Chapter 901 – Dutch Telescope

Zhang Dai's family possessed an extensive library. Combined with such an environment, he himself was broadly learned—well-versed in the classics, histories, philosophers, and literary collections; knowledgeable in astronomy and geography. Though he'd never achieved official success through the examinations, he was devoted to writing. Throughout his life, his brush never rested. He left behind many works, the most famous being Dream Memories of Tao'an and Night Ferry, which all the transmigrators had read.

Beyond his vast learning, he was also a hedonistic wastrel who excelled at the art of enjoyment. In his own writing, he described himself thus: "In my youth I was a spendthrift young dandy, passionately fond of luxury. I loved fine studios, beautiful maidservants, handsome pages, fresh clothes, delicious food, fine horses, brilliant lanterns, fireworks, theatrical troupes, wind and string ensembles, antiques, flowers and birds—and I was a glutton for tea, obsessed with tangerines, a bookworm and poetry demon." He embodied both the prodigal extravagance of a wealthy young man and the indulgent, nihilistic hedonism of late-Ming literati.

Such a figure held little value in the eyes of the Senate. But to the Foreign Intelligence Bureau, he was an important personage.

Zhang Dai was not merely a prolific writer, widely learned, and skilled at pleasure—he was also a member of the Restoration Society, which wielded powerful influence over late-Ming politics. Though he wasn't a politically ambitious man, he'd participated in many Restoration Society activities and was close to several of its key figures. Of course, Zhao Yingong thought, such a personality would be welcomed everywhere.

Jiangnan was the Restoration Society's home base; their local power was formidable. The Society not only controlled the "public discourse" of Jiangnan literati but also, to some extent, influenced the policies of local officials. Many local officials were themselves Restoration Society or Donglin members. If Zhao Yingong wanted to operate in Jiangnan, securing the Society's support—or at least its tacit acceptance—was critical.

Zhang Dai was "a wastrel with deep cultural attainments." Clearly, Lingao's "clever contraptions" could more quickly win him over. Zhao Yingong's eager gaze immediately fixed on the tower-ship ahead.

"What place is that up ahead?" he asked. "Why is Master Zhang's boat moving so fast?"

Cai Shi replied, "Your Honor, the dragon boats have come out. Everyone's hurrying to watch."

Zhao Yingong nodded. "Follow them. We'll watch the dragon boat races too."

In most places, dragon boat races were held on the fifth day of the fifth month—the Duanwu Festival. But on Hangzhou's West Lake, races had been held twice yearly since the Song dynasty. Besides the Duanwu race, another was held on the eighth day of the second month, supposedly in honor of Wu Zixu—or, according to some, for the birthday of Zhang the True Lord of Cishan.

The second dragon boat race on West Lake began on the first of the fifth month and continued through the tenth. Townsfolk and country folk alike—farmers, artisans, merchants—anyone whose family wasn't going hungry would come to see the spectacle.

Hearing the guest's orders, the boatmen hastened to pole and row toward Huxin Pavilion, where the dragon boats were gathering.

The lake around Huxin Pavilion was already crowded with vessels of all sizes. Besides the various pleasure boats, there were also "big viewing boats" for ordinary spectators. The boats were so close their bows and sterns nearly touched—a bustling scene. Even the transmigrators, who'd seen their share of spectacles, were moved by such flourishing splendor.

Looking only at this scene, where were the signs of a dynasty on the brink of collapse? It seemed like an unprecedented golden age!

Zhao Yingong was still lost in thought when suddenly a dripping wet head broke the water's surface, one hand raised aloft, holding a long, golden object. In the sunlight, it reflected a brilliant flash.

The transmigrators on the observation deck were startled. This was the glint of glass! Xu Ke grew tense:

"Old Zhao! What is that?"

Zhao Yingong said nothing. He immediately instructed Cai Shi: Get that thing.

Cai Shi hurried to the bow and exchanged a few words, then came running back, panting:

"Your Honor! He's demanding an entire qian of silver for that brass tube—no idea what it's even for. It's highway robbery..."

Zhao Yingong cut him off mid-sentence: "Give it to him. Get it here!"

Cai Shi hurried to comply. Moments later, he brought back the "brass tube." Zhao Yingong snatched it, extended and retracted it once, then raised it to his eye. No mistake. This was a single-tube telescope.

Finely wrought brass double-section barrel; hand-ground glass lenses—all evidence that this was a Dutch-made telescope, recently invented in this timeline. Even in Europe, these were quite rare. The Foreign Intelligence Bureau knew Tang Yunwen had one; a few officials and wealthy families in Guangdong had them too. Besides Ming military officers, most people treated them as exotic Western toys.

He hadn't expected to find such a telescope in Hangzhou! Of course, there was a Catholic church here, and missionaries might well have gifted such "clever contraptions" to local gentry and officials to curry favor—just as Matteo Ricci had done in Guangdong and Beijing.

Xu Ke took it and looked it over. "Magnification isn't high. Two-power at most."

"It's a Galilean telescope," said Zhou Dongtian. "A simple little thing, structurally speaking."

Galilean telescopes were the earliest type—simple in principle, easy to manufacture. But their magnification was extremely limited, and they suffered from distortion and other problems. Eventually they were relegated to children's telescopes and opera glasses.

But in this timeline, they were still vital military assets. Who could possibly own such a rare Western import? And why would they throw it into the lake?

Such rare Western goods couldn't simply be measured in monetary terms. During his "internship" in Guangzhou, Zhao Yingong had seen Dutch telescopes imported from Europe, priced at thirty or forty taels of silver. At the time, telescopes were considered mere "toys"—market demand was tiny. Because demand was low, unlike glassware, Western cloth, spices, or ivory—which arrived frequently—only ten or twenty might be imported in a year or two. Extremely hard to come by. An owner would never casually throw one into West Lake for amusement.

Zhou Dongtian examined it carefully. "Seems like it's been in the lake for a while. Not freshly dropped."

The barrel was already full of water, with traces of silt and aquatic weeds—not the sort of thing that could happen in an instant on the lake bottom. It had probably been dropped several days ago and only now happened to be retrieved by a dragon boat swimmer.

Zhou Dongtian suddenly asked, "Old Zhao, what do you make of this? It looks like characters."

Zhao Yingong took it and examined it closely. The characters were engraved in extremely fine intaglio on the barrel; without holding it up to the light and looking carefully, they were almost invisible.

"Made and used by the Foolish One of Longmian."

The script was entirely in small seal. If Zhao Yingong hadn't practiced calligraphy diligently during his training, these characters would have been indecipherable. He thought it over. "Foolish One of Longmian" should be someone's hao, a literary sobriquet. Given that he'd specifically had characters engraved on the barrel, he clearly cherished this telescope. It certainly hadn't been thrown into the lake for amusement—more likely he'd accidentally dropped it.

Zhao Yingong smiled. "A pity we don't know who this 'Foolish One of Longmian' might be. But I can make some inferences about him."

Xu Ke and Zhou Dongtian both laughed. "Who knew you were a great detective? Do tell."

Zhao Yingong deduced: This person was a scholar from a well-off family—ordinary folk wouldn't spend silver on such an impractical curiosity. Without a certain level of cultural cultivation, he wouldn't have engraved seal script on a telescope. He had a strong interest in new things—otherwise he wouldn't have bought such an obscure Western item. The telescope had been lost at the bottom of the lake, meaning he'd been to West Lake several days ago, probably to watch the dragon boats. He likely had some contact with the Hangzhou Catholic Church or Catholic literati—the telescope probably came from them.

"...Finally, I estimate he's young—probably a youth."

"That's not certain. Though young people are mostly the ones interested in new things, Sun Yuanhua and Xu Guangqi were both middle-aged when they first encountered Catholicism and Western science. That didn't make them hidebound," Xu Ke pointed out.

Zhao Yingong said, "I feel young people are more likely to show off their novel toys. Look at who's constantly waving around an iPhone—adolescents. Once you're over thirty, even if you buy an iPhone, you're not going to carry it around all day. So I feel this person is thirty at most."