September

September arrives in Nagasaki with a freshness in the air, and with it comes a decisive turning point in Sebastian Rodrigues' imprisonment. One afternoon, the interpreter visits him in his cell and announces that he is to meet someone. The interpreter's jesting manner and the deliberate delay—he repeatedly goes out and returns, complaining that a palanquin is late—signal that this encounter has been carefully orchestrated by the magistrate Inoue. Rodrigues, by now listless and indifferent, is carried through the city in a closed palanquin, his senses overwhelmed by the sounds and smells of ordinary life from which he has been so long isolated. He feels a sudden, desperate longing to talk to others, to be like other people, to plunge into daily life—a sign of how deeply his resolve has been eroded.

The Meeting at Saishoji

The palanquin stops at a small temple called Saishoji, bathed in evening light. There, following on the heels of an old monk, walks Christovao Ferreira in a black kimono, his eyes cast down. The stocky, self-confident monk emphasizes the servility of the tall Ferreira, who looks like a big animal reluctantly trailed along with a rope around its neck. Rodrigues, trembling, calls out "Father!" but Ferreira remains silent, a challenging smile on his lips. The priest notices that Ferreira has shaved off his well-groomed beard, a change that gives his appearance a terrible sensuality and marks the depth of his transformation. The interpreter and the bonze watch intently, their condescending curiosity adding to the humiliation of the scene.

Ferreira's Justification and Revelation

Ferreira breaks his silence with a rapid, defensive monologue. He explains that he is translating a book on astronomy at the magistrate's order, and that he is of some use to Japan through his knowledge of medicine and surgery. He insists, "I am not useless in this country. I can perform some service." Rodrigues recognizes this as a desperate attempt to justify his existence, a clinging to the old dream of helping others. The interpreter then reveals a deeper cruelty: Ferreira is also writing a book called Gengiroku to refute the teaching of Deus and show the errors of Christianity. Rodrigues cries out, "Cruel! Worse than any torture!" and sees a white tear glistening in Ferreira's eye. Ferreira shows the scar behind his ear from the pit torture, and describes how he was hung upside down, unable to move, while blood trickled from incisions behind his ears. He then delivers the argument that will shatter Rodrigues: "This country is a swamp. In time you will come to see that for yourself. Whenever you plant a sapling in this swamp the roots begin to rot; the leaves grow yellow and wither."

The Swamp Argument

Ferreira presses his case with a terrible sincerity that Rodrigues cannot dismiss as mere self-deception. He claims that the Japanese never truly believed in the Christian God, but twisted him into something of their own making, like a butterfly caught in a spider's web that becomes only a skeleton. "The Japanese till this day have never had the concept of God; and they never will," he declares. Rodrigues protests, citing the martyrs he has seen with his own eyes—Mokichi and Ichizo bound to stakes, the one-eyed man killed in daylight, the woman who gave him a cucumber drowned in the sea. But Ferreira insists that these people did not die for the Christian God, but for their own distortion of him. The argument leaves Rodrigues with a bitter resignation, and he whispers, "You are not the Ferreira I knew." Ferreira answers, "True. I am not Ferreira. I am a man who has received from the magistrate the name of Sawano Chuan. And not only the name. I have received the wife and children of the executed man."

Aftermath and the Seeds of Apostasy

Returned to his cell, Rodrigues sits staring at the wall, haunted by Ferreira's words. He tries to convince himself that Ferreira was merely defending his own weakness, but a gust of fear seizes him as he wonders if what Ferreira said might be true. The idea that Christianity has perished not because of persecution but because of something in Japan that stifles its growth takes root in his mind. He recalls Ferreira's sadness and realizes that the old man had deliberately avoided speaking of the martyrs who were stronger than himself. Rodrigues finds some self-respect in comparing his own loneliness to Ferreira's, but the encounter has already done its work: the foundation of his faith has been cracked, and the path to his own apostasy, which will occur later that same night, has been laid.