Macao's Moral Maze: Sino-Portuguese Efforts Against the Early Modern Chinese Slave Trade

ABSTRACT

This article examines the Sino-Portuguese efforts against the slave trade in China from 1557 to 1639, highlighting the complexities and challenges faced in enforcing anti-slavery measures. Despite shared intentions to suppress the trade, divergent strategies and the pursuit of trade profits by local Chinese officials, merchants, and the business community in Macao hindered effective enforcement. By leveraging Chinese, Portuguese sources, including official memorials, Jesuit manuscripts, and royal decrees, the article offers new insights into the geopolitical and economic contexts shaping the slave trade. It underscores the need to understand the varied strategies and considerations employed by different entities in addressing slavery, contributing to a more nuanced narrative of global history and early globalization processes.

KEYWORDS:

• Macao
• slave trade
• Sino-Portuguese relations
• Jesuits
• Ming China

Introduction

For a long time, the Chinese slave trade dominated by the Portuguese in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries received scant attention, with only sporadic mentions by scholars.¹ One reason might be due to the scarcity of historical sources related to slavery and the involvement of multiple languages and nations. Though scholars have recognized the existence of such trade to some extent, they have preferred to focus on subjects with more abundant documentation such as silver, silk, and diplomatic relations. However, in recent years, with the global turn in slave trade studies, the slave trade in East Asia is no longer viewed as a regional trade but has begun to attract scholarly attention and is being analyzed from a global perspective. Pioneering and forward-thinking works by scholars like Lúcio de Sousa, Tatiana Seijas, and Rômulo da Silva Ehalt have begun to uncover the slave trade systems in early modern East Asian waters and the global circulation of East Asian slaves, enriching our understanding of the trade details and participants during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.² Yet, there remains a gap regarding how the parties involved in the Chinese slave trade responded to and strategized against this form of illegal trafficking.

This article argues that Chinese and Portuguese authorities, although both sides intended to suppress the slave trade, ultimately failed to prohibit the slave trade from 1557 to 1639. I claim that despite the shared intention to suppress the slave trade, the effectiveness of enforcement was undermined at a practical level due to divergent strategies and the pursuit of trade profits by local Chinese officials, merchants, and the business community in Macao. This article covers the period from 1557, when the Portuguese officially settled in Macao, to 1639, when they were expelled from Japan by the Tokugawa shogunate, marking the end of Macao’s most prosperous era. During this time, Portuguese merchants in Macao used extensive maritime routes, connecting not only to Japan and China but also to the wider world, integrating Macao into global trade networks. By examining this specific period, the article aims to shed light on the nature and dynamics of the Portuguese involvement in the Chinese slave trade, taking into consideration the geopolitical and economic contexts that shaped these activities. This article will first provide an overview of the Chinese slave trade initiated by the Portuguese. It will then focus on how China and Portuguese authorities addressed the issue and their strategies.

In doing so, this article utilizes not only Chinese and Portuguese historical sources but also incorporates perspectives from Japan. From the Chinese perspective, this study incorporates a diverse range of officials’ memorials and reports related to Macao from the Ming Dynasty by using these Chinese officials’ anthology published during the Ming and Qing Dynasty. Complementary to these are local gazetteers from coastal regions and memoirs by local literati, which collectively enrich our understanding with local perspectives. Turning to the European context, the study leverages invaluable Jesuit manuscripts housed in Biblioteca da Ajuda in Portugal and Biblioteca de la Real Academia de Historia in Spain. This personal correspondence and the annual reports offer unique insights into the interpersonal dynamics and prevailing sentiments of the time. Equally critical are documents like Documentos Remetidos da India, a significant collection of royal decrees from Portuguese India during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Compiled in later centuries, this collection provides a window into the Portuguese authorities’ official positions and their efforts to regulate the era’s trade practices.

As this article will illustrate, understanding the strategies employed by both Chinese authorities and the Portuguese monarchy in addressing the issue of Chinese slaves not only contributes to refining the narrative of a global history of slavery but also sheds light on the complexity of perspectives and influencing factors (with trade profits being a focal point in this discussion) that different cultures deployed in confronting the challenges posed by the slave trade. This analysis emphasizes the intricacies of global historical dynamics and their consequential impact on the early processes of globalization, thereby underscoring the multifaceted responses and ethical considerations that informed the decisions made by various actors within the global historical context.

The Prevalence of Portuguese Slave Trade in China

In 1516, when King Manuel I of Portugal dispatched Fernão Pires de Andrade to lead the Portuguese fleet to China, culminating in their arrival in the Guangdong waters in August 1517, the Portuguese not only introduced trade goods but also their practice of purchasing slaves to China. The rampant purchasing of Chinese children by the Portuguese in Guangzhou contributed to the enduring fear and disdain towards the Portuguese among the Chinese, also fuelling dark legends of Portuguese cannibalism.³

By 1557 the Portuguese had established a permanent base in Macao and had begun to conduct business there. This city emerged as a pivotal juncture for East–West interactions. It served not only as the launchpad for expeditions to Japan but also as the portal through which the Jesuits accessed the Chinese mainland, establishing itself as a cornerstone for Western Sinological studies and a conduit for technological exchange. At the dawn of the sixteenth-century globalisation of trade, Macao played a vital role, channelling an extensive array of Chinese merchandize to Japan, Portuguese Goa and Spanish Manila, and onwards to Europe. Concurrently, substantial volumes of Japanese and American silver flowed through Macao into China, catering to the Ming Dynasty’s substantial demand for silver. Beneath the veneer of these rich cultural and commercial exchanges, Macao also functioned as a hub for the slave trade. From its establishment in 1557 until the mid-seventeenth century, a significant number of Chinese individuals gathered at this port with the Portuguese traders, entwining it with the darker facets of global trade networks.

Lucío de Sousa provides an analysis of the structure and mechanisms underpinning the Portuguese slave trade in Japan, arriving at a straightforward conclusion regarding the origins of Chinese slaves and attributing their capture predominantly to wokou or Japanese pirates.⁴ Contrary to the early compositions of wokou during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, which were primarily Japanese, the sixteenth century saw a shift with the majority being Chinese, though the involvement of Japanese and Portuguese elements was not uncommon.⁵ During the mid-to-late Ming Dynasty, constrained by limited financial resources and manpower, coastal defences were often incapable of countering wokou activities, a situation exacerbated by the complicity of local officials with the pirates. These wokou engaged in the plundering of coastal fishermen and villages, and at times, they abducted men and women to claim ransom for them. Regrettably, many Chinese captives unable to afford ransom were seized by pirates and subsequently sold as slaves in Japan.⁶

The Portuguese, in their travels to Japan, emerged as significant buyers of slaves, often purchasing them to transport back to Macao. During this era, silk constituted the primary commodity in the trade exchanges between the Portuguese and Japan, with the Portuguese importing substantial quantities of silk from China to trade for Japanese silver. However, upon their return voyage from Japan, the acquired currency would not occupy the entire cargo space. To optimize profits, the Portuguese frequently purchased a large number of inexpensive slaves from Japan, particularly from the region of Kyūshū. Luís Fróis, a Jesuit missionary active in Japan in the sixteenth century, noted, ‘Because they carried many [women] on the ship that they bought for a very low price from the Japanese, who had captured them in China and then sold them later.’⁷

Beyond engaging with pirates or wokou for slaves in Japan, the Portuguese resorted to raids for Chinese slaves, often as a reaction to trade losses. João de Barros, a sixteenth-century chronicler, noted in 1519 that the Portuguese observed the Eastern practice of parents selling children or using them for debt settlement, assuming their purchases were voluntary rather than through coercion.⁸ This indicates that the Portuguese initially encountered challenges in trading with Chinese merchants, including unpaid debts, with some locals using children as debt collateral. This problem was partly due to the Portuguese’s limited understanding of Chinese trade customs leading to frequent defaults. They often adapted to local practices by extending credit to Chinese smugglers, a method fraught with conflicts. Unlike others Chinese smuggler ships heading to Southeast Asia under the patronage of local officials and magnates, those trading with the Portuguese were typically undercapitalized speculators, making this trade precarious. Consequently, when Chinese partners defaulted, the Portuguese incurred significant losses and resorted to raiding local communities as a means of recovering their losses, reflecting the instability and risks inherent in these early trade interactions.

The Chinese scholar Zheng Shungong, appointed by Zhejiang Governor Yang Yi, went to Japan in 1556 to investigate the wokou situation. Upon his return, he compiled his observations in Riben yijian (A Mirror of Japan), where he noted that coastal Chinese merchants like Xu Dong ‘often trade on credit with the barbarians, settling accounts in Ningbo and Shaoxing with Chinese goods.’⁹ Zheng Shungong highlighted that this business model was popular among smugglers at the time. However, once their Chinese trade partners defaulted on their debts and failed to repay the goods as agreed, the foreign merchants would lose almost all their invested capital. Zheng Xiao, who served in the Ministry of Justice, also detailed in his 1564 publication Huangming siyi kao (An Examination of the Four Barbarians of the Great Ming) incidents where foreign merchants were deceived by dishonest Chinese traders:

When foreign goods arrive, [the Portuguese] would give to the evil merchants on credit. For a long time, the evil merchants bullied foreigners … After many twists and turns, these evil merchants were not willing to pay the compensation. Therefore, foreigners came to rely on powerful local families. For a long time, the powerful families also bullied them and refused to pay compensation. They were even more greedy than evil merchants. Foreigners stayed on the islands off the coast and sent people to claim compensation. They could not succeed. Afterwards, they started to lack food, so they became pirates at sea.¹⁰

In Zheng Xiao’s account, it is noteworthy that the entities engaging in trade with foreign merchants were not limited to ‘dishonest traders’ or Chinese smugglers, but also included local Chinese elites. In certain instances, even the local government was known to have colluded covertly with Chinese smugglers, exploiting their official status to oppress foreign merchants. This practice underscores the complexity of trade dynamics and the intricate interplay between commerce, power, and legality in the period, revealing the multifaceted challenges foreign traders faced in navigating the socio-political landscape of the time.

Despite the Guangdong government granting Portuguese residency and trade permissions in Macao, illicit trade practices persisted. Encounters with losses and fraudulent dealings at the hands of coastal smugglers sometimes compelled the Portuguese to revert to their former methods of dealing with their financial losses, which entailed raiding coastal villages and abducting locals. On the 27th day of the twelfth month in 1638 (10 February 1638), Ling Yiqu, the Supervising Secretary of the Office of Scrutiny for Military, reported to the Emperor about a Portuguese attack in Fujian sparked by a past fraud. The incident revealed nearly exhausted embezzled funds, with no foreign compensation claims and unidentified culprits. The Portuguese responded by deploying warships, causing widespread chaos along the coast.¹¹This episode highlights the era’s difficulties in managing trade and ensuring coastal peace.

Macao’s Portuguese also got many opportunities to obtain slaves from local Chinese slave brokers. This period saw a marked increase in poverty levels among the populace. As James Fujitani has argued, the deepening social disparities of the late Ming era led impoverished peasants to increasingly sell themselves and their children into slavery to affluent landowners.¹² Some individuals broke the law by selling their children to foreigners, while others turned to kidnapping, selling the abducted as slaves to the Portuguese. This issue was exacerbated by natural disasters, such as a flood in Nanjing documented by Matteo Ricci, which heightened the exploitation and enslavement risks for those affected:

in these years a great part of the poorest are forced to sell their sons and daughters and even the wives in the streets at a very low price; for the children of twelve and fifteen years old were sold for seven or eight giulij for one, though even in the time of good harvest they are easily sold for no more 2 scudi¹³

As documented by Matteo Ricci, during the mid to late Ming Dynasty, the persistently low prices in the slave market enabled affluent local families, particularly in southern China, to maintain many slaves. The economically disadvantaged individuals in and around Guangdong, who were either native to the area or had migrated to Macao, naturally became targets for acquisition by the Portuguese. This phenomenon is further illustrated in the writings of Francisco missionary Marcelo de Ribadeneira in 1601 who described a famine that occurred in Guangdong in 1595. During this famine, nearly a thousand Chinese children were purchased by the Portuguese.¹⁴ After being baptized, these children were sold to Portuguese territories in India, highlighting the dire circumstances that facilitated the slave trade during this period and the role of natural disasters in exacerbating the vulnerability of impoverished populations.

From the outset, the trade in Chinese slaves around Macao was a persistent aspect of Sino-Portuguese relations. Portuguese merchants not only traded in Asian slaves but also introduced African slaves to Macao, utilizing them in various roles and adding to Macao’s multicultural landscape. Macao emerged as East Asia’s earliest racially diverse society, linking East and West via the global slave trade. However, to the common Chinese, China was the superior ‘Celestial Empire,’ and foreigners were viewed as inferior barbarians. The extensive purchasing of Chinese by these foreigners stirred public unrest and fear, necessitating a response from the Chinese authorities. Also, confronted with the potential deterioration of their diplomatic ties with the Chinese and the looming threat to their commercial interests, the Portuguese were strategically compelled to navigate and adapt to these governmental interventions.

The Chinese Response

In the late Ming Dynasty, officials in Guangdong had complex views about the slave trade between China and Portugal. In 1565, scholar Ye Quan documented in Macao the presence of numerous Chinese children and women enslaved in the households of the Portuguese, highlighting the extent of the Chinese slave trade.¹⁵ Ye, upon witnessing this scene, was overwhelmed with indignation and pity. Similarly, this phenomenon could hardly escape the notice of the local government in Guangdong, especially since the memories of the Portuguese purchasing Chinese children and being regarded as cannibals by the local populace, still lingered from their first arrival in Guangdong in the 1520s.

However, when tackling the slave trade, Guangdong officials focused less on the Portuguese and more on regulating Chinese slave brokers and raising public awareness about the ban on unauthorized trade with the Portuguese. This likely stemmed from their greater emphasis on the trade profits with the Portuguese. Taiwanese scholar Lin Li-yue noted that during the Jiajing era (1521-1567), gentry from Fujian and other coastal regions heavily engaged in and profited from the smuggling trade.¹⁶ To these well-informed local gentry, the Portuguese, despite occasionally engaging in piracy, were seen as beneficial trading partners. This was also the view in Guangdong. A notable instance occurred in 1554 when Wang Bai, the Haidao fushi (deputy maritime commissioner) of Guangdong, negotiated with Leonel de Sousa, dispatched by the King of Portugal, and agreed to allow the Portuguese, some of whom had engaged in piracy, to trade in Guangzhou without raising objections to their subsequent settlement in Macao. This reflected the Guangdong officials’ perception of the Portuguese as merchants who could bring tax revenue to the region rather than as pirate groups. Meanwhile, the Ming government attempted to incorporate the notorious pirate leader Wang Zhi and his followers but ended with his execution in 1560. The differing fates of the Portuguese merchants and the Wang Zhi group seem to confirm that Ming officials valued the tangible trade profits brought by the Portuguese.

The Fujian born scholar, Lin Xiyuan, who had good relations with the Portuguese, condemned the border residents who encouraged the Portuguese to get involved in the slave trade. In 1548, when he was accused by the Grand Coordinator and Concurrently Superintendent of Military Affairs in Zhejiang, Zhu Wan, who was then cracking down on wokou and foreign smugglers, he wrote a letter to his friend Wen Can, the assistant prefect of Zhangzhou, to defend himself and exonerate the Portuguese, ‘Their purchase of children is not without guilt, yet it does not amount to robbery. The slight enticement by the border residents to sell to them is particularly despicable; the blame does not lie solely with them (Portuguese).’¹⁷ Lin’s view that the blame lay not with the Portuguese but more with the Chinese merchants who traded with them privately is also reflected in the prohibition of the slave trade. Pang Shangpeng, who was the investigating censor of Guangdong, wrote to the emperor in the winter of 1564 and was the first Chinese mandarin to deal with the smuggling issue. He stated:

We should repeatedly, and strictly, promulgate laws and regulations for people who deal with the affairs relating to foreigners. Any criminal who trades with foreign ships privately, and coastal residents who join the foreign ships, including those who trade humans and sell them weapons without authorisation, will be sentenced. Let our people know that there is a law that they can be feared, not to be a criminal of being greedy.¹⁸

Peng believed it was crucial to improve the monitoring of waterways and ensure that the public was aware of the ban on private trade with the Portuguese and to curb the activities of Chinese smugglers in Macao. In the same year, Chen Wude, a Supervising Secretary of the Office of Scrutiny for Works, also petitioned for the regulation of trade and taxation of the Portuguese in Macao, mentioning the trade in people between the Chinese and the Portuguese, ‘From the fortified positions in the city, leveraging their substantial wealth, they lure our people, with nothing they cannot obtain, no desire they cannot fulfil. Many craftsmen and artisans were attracted (by the Portuguese), engaging in illicit liaisons, and selling hundreds of men and women annually.’¹⁹ Chen Wude argued that merely enhancing the surveillance of the populace and the Portuguese was insufficient; the internal administration of the government also needed strengthening. He highlighted that individuals within the government were conducting private trade with the Chinese in Macao, stressing the necessity to eliminate such trade.

While local officials around Macao like the magistrates of Xiangshan and Xinhui did take certain actions against Chinese involved in the slave trade, and the Haidao fushi conducted annual inspections of Macao, the effectiveness of such measures against slave traders dealing with the Portuguese inside Macao was predictably limited.²⁰ It was not until 1612 that Guangdong officials began to address the issue in earnest, when an order was sent by Haidao (maritime commissioner) of Canton to the Mandarin of the primary chair at the port of Macao (possibly the governor of Xiangshan county where the local administration governed Macao), instructing that the Portuguese were forbidden from purchasing Chinese children.²¹

In 1613, faced with the growing number of Japanese in Macao, many of whom were slaves purchased by the Portuguese from Japan, the Haidao fushi, Yu Anxing, was dispatched by the governor of Guangdong and Guangxi, Zhang Minggang, and the Guangdong inspector Zhou Yingqi to negotiate with the Portuguese in Macao. One outcome of the negotiations was the agreement by Macao to expel 98 Japanese. Further, Yu Anxing formulated the ‘Maritime Prohibitions’, which included five bans which were inscribed on a stone stele erected in front of the Macao Council Hall in 1617.²² These prohibitions explicitly included a ban on the purchase of Chinese people. The Local gazetteer of Xiangshan County, compiled in 1750, also documented this regulation: ‘All merchants, new and old, are forbidden from buying Chinese people’s children. Should there be violations, once discovered and confirmed, the violators will be pursued by name and legally punished.’²³

However, these records do not clearly indicate how the ban was enforced. Portuguese documents offer a more detailed explanation. The Portuguese contemporary chronicler António Bocarro, in his Decada 13 da Historia da India Decade XIII, wrote the Portuguese version of this prohibition,

Purchasing local men and women is prohibited. After you purchase Chinese people, you shave off all their hair, put them in Portuguese- style clothing, imprison them, and then you ship and sell them like commodities. So many people are sold that the masses complain that I am not concerned with the issue. I have already issued an order to deport all of your slaves across China, and to prohibit you from holding them. I have reported the issue to the censorate. The censorate ordered that navy officers should not host such slaves. You shall not purchase Chinese children anymore. If you see someone purchasing people in Macao, the chief commander for the defence of Macao City, royal judges, and priests shall search for that person and send them to the government officials in Macao. If they are unwilling to submit such persons to the government officials, they can record the name of the purchasers. When such Portuguese go to Guangzhou for trade, they will be arrested and required to confess the buyers and sellers of this business.²⁴

This shows that the deputy maritime commissioner, the governor of Guangdong and Guangxi, and the Guangdong inspector essentially delegated the regulation of the slave trade to the Macao council. The Macao council claimed to adhere strictly to these regulations and hand over the involved Chinese to local Guangdong officials, and the primary responsibility was placed on the Chinese slave brokers residing in Macao. The council argued that ‘Newcomers from India do not understand local customs and laws, and the evil fellows who stay in the local area, seeing them as new people, sell Chinese children to them and deceive them,’ thereby considering the Portuguese merchants to be innocently unaware.²⁵

The edict issued by the Guangdong government to curb the Chinese slave trade in Macao did not produce any significant results. Still, numerous Chinese criminals and deceitful slave traders continued to raid coastal villages, capturing residents and selling them to the Portuguese to make huge profits. In 1628, Yan Junyan, who had passed the imperial examinations in 1621, was appointed judicial commissioner in Guangzhou. Between 1628 and 1630, Yan documented three cases of Guangdongers kidnapping children and selling them to the Portuguese in Macao, illustrating the ineffectiveness of the ban in alleviating the situation.²⁶ In 1634, Zhang Fengyi, the acting Minister of War, submitted a memorial, describing the severe hardships Guangdong had suffered as a result of the incursions of the Macao ‘barbarians’. The memorial said: ‘In every place they reached, smuggled goods such as gunpowder, weapons, children and silk were blatantly transported. Coastal villages suffered from their pillaging and killing, with no one daring to intervene. The officials and soldiers who pursued them were often injured, and their superiors refrained from holding them accountable and simply feigned ignorance.’²⁷ This also indicates that even after 1613, the local officials in Guangdong were not fully committed to eradicating the illegal slave trade.

Despite Yan Junyan’s records and the petitions by Zhang Fengyi and others exposing the widespread practice of selling Chinese slaves to the Portuguese in the Guangdong region, Zhang’s memorial also reflects a lack of commitment on the part of the local government in Guangdong to address the issue, revealing some underlying problems. Firstly, this attitude may stem from the complex web of economic interests between local officials, smuggling syndicates and the Portuguese in Macao, which may have led to conflicts of interest resulting in passive enforcement of the ban. Secondly, the socio-economic conditions of the time provided fertile ground for the slave trade. Poverty, war and social unrest led some people to see the sale of their children as a means of survival, a practice that was to some extent seen as an unfortunate but necessary social reality. In this context, despite clear prohibitions, the local government may have been more inclined to tacitly condone such ‘survival strategies’ than to actively combat them. It can be said that from the second half of the sixteenth century to the first half of the seventeenth century, both subjective and objective reasons led to a comprehensive failure of Chinese efforts to suppress the Portuguese trade in Chinese slaves.

The Response of Portuguese Authority

In the preceding section, the discussion centred on the Chinese authorities’ approach to controlling the slave trade in Macao: they blamed the Chinese slave traders and hoped for cooperation from Macao in arresting Chinese traders and adhering to their prohibitions. However, given the significant profits generated from the slave trade in Macao, it is implausible to assume that the merchants of Macao would willingly forgo such a profitable revenue stream by adhering to Chinese mandates to denounce their Chinese trading partners. A royal decree dated 2 March 1614 condemned the actions of Portuguese merchants purchasing Chinese slaves. The decree mentioned that a Portuguese merchant could purchase a Chinese slave for merely 10 pardaus, and if successfully transported to Manila, the slave could fetch between 120–130 pardaus.²⁸ Antonio Bocarro, when discussing the informal trade route from Macao to Manila in the 1610s, also mentioned that the slaves transported by the Portuguese from Macao to Manila were one of the sources of illegal profits for the merchants on this route.²⁹ This reluctance played a role in undermining the effectiveness of regulatory measures.

Accordingly, the stance of the Portuguese monarchy was pivotal. The Portuguese authorities were already aware of the involvement of Portuguese nationals in the slave trade within East Asian waters. Scholars such as Lucío de Sousa, and Rômulo Ehalt have highlighted the significant issue of the slave trade conducted by the Portuguese in the maritime regions of East Asia.³⁰ They have also discussed the concerted efforts by the Portuguese monarchy to prohibit the trade of Japanese slaves, illustrating the broader context of anti-slavery initiatives within the region.

Indeed, the first official decree banning Asian slaves was promulgated by King Sebastião I of Portugal which prohibited the selling of Japanese. The initial draft of this prohibition was penned by the royal scrivener André Sardinha on 20 September 1570. However, it underwent a subsequent revision and was formally reissued on 6 March 1571, before its official dispatch to Goa in September of the same year. Rômulo Ehalt has observed that the impetus for this revision stemmed from the requisite deliberation by the Portuguese council.³¹ The edict issued under Sebastião's authority stipulated that:

 … informed that the captivity of the gentiles in the kingdom of Japan, and in the parts of India, and the great inconveniences have generated from it. And there are no reasons justified by such captivity, and primarily because of the impediment arose regarding the conversion of the said gentiles. – I wish and order that, from now on, no Portuguese may purchase nor capture any Japanese, and if they purchase or capture any of the said Japanese, those who thus were purchased or captured will be liberated, and besides those who purchased or rescued them will be penalized by confiscating all their possession, half to the treasury and my royal crown, and the other half to whoever denounces them.³²

In this edict, the emphasis was placed on the detrimental impact of the Japanese slave trade on the evangelization efforts in Japan. The initial call for the abolition of Japanese enslavement by the ruler of Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, in 1587 also highlighted these concerns. The Jesuits, recognizing the potential jeopardy the slave trade posed to their missionary work, expressed their disquiet. Luís de Cerqueira, upon his consecration as the Bishop of Japan in 1598, took a decisive stance by threatening excommunication for those engaged in the slave trade. Cerqueira was proactive in seeking support, lobbying not only the Portuguese monarch and the Viceroy of India but also other ecclesiastical figures, urging them to join his cause.

On February 22, 1599, Cerqueira communicated with Baltasar Barreira, the procurator of the Portuguese province, detailing the resolutions made in 1598. He underscored to Barreira the critical importance of enforcing the ban on Japanese slavery for the success of Christian missions in Japan, soliciting Barreira's assistance in realising this objective.³³ Following the issuance of a decree by King Felipe III in 1604, which reaffirmed the prohibition of Japanese enslavement in Goa, the local city council voiced its opposition through a series of protest letters. In response, Felipe III made certain concessions to the Goa council, specifically exempting legally held Japanese slaves from mandatory release. In a correspondence dated 18 January 1607, addressed to the Goa council, Felipe III acknowledged the instrumental role of the Jesuits in advocating for and facilitating the implementation of this decree.

The same council (of Goa) wrote a letter to me that the priests of the Company (of Jesus) tried to enforce a charter according to which the Japanese were not to be enslaved, and that those who were should be freed, which has never been enforced in the thirty or so years since it was first enacted. And they (Jesuits) had obtained from me a tacit confirmation. Therefore, the charter was published during the administration of Aires de Saldanha.³⁴

It seems that the Jesuits were very active in promoting the abolition of Japanese slavery, and probably persuaded Felipe III to reinstate the Sebastian Law of 1570 on the grounds that it harmed Christian missions. From the Japanese slave ban in 1570 to the Portuguese royal decrees in the early seventeenth century prohibiting the use of Japanese slaves in Goa, it is evident that the Portuguese crown prioritized the protection of missionary activities above all other considerations.

What, then, was the Portuguese crown’s attitude to the prohibition of the slave trade in China? It was not until 1595 that a response to the slave trade in China was formulated. On 11 March 1595, the Viceroy of India, recognizing the potential adverse effects that the continued slave trade might impose on their interests in the region, issued a ban on the trade of Chinese slaves:

Many respectful Chinese and the inhabitants of the ports of the kingdom of China are complaining to many of my Portuguese vassals residing in Macao that the Chinese are kidnapped and forced back to their homes and sold to other places. Thus, this is posing a risk for the trade, which fostered by my vassals over many years, of these kingdoms and ports of China with so much quietness and intimacy. And this trade has made plenty of profits to my customs as well as to my vassals. … anyone of whatever quality and condition should not bring or buy any Chinese. No one should not, by any means capture and take them to his vessels. People who are against it will come under the penalty of a thousand cruzados, a third for the people who denounces them, the two-thirds for the expenditure of the said Relaçaõ of India, and furthermore, they will be imprisoned and degraded for two years to the fortress of Damaõ.³⁵

This proactive measure by the Portuguese colonial administration highlights their cognizance of the extensive geopolitical and economic ramifications of the slave trade, alongside their endeavors to avert any detrimental impacts that could compromise their stature and activities in East Asia. The impetus behind the issuance of this prohibition on slavery at this juncture was likely tied to the distant conflict unfolding on the Korean Peninsula  – the Imjin War (1592-1598). At that time, China was engaged in combat against Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s Japanese forces in Korea, leading to heightened sensitivity towards Japanese individuals within China. Concurrently, Macao was home to numerous Japanese Christians and slaves sold into the city. A Chinese spy, Xu Yu, dispatched by Fujian governor Xu Fuyuan in 1592 to Satsuma Japan for intelligence gathering on Japan, returned in 1594 with reports that Portuguese residents in Macao were aiding Japanese individuals to disguise themselves in Portuguese attire, facilitating their infiltration into Guangzhou for espionage.³⁶ This revelation undoubtedly garnered attention among the Portuguese community in Macao, prompting the likely issuance of the 1595 decree to mitigate Chinese hostility towards them by prohibiting the trade of Chinese slaves. On 16 April 1597, the King of Portugal further decreed that any Japanese individuals, whether enslaved or free, were forbidden from bearing swords while in the company of their owners, a measure aimed at preventing potential conflicts between Japanese military slaves and local residents or Chinese soldiers.³⁷

This also illustrates that the Portuguese authorities initially took proactive steps to prohibit the Chinese slave trade primarily to protect their own trading ports and interests instead of focusing on the missionary issue, as they did when confronted with the issue of the Japanese slave trade. Unlike Sebastião’s law in 1570, which mandated the confiscation of all property involved in the slave trade, the penalty stipulated in 1595 decree was set at 1000 cruzados, a relatively lenient measure that underscored the authorities’ primary concern with safeguarding trade rather than eradicating the slave trade outright.

Despite these measures, the decree was not effectively enforced in Macao, and the Portuguese community continued to participate in various forms of slave-related commerce. The situation escalated when the presence of Japanese individuals in Macao and the ongoing Chinese slave trade provoked significant discontent among the Chinese population, compelling the local Guangdong government to address the issue in 1612-1613.

In response to the rising tensions and to alleviate Chinese distrust towards Macao while preventing future trade disruptions, the Viceroy of India took swift action. On 14 April 1613, he issued an order acknowledging the involvement of priests, citizens, and visitors in Macao in the trade of slaves and contraband goods to Manila. Expressing concern over the potential backlash from the Chinese, he prohibited the purchase of Chinese slaves and illegal goods as well as their sale in Manila.³⁸ The decree introduced severe penalties for violators, including the confiscation of their entire property, with half allocated to the royal family and the other half awarded to informants.

This enhanced enforcement of the Chinese slave ban by the Viceroy in 1613, which elevated the cost of violating the decree from 1000 cruzados to the entirety of an offender’s property, reflected a heightened commitment to addressing the grievances of Guangdong officials and protecting Portuguese commercial interests in Macao. The increase in the informant’s reward from a third to half of the confiscated property further incentivized the reporting of such activities. Additionally, on 2 March 1614, the Portuguese King issued a directive to investigate the Bishop of China, João Pinto da Piedade, for harassing a Macao official who was preventing the sale of Chinese people and prohibiting him from receiving the sacrament.³⁹ This illustrates the expanding scope of measures taken to confront and mitigate the challenges posed by the slave trade in Macao.

As previously mentioned, in 1613, the local government of Guangdong and Macao finally reached a treaty that included the prohibition of the trade in Chinese individuals, which was ratified by the emperor in 1617 and formally commemorated with a stele erected in front of the Macao Council. However, the situation regarding the slave trade did not significantly improve, leaving Macao vulnerable to potential accusations. Unfortunately, the outbreak of the 1616 Nanjing incident, the first persecution of Christian missionaries in China, and the subsequent fortification of Macao’s defences to protect from Dutch assaults made it imperative for Macao to avoid provoking the Chinese on the issue of slavery.

Consequently, on 25 February 1622, the King of Portugal issued another royal decree to the Viceroy of India, stating, ‘Francisco Lopez Carrasco was sent to the city of Macao to serve as the chief captain and to see if he could arrange for its fortification to prevent any attacks the Dutch might plan against it … and to ensure that the Chinese (who are a suspicious people) would not become alarmed … It seemed necessary to me to urge you to look into how the fortification of Macao can be effected and to carefully ensure that no Chinese captives (slaves) are taken from that port, as this is a matter that greatly disturbs them.’⁴⁰ The decree, which dispatched Francisco Lopez Carrasco to oversee Macao’s fortification efforts, underscored the dual objectives of the Portuguese: to preempt potential Dutch aggressions and to assuage the anxieties of the Chinese who were wary of the ongoing slave trade. This directive reflects a nuanced understanding of the geopolitical stakes at play, recognizing that the sustainability of Portuguese commercial ventures in Macao hinged not only on military might but also on diplomatic finesse and cultural sensitivity.

The successful defense against the Dutch on 24 June 1622 did not mark an end to Macao’s security concerns; rather, it heralded a renewed commitment to bolstering the city’s defenses. Therefore, on 19 February 1624, another decree was issued to prohibit Chinese slavery once again, while aiming to bolster Macao’s fortifications. The king sought to avoid provoking the Chinese, stating:

You wrote to me in response to what I ordered in my letter of 25 February 1622, regarding how we might proceed to fortify the city of Macao, and to watch over to ensure that no Chinese captives are taken from that port, as it is something that greatly upsets them; and I was pleased to see how things are progressing with the fortification of that city, and to know that measures have been taken to prevent the taking of Chinese captives there. I particularly commend you for the said fortification and ask that you keep me informed about what is being done in this regard, and specifically regarding the Chinese, it is understood that they cannot and should not be made captives.⁴¹

The royal edict clearly reflected the king's concern about provoking Chinese displeasure, especially during a period of heightened military engagement with the Dutch and the concurrent fortification of Macao. This approach serves as a testament to the Portuguese authorities’ continued efforts to reconcile the need for fortification with the importance of maintaining harmonious relations with the Chinese. This delicate balancing act underscored the Portuguese authorities’ efforts to minimize the impact on Macao and its trade revenues, recognizing that the continuation of the slave trade could serve as a catalyst for escalating tensions, potentially destabilizing the fragile socio-political order in Macao. While the enforcement of these decrees prohibiting the Chinese slave trade in Macao may not have been particularly effective, they clearly signalled a strategic posture aimed at demonstrating compliance with Chinese expectations and norms.

Conclusion

Although the sale of slaves, particularly to foreigners, was illegal in China, local officials in Guangdong and Fujian often prioritized trade interests over stringent regulation, viewing Chinese nationals who sold slaves to the Portuguese as the primary culprits. Following the Imjin War, the increase in Japanese slaves in Macao prompted officials to attempt to address the longstanding issue of Chinese slavery. However, this attempt was ultimately ineffective, as enforcement was delegated to Macao’s merchants and council, and the issue remained unresolved until the demise of the Ming dynasty.

On the other hand, the paramount concern for the Portuguese monarchy in East Asia was to maintain their trade profits. It was only after perceiving potential threats to Macao’s status and trade revenues that they belatedly initiated action against the Chinese slave trade in Macao in 1595. Subsequent efforts to bolster Macao’s military defenses against Dutch invasions undeniably risked agitating Chinese sensitivities. In navigating this issue, it became essential to mitigate other potential sources of discontent from the Chinese side, with the slave trade being one such issue.

A British traveller, Peter Mundy, during his 1637 visit to Macao highlighted that impoverished Chinese, driven by debt, resorted to selling their children, indicating the prevalence of Portuguese slave-purchasing practices in China until the late Ming Dynasty. The late Ming era was beset with formidable socio-economic problems, including peasant insurrections, foreign incursions, and fiscal strain. Within this context, certain pro-Christian mandarins in the Ming court, including Xu Guangqi, advocated for military cooperation with Macao, indirectly facilitating a level of tolerance towards the Portuguese slave trade, despite intermittent remonstrations from Chinese during 1620s to 1630s, such as the Minister of Wars, Zhang Fengyi, concerning the slave trade in Macao.⁴² Concurrently, the socio-economic turbulence and downturn during the latter part of the Ming Dynasty, compelling some destitute individuals to commodify their children for survival, further entrenched the slave trade. The slave trade issue continued to trouble local Chinese officials and the Portuguese authorities well into the Qing Dynasty. In 1715, King John V of Portugal ordered the Viceroy of India to prohibit ship captains from transporting slaves from Macao to Goa and other regions with strict penalties for violators. In March 1758, José I finally issued a decree officially abolishing slavery activities in China, and simultaneously issued another decree prohibiting the Bishop of Macao from intervening in the transportation of women from Timor to Macao. This indicates that the problem persisted well into the eighteenth century.⁴³

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Professor Mary Laven (University of Cambridge) who helped me from the very beginning of this work, and also Dr. Kodai Abe (University of Tsukuba), Dr. James Lewis (University of Oxford) and Ms Arisa Nakagoe (University of Tokyo) for their valuable feedback and suggestions.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by The Sasakawa Fund scholarship offered by the Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies, University of Oxford.

Notes on contributors

Yang Liu

Yang Liu is a DPhil candidate in the Faculty of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies, University of Oxford, Pusey Lane, Oxford OX1 2LE, UK.

Notes

1 Most scholars concerned with Chinese slavery in the Ming dynasty have focused only on the domestic slave trade. See Niu Jianqiang, ‘Ming dai nu pu yu she hui’, Shixueyuekan (April 2002): 98-107; Pamela Kyle Crossley, ‘Slavery in Early Modern China,’ in The Cambridge World History of Slavery AD 1420–AD 1804, vol. 3, ed. David Eltis and Stanley L. Engerman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 186–213; Claude Chevaleyre, ‘Insiders by Analogy: Slaves in the Great Ming Code’, Slavery and Abolition 43, no. 3 (2022): 460-81.

2 Lúcio de Sousa, The Portuguese Slave Trade in Early Modern Japan: Merchants, Jesuits and Japanese, Chinese, and Korean Slaves (Brill, 2018); Tatiana Seijas, Asian Slaves in Colonial Mexico: From Chinos to Indians (Cambridge University Press, 2014); Rômulo da Silva Ehalt, ‘Jesuits and the Problem of Slavery in Early Modern Japan’ (PhD diss., Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, 2018); Liu Yang, ‘Lun Mingdai wanqi Putaoyaren de Zhongguo nuli huoqu fangshi’, Renwen ji shehui kexue jikan 37 (forthcoming): 1–38. doi:10.53106/1018189X202309001; also the Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies and Itinerario published special issues on ‘Slavery in Early Modern East, Inner, and Southeast Asia’ in 2021 and ‘Regimes of Bondage: The Encounter between Early Modern European and Asian Slaveries’ in 2023, respectively.

3 Jin Guo-ping and Wu Zhi-liang, Em Busca de História(s) de Macau Apagada(s) pelo Tempo (Associação de Educação de Adultos de Macau, 2002), 253-4.

4 Sousa, The Portuguese Slave Trade, 11-47.

5 The term wokou directly translates to ‘Japanese pirates’, a designation reflecting their early composition and activities that predominantly involved raiding and plundering the coastal regions of China during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Initially, the ranks of the wokou were primarily filled by individuals of Japanese origin in the Kyushu area, though some Japanese scholars claim that there were also Koreans involved. However, the demographic shifted significantly post-sixteenth century, with the majority of these pirates being of Chinese descent, though the group remained a heterogeneous mix. This transition underscores a complex interplay of regional dynamics and changing socio-political landscapes in East Asia during this period. About the Japanese pirates/wokou in the sixteenth century, see So Kwan-Wai, Japanese Piracy in Ming China during the 16th Century (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1975); Lim Ivy Maria, Lineage Society on the Southeastern Coast of China: The Impact of Japanese Piracy in the 16th Century (Amherst, N.Y: Cambria Press, 2010); Robert J Antony ed., Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smugglers Violence and Clandestine Trade in the Greater China Seas (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2010).

6 Aida Hiroshi, ‘Higashiajia doreibōeki to wakō’, in Higashiajia sekaishi tankyū, ed. Weizao Teng et al., (Tōkyō: Kyūko Shoin, 1986), 204.

7 Luís Fróis, História de Japam I (Lisboa: Biblioteca National, 1976), 215.

8 João de Barros, Ásia de João de Barros: Dos Feitos Que Os Portugueses Fizeram no Descobrimento e Conquista dos Mares e Terras do Oriente: Terceira Década (Lisboa: Agência Geral das Colónias, 1946), 307.

9 Zheng Shungong, Riben yijian (Reproduced according to the old photocopied version, Beijing: Wendiange, 1939), fascicle 6: 11b.

10 Zheng Xiao, Huangming siyi kao (1564; rpt., Taibei: Huawen Shuju, 1968), 501.

11 Ling Yiqu, Lingzhongjiegong zouyi, Chongzhen era (1628-1644) imprint, fascicle 8: 7a-9b. For this version, I used the photocopied version offered by the Erudition database.

12 James Fujitani, ‘Sino-Portuguese Trafficking of Children during the Ming Dynasty’, Itinerario 47, no. 3 (2023): 322–3.

13 Pietro Tacchi-Venturi ed., Opere Storiche del P. Matteo Ricci S. J. II (Macerata: F. Giorgetti, 1913), 364-5.

14 Ribadeneira, Marcelo de, Historia de las islas del archipielago Filipino y reinos de la Gran China, Trataria, Cochinchina, Malaca, Siam, Cambodge y Japón (Barcelona: en la emprenta de Gabriel Graells y Giraldo Dotil, 1601), Libro segundo, Cap. IIII, 105.

15 Ye Quan, Xianbo bian with Lingnan Travel Notes. (1565; rpt., Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 1987), 46.

16 Lin Li-yue, ‘Mingnan shishen yu Jiajing nianjian de haishang zousi maoyi’, Bulletin of Historical Research of National Taiwan Normal University 8 (1980): 91-111.

17 Lin Xiyuan, Tong’ang linciya xiansheng wenji (1612; rpt., Tainan: Zhuanyan wenhua shiye youxiangongsi, 1997), vol.5, 539.

18 Pang Shangpeng, Baiketing zhaigao, fascicle 1:66, in Siku Quanshu Cunmu Congshu jibu, (1599; rpt., Jinan: Qilu Shushe, 1997), vol. 129, 131.

19 Chen Wude, Xieshanlou cungao, fascicle 1: 32-33, in Siku Quanshu Cunmu Congshu jibu, (1789; rpt., Jinan: Qilu Shushe, 1997), vol. 138, 423-4.

20 Shengjin Tian, An yue shu gao, (photocopy version collected in the Bodleian Library, University of Oxford), fascicle 3:15a.

21 Biblioteca da Ajuda, Jesuítas na Ásia, 49-V-3, f. 36v, the original term for ‘the primary chair at the port of Macao’ was ‘mandarim da pr^ao cadoiras do porto del Macao’.

22 Kaijian Tang and Qing Wu, ‘Ming ji yuju Aomen de Riben Jidutu ji Guang dong zhengfu de guanzhi yu fangfan’, Zhonghua wenshi luncong no. 89 (2008): 201–42.

23 The Palace Museum ed., Guang dong fu zhou xiang zhi (Hainan: Hainan Chubanshe, 2001), vol. 14, 83.

24 António Bocarro, Decada 13 da Historia da India Decade XIII (New York: Kraus Reprint, 1976), II, pp. 725–6.

25 Bocarro, Decada 13, II, pp. 731–2.

26 Junyan Yan, Mengshuizhai Cundu (1632; rpt., Beijing: China University of Political Science and Law Press, 2002), 256, 275–6.

27 Mingdang bingbu tixing gao, in Zhongguo Diyi Danganguan, Macau Foundation, and Jinandaxue Gujiyanjiusuo (eds.), Mingqingshiqi aomen wenti danganwenxian huibian, (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1999), vol. 1, 16.

28 Pato Raymundo Antonio de Bulhão ed., Documentos Remetidos da India: Ou Livros das Monções (Lisboa: Academia Real das Sciencias, 1885), III, 99-101.

29 Bocarro, Decada 13, II, 697-8.

30 See the works of Sousa, The Portuguese Slave Trade; Ehalt, ‘Jesuits and the Problem’.

31 Ehalt, ‘Jesuits and the Problem’, 205-7.

32 Joaquim Heliodoro Da Cunha Rivara, Archivo Portuguez-oriental (hereafter APO) (New Delhi: Asian Educational Services, 1992), 5-II, 791-3.

33 Biblioteca de la Real Academia de Historia, Cortes, 566 (9/2666), maço 21, f. 273-f. 276v. For this manuscript I used the microfilm version offered by the shiryōhensan-jo (The Historiographical Institute) of the University of Tokyo, and also there is a transcription of this document in Juan Ruiz de Medina, Orígenes de la Iglesia Catolica Coreana desde 1566 hasta 1784 según documentos inéditos de la época (Rome: Institutum Historicum S.I., 1986), 114-122.

34 Pato ed., Documentos Remetidos da India: Ou Livros das Monções (Lisboa: Academia Real das Sciencias, 1882), I, 109.

35 APO, III, pp. 537-8. Relaçaõ is a regional court of appeal in Portuguese India.

36 Chen Zilong, Ming jing shi wen bian, (1638; rpt., Beijing: zhonghua shuju, 1962), 4336–7

37 APO, III, 763-4.

38 APO, VI, 946.

39 Pato ed., Documentos Remetidos da India, III, 99-101.

40 Academia Real das Cie^ncias de Lisboa ed., Documentos Remetidos da India (Lisboa: Imprensa Nacional-casa da Moeda, 1982), VIII, 18-9.

41 Academia Real das Cie^ncias de Lisboa ed., Documentos Remetidos da India: Ou Livros das Monções (Lisboa: Imprensa Nacional-casa da Moeda, 1982), X, 191.

42 About the recruitment of Portuguese soldiers and military assistance by the Ming government in the 1620s-1630s, see Dong Shaoxin and Huang Yi-nong, ‘Chongzhen nianjian zhaomu pubbing xinkao’, Lishiyanjiu 5 (2009): 65-86.

43 C.R. Boxer, Fidalgos in the Far East, 1550–1770 (Hong Kong ; London: Oxford University Press, 1968), 236-41.