tion of Tunmen and the Ming con­cerns over their ac­tions there. Tunmen was the island that had been al­lot­ted to Portugal for trade. Tomé Pires makes it clear that it had al­ready been assigned to them be­fore Fernão Peres de Andrade ar­rived, prob­a­bly from the first voy­age of Jorge Alvares in 1513.54 The build­ing of Por­tu­guese struc­tures on the island followed this same com­mer­cial log­ic—as not­ed, Fernão Peres de Andrade’s ex­plicit goal was to build a trad­ing out­post there. Barros says that his suc­ces­sor, Simão de Andrade, had this same pur­pose in mind when he con­tin­ued con­struc­tion on the fort. He wanted to set up a place “with which he hoped to freely do com­merce.”55 科学院经济研究所, 1987). On the use of yahang in Guangdong for­eign trade dur­ing the Zhengde Age, see Chao, Mingdai, 54. 49  Pires, Suma, 1:121–122. I have ad­justed the spell­ings of place names to be con­sis­tent with the rest of the ar­ti­cle. 50  Ibid., 1:121. 51   Liao Dake 廖大珂, Fujian haiwai jiaotong shi 福建海外交通史 (Fuzhou: Fujian ren­ min chuban she, 2002), 221–226. 52   On the forced aban­don­ment of is­lands, see ibid., 206. See also Chen Chunsheng 陳春声, “Mindai ni okeru Chōshū no kaibō to enkai chiiki no shakai 明代における潮州 の海防と沿海地域の社会,” trans. Shirai Jun 白井順, in Kaiiki kōryū to seiji kenryoku no taiō 海域交流と政治権力の対応, ed. Inoue Tōru 井上徹 (Tokyo: Kyūko Shoin, 2011), 149–151. 53   On this bat­tle, see Zheng Liangsheng 鄭樑生, Mingdai Wokou 明代倭寇 (Taibei Shi : Wen shi zhe chu ban she, 2008); Tanaka Takeo 田中健夫, Wakō: umi no rekishi 倭寇 ― 海の歴史 (Tokyo: Kyōikusha rekishi shinsho, 1982), 122–129. 54   On Alvares as the likely source of Pires’s knowl­edge about China, see Loureiro, Fidalgos, 170–171. 55  Barros, Da Asia, 3.6.2, 15 “como quem esperava fazer seu commercio de vagar.”

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While the Por­tu­guese doubt­less had some im­pe­ri­al­is­tic in­ten­tions in plac­ing ar­til­lery in the out­post, this was not their only rea­son for do­ing so. Fernão Peres de Andrade wanted to for­tify the out­post so that it would be “se­cure from the nu­mer­ous ban­dits.”56 In the same way, Barros says that Simão de Andrade armed it be­cause he knew that usu­ally many pi­rates were con­stantly com­ing there to rob the sail­ors, and some­times they came in such num­bers, and in such force, that the Armadas that the King of China or­dered to pa­trol the area of­ten took ref­uge in good shel­ters with­out dar­ing to con­front them.57

The two cap­tains’ stated de­sire for de­fense against ban­ditry should be taken se­ri­ous­ly. As not­ed, the is­lands were pi­rate ha­vens, and the Por­tu­ guese were at risk just like ev­ery­one else. One of their ships, that of Duarte Coelho, was nearly cap­tured by cor­sairs around May 1517. 58 The Por­ tu­guese fleet was raided while at Tunmen in Oc­to­ber 1517.59 And Ming forces suc­cess­fully drove away an­other large pi­rate as­sault near T ­ unmen in early sum­mer 1519, shortly be­fore Simão de Andrade ar­rived.60 While in this last case, the Ming forces did come out in strength, Simão’s claim that they of­ten took ref­uge rather than put­ting up a de­fense was com­ pletely true.61 In fact, in 1516, the Guangdong coastal de­fense forces were reprimanded by the court pre­cisely for “not dar­ing to ar­rest” a large group that had plun­dered the coast­line.62 The for­eign mer­chants were of­ten left to de­fend them­selves out on the is­lands. Consequently, in plac­ing ar­til­lery in their out­post, the Por­tu­guese were sim­ply do­ing what all­of the other for­eign mer­chants on the is­lands had al­ready been do­ing: arming them­selves as best they could against the con­stant dan­ gers of the sea. The prin­ci­pal dif­fer­ence was that Por­tu­guese weap­onry was much dead­lier than those of the oth­ers. In sum, it is prob­a­bly best to in­ter­pret their fort-build­ing ac­tiv­i­ties as a blend of both Eu­ro­pean and Asian be­hav­ior—a mix­ture of im­pe­ri­al­ism and lo­cal trade prac­tice.

 Castanheda, Historia, 4.31, 71. See also Correia, Lendas 2:528.  Barros, Da Asia, 3.6.2, 15: “ordinariamente sem­pre acudiam alli muitos cossairos a roubar os navegantes, e ás vezes vinham tantos, e tão poderosos, que as Armadas que ElRey da China mandava andar naquella paragem, muitas vezes se acolhiam a boas abrigadas sem ousar de os commetter.” 58  Castanheda, Historia, 4.28, 61; Barros, Da Asia, 3.2.8, 206. 59  Barros, Da Asia, 3.2.8, 218. 60   Mingshilu, vol. 69, Wuzong, juan 175. 61   On the Ming coastal de­fense’s ten­dency to hide in fortresses dur­ing pi­rate raids, see, for ex­am­ple, Chen, Chaozhou, 145. 62   Mingshilu, vol. 67, Wuzong, juan 142: “無敢捕之.” 56 57

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Turning to­wards the Chi­nese per­spec­tive, the Ming of­fi­cials’ re­ac­ tion to the Por­tu­guese fort at Tunmen was clearly con­di­tioned by their ex­pe­ri­ences with island pi­ra­cy. It has been noted that their ini­tial per­ cep­tion of the Por­tu­guese was that they were ocean ban­dits. Accord­ ingly, it seems that they did not see the fort as the act of a na­tion-state try­ing to con­quer Ming ter­ri­to­ry, but rather as a kind of crim­i­nal in­fes­ta­ tion on a des­ert island. What seems to have concerned them most was that the fort in­di­cated an in­ten­tion to make the island into some­thing more than just a tem­po­rary trad­ing site—it had be­come an entrenched set­tle­ment. For ex­am­ple, the pas­sage from the Guangdong Tongzhi, quoted above, seems to ex­press just as much con­cern over the build­ ing of houses at Tunmen as over the plac­ing of ar­til­lery: “They im­me­ di­ately set to build­ing houses and wooden en­clo­sures, re­ly­ing on fire arms to make them­selves se­cure.”63 This same at­ti­tude ap­pears in the court me­mo­ri­als. In June 1521, the cen­sor He Ao de­scribed the fort as “a stock­ade intended for long-term res­i­dence.”64 Finally, in Au­gust 1521, the Ministry of Rites complained that the Por­tu­guese had been “encamped for a long pe­ri­od.”65 The Ming of­fi­cials feared that a large mil­i­tary cam­paign would be nec­es­sary to up­root this new ban­dit ha­ven—a re­peat of so many pre­ vi­ous an­ti-pi­racy op­er­at­ions. And in many ways, their fears were not un­found­ed. *** Let us now ex­am­ine the sec­ond ma­jor ac­cu­sa­tion against the Por­tu­guese sail­ors in Guangdong: that of en­gag­ing in slave trade. Barros says that what most dis­turbed the peo­ple of Guangdong was that the sec­ond cap­tain ma­jor, Simão de Andrade, was pur­chas­ing and enslaving Chi­nese chil­dren from hon­or­able fam­i­lies.66 This re­port was true. It was true, first of all­, in the sense that the Por­tu­guese were in­deed ac­quir­ing slaves. Barros’s tes­ti­mony is cor­rob­o­rated by a let­ter writ­ten by João de Caminha in 1523, which reported that Andrade had brought fif­teen Chi­nese slaves back with him to In­dia.67 These fif­teen doubt­ less represented only a small frac­tion of the to­tal traf­fic, since Andrade

 Fei, Guangdong, juan 58: “退泊東莞南頭徑造屋樹柵、恃火銃以自固.”   Mingshilu, vol. 69, Wuzong, juan 194. 65   Mingshilu, vol. 70, Shizong, juan 4. Wade, trans., Southeast Asia. 66  Barros, Da Asia, 3.6.2, 16. 67   João de Caminha, let­ter to the King, Goa, Oct. 22, 1523, Corpo Cronológico, Parte I, maço 30, no. 40; dig­i­tized by the Arquivo Nacional Torre do Tombo at http://digitarq​ .arquivos.pt/details?id=3770999. 63 64

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him­self commanded only one ship,68 among the roughly dozen Por­tu­ guese ves­sels that vis­ited Guangdong dur­ing his ten­ure in 1519–1520.69 Barros’s re­port was also true in the sense that the Por­tu­guese slave trade was in­deed a ma­jor source of con­cern to both the peo­ple of Guang­ dong and the Ming court. He Ao said that the Eu­ro­pe­ans “be­gan to kid­nap and pur­chase peo­ple.”70 The Guangdong tongzhi re­cords an even stron­ger ac­cu­sa­tion, say­ing that the Por­tu­guese “kid­napped nu­mer­ous small chil­dren, un­der ten years of age, roasting and eat­ing them.”71 Cris­ tóvão Vieira must have seen these re­ports, as he also re­cords this grue­ some ac­cu­sa­tion, which Barros sub­se­quently cop­ied.72 Chi­nese sources, such as the Shuyu zhouzilu, also in­sist upon the enor­mous num­bers of slaves who were be­ing pur­chased. “They stayed for two or three years [that is, 1518–1521], and chil­dren were sto­len in grow­ing masses.”73 The ru­mors of can­ni­bal­ism were caus­ing panic among the pop­u­la­tion. The Guangdong Tongzhi says that “the peo­ple of Guangdong were ter­ri­fied.”74 Nonetheless, in this case as well, the il­le­gal slave trade was as much a part of Asian smug­gling prac­tice as of Eu­ro­pean im­pe­ri­al­ism. As John Wills not­ed, the Por­tu­guese were not the first to pur­chase Chi­nese slaves in Guangdong. In and of itself, slav­ery was le­gal in China, as well as be­ing gov­ern­ment-reg­u­lat­ed.75 The prob­lem was not that Chi­nese were be­ing enslaved, but rather that, in a mark­edly eth­no­cen­tric fash­ion, it was il­le­gal to sell a Chi­nese per­son to a non-Chi­nese.76 However, this re­stric­tion was dif­fi­cult to en­force. The trans­ac­tions were ap­par­ently han­dled by the sales agents, the ubiq­ui­tous yahang men­tioned ear­li­er, whom the gov­ern­ment strug­gled to con­trol, even within the do­mes­tic

 Correia, Lendas, 2:566; Castanheda, Historia, 5:4, 122.   It can be de­duced that roughly a dozen ships vis­ited Guangdong each year from the list of ships that par­tic­i­pated (will­ingly or un­will­ing­ly) in the bat­tle against the Ming navy in 1521. The list of ships that were cap­tured in this bat­tle is given by Vieira, Letters 109–110. 70   Mingshilu, vol. 69, Wuzong, juan 194. Wade, trans., Southeast Asia. 71  Fei, Guangdong, juan 58: “數掠十嵗以下小兒烹食之.” 72  Vieira, Letters, 105. Vieira’s let­ter in fact says that the Por­tu­guese ate “dogs”: “Dezia a carta does mandaris de Cantão que . . . ​furtavão cães e que os comião asados.” However, this must be a copy­ist’s er­ror, as Barros, Da Asia, 3.6.1, 14, quotes this same pas­sage say­ing, “diziam que compravamos moços, e moças furtadas . . . ​e que os comiamos assados.” On this same mat­ter, see Chang, Sino-Por­tu­guese, 49. 73  Yang, Shuyu, juan 9: “居二三年 ,兒被掠益眾.” 74  Fei, Guangdong, juan 58: “ 廣人咸惴惴.” 75   For a brief in­tro­duc­tion to slav­ery in China through the Ming dy­nas­ty, see Wei Qin­ gyuan 韦庆远, Qing dai nubi zhidu 清代奴婢制度 (Beijing: Zhongguo ren min da xue chu ban she, 1982), 7–21. 76   A sim­i­lar ban on the sale of Chi­nese slaves appeared, for ex­am­ple, in the reg­u­la­tions for Macau. See Wills, “Relations,” 351. 68 69

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mar­ket­place.77 It was nearly im­pos­si­ble to stop them from pur­chas­ing Chi­nese slaves on the main­land and then sell­ing them on the is­lands. The black-mar­ket sale of Chi­nese slaves to for­eign­ers was alarming the Ming court al­ready in the fifteenth cen­tu­ry. For ex­am­ple, in 1481, en­voys from Siam and Samudera (north­ern Sumatra) were stopped in Guangdong when it was dis­cov­ered that “their boat-men showed them how to pur­chase the sons and daugh­ters of impoverished peo­ple.”78 This sit­ua­ ­tion was ac­cel­er­ated by the eas­ing of the mar­it­ime ban in 1509. A court me­mo­rial from June 1517—just prior to Fernão Peres de Andrade’s ar­riv­al—de­scribed the sit­u­a­tion: Evil per­sons of Guangdong had pri­vately traded in for­eign goods, linked up with the ex­ter­nal bar­bar­i­ans, joined with those com­ing to of­fer trib­ute in or­der to seek prof­its, be­guiled peo­ple into absconding, kid­napped or pur­chased boys and girls, and came and went en­gag­ing in evil ac­tiv­i­ties and bring­ing harm to the peo­ple.79

It is in this con­text that the ac­cu­sa­tions of Por­tu­guese slave trade must be un­der­stood. Despite the rhet­o­ric of cer­tain Chi­nese sources, quoted above, the Por­tu­guese were prob­a­bly ac­quir­ing slaves not through kid­nap­ping, but rather through the preexisting mar­ket struc­tures. The six­teenth-cen­tury his­to­rian Gaspar Correia gives a re­veal­ing de­scrip­tion of how Fernão Peres de Andrade pro­cured supplies while in Guangzhou: Fernão Peres allowed none of our own men to go to land, and that which was of need, he or­dered it to be bought by Chi­nese slaves, whom he had brought, from the ships that were in the riv­er, which had ev­ery­ thing for sale.80

In other words, trade was me­di­ated through a se­ries of bro­kers. Por­tu­ guese-enslaved Chi­nese agents were mak­ing trans­ac­tions with Guang­ dong yahang on the Pearl River. The slave trade likely followed this same pat­tern. A later six­teenth-cen­tury source would note the role of ya­hang, say­ing that “the young thugs of Guangdong were kid­nap­ping 77  On Ming ef­forts to con­trol the yahang, see Tong Guangzheng 童光政, “Minglu ‘sichong yahang butou’ tiao de changli ji qi shiyong 明律‘私充牙行埠头 条的创立及其适用,’ ” Faxue Yanjiu 法学研究 (2004): 116–125. 78   Mingshilu, vol. 38, Xianzong, juan 149. Wade, trans., Southeast Asia. 79   Mingshilu, vol. 68, Wuzong, juan 149. Wade, trans., Southeast Asia. 80  Correia, Lendas, 2:527: “Fernão Peres nom consentio que nenhum dos nossos saysse em ter­ra, e o que avia mester, por escravos chyns, que levava, o mandava comprar aos paraos que estavão no rio, que tudo tinhão pera vend­er.”

Fujitani: Ming Rejection of the Por­tu­guese Embassy

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small chil­dren, com­pet­ing ag­gres­sive­ly.”81 The Guangdong Tongzhi re­port that the Por­tu­guese paid one hun­dred wen (文) in gold for each child.82 Thus, the Por­tu­guese did not in­tro­duce slave trade into Guangdong, but rather flowed into lo­cal prac­tice—al­beit il­le­gal prac­tice. Nonetheless, there was one as­pect that was per­haps new and more clearly im­pe­ri­al­is­tic. Previously, vis­it­ing for­eign mer­chants of­ten pur­ chased slaves in or­der to re­place lost crew mem­bers aboard their ships. The Por­tu­guese, in con­trast, were pur­chas­ing in view of the world mar­ ket, in or­der to resell their vic­tims for profit across the In­dian Ocean.83 This re­quired larger num­bers of slaves. *** Up to this point, we have seen that the Por­tu­guese fleets be­haved much like Southeast Asian mer­chant con­voys, and that that is how the Ming court viewed them. It now re­mains to show that the re­jec­tion of the em­bassy in 1521 followed this same log­ic. From the be­gin­ning, the court’s de­bate over the Por­tu­guese was in­te­ grated into a larger de­bate over Southeast Asian trade. The Ministry of Rites, which had ju­ris­dic­tion over for­eign di­plo­ma­cy, had never ac­cepted the im­pe­rial de­ci­sion of 1509 to al­low pri­vate for­eign com­merce in Guangdong. It had objected to the pol­icy in 1509, and it re­it­er­ated its ob­jec­tions in 1514 and 1515.84 However, its voice was re­peat­edly ig­nored. In June 1517, the court of­fi­cially backed the Ministry of Revenue against the Ministry of Rites and de­cided to up­hold the pol­i­cy.85 Just a cou­ple of months lat­er, in Au­gust 1517, Fernão Peres de Andrade’s fleet ar­rived in Guangdong. The co­in­ci­dence be­tween the court’s de­ci­sion and the Por­tu­guese ar­rival was not­ed. The com­pil­ers of the Mingshilu later added a re­veal­ing, if anach­ro­nis­tic, com­men­tary to the afore-men­tioned me­mo­rial of June 1517: “The grand co­or­di­na­tor, re­gional in­spec­tor and the Ministry of Revenue were all­deluded and this pro­posal was ap­proved. Not many years lat­er, the Folangji trou­bles started.”86 In 1521, in his ar­gu­ment to re­ject the Por­tu­guese em­bas­sy, He Ao would pres­ent this same view: 81   Gu Yanwu 顧炎武, Tianxia junguo libing shu 天下郡國利病書 (Shanghai: Shanghai kexue jishu wenxian chuban she, 2002), ce(冊) 33: “廣之惡少掠小兒競趨之.” Gu him­self is quot­ing an ear­lier text, the Yueshan congtan 月山叢談. 82  Fei, Guangdong, juan 58. 83   On the Por­tu­guese slave trade as a man­if­es­ta­tion of a new global la­bor mar­ket, see Malyn Newitt, A History of Por­tu­guese Overseas Expansion, 1400–1668 (New York: Rout­ ledge, 2005), 262–263. 84   These three oc­ca­sions are recorded in Mingshilu, vol. 63, Wuzong, juan 48; Mingshilu, vol. 66, Wuzong, juan 113; Mingshilu, vol. 67, Wuzong, juan 123. 85   Mingshilu, vol. 68, Wuzong, juan 149. 86   Mingshilu, vol. 68, Wuzong, juan 149. Wade, trans., Southeast Asia.

102

jour­nal of world his­to­ry, march 2016

This [trade pol­i­cy] has resulted in for­eign ships con­tin­u­ally com­ing to our coastal bays and for­eign­ers re­sid­ing to­gether in our subprefectural cit­ies. Also, as the laws and the de­fences have been neglected, these peo­ple have be­come in­creas­ingly fa­mil­iar with the routes. These Fol­ angji have taken ad­van­tage of this sit­u­a­tion to rush here.87

In the eyes of He Ao, the Por­tu­guese and the free-wheel­ing for­eign trade of Guangdong were two in­sep­a­ra­ble is­sues. The Por­tu­guese were the epit­ ome of all­the prob­lems brought by the South China Sea mer­chants: oc­cu­py­ing is­lands, threat­en­ing se­cu­ri­ty, kid­nap­ping chil­dren. Accord­ ingly, his rec­om­men­da­tion was not only to re­ject the Por­tu­guese, but also to over­turn the 1509 pol­i­cy. After ask­ing the court to dis­miss the Por­tu­guese em­bas­sy, he then requested that the old reg­ul­ a­tions be ex­am­ined and re­stored, that all­the for­eign ships in the bays and all­the for­eign­ers who have se­cretly en­tered and re­side there be ex­pelled, that non-of­fi­cial in­ter­ac­tions be prohibited.88

In short, he wanted a res­to­ra­tion of the tra­di­tional mar­i­time ban. The me­mo­rial ends with the Ministry of Rites’s ring­ing sup­port for He Ao’s rec­om­men­da­tions. In an­other me­mo­ri­al, from Au­gust 1521, the min­is­ try would again urge these two joint rec­om­men­da­tions: call­ing for the Por­tu­guese ships to be ex­pelled and for all­pri­vate for­eign mer­chants in Guangdong to be turned away.89 In fact, the court did not have to in­sist again. At that very mo­ment, the Ming navy was al­ready in the mid­dle of a bat­tle with the Por­tu­guese mer­chant ma­rine off the coast of Guang­ zhou.90 The first pe­riod of of­fi­cial Sino-Por­tu­guese re­la­tions had end­ed. In con­clu­sion, this ar­ti­cle has sought to reassess the tra­di­tional in­ter­ pre­ta­tion of the fail­ure of the Por­tu­guese em­bas­sy. Rather than view­ing it as a fo­cused strug­gle be­tween China and Europe, I have ar­gued that it should be viewed as part of the pe­ren­nial ten­sion be­tween the Ming court and the Southeast Asian trade net­works. For the Chi­nese of­fi­cials, the Por­tu­guese did not rep­re­sent an en­tirely strange, un­fa­mil­iar force, but rather a new var­ia­ ­tion on an old theme of pi­ra­cy. The 1521 clash can­not be lim­ited to a bi­nary op­po­si­tion be­tween East and West. It was a global event, in the broadest sense of the word.

  Mingshilu, vol. 69, Wuzong, juan 194. Wade, trans., Southeast Asia.  Ibid. 89   Mingshilu, vol. 70, Shizong, juan 4. 90   The Por­tu­guese ships were un­able to es­cape the Ming navy un­til a wind arose on Sep­tem­ber 8, 1521. See Barros, Da Asia, 3.6.2, 18. 87 88
The Ming Rejection of the Portuguese Embassy of 1517 A Reassessment fujitani2016

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