by Wu Cheng-En
“Holy monk,” he said, “I would also like to give you this as you leave.” As Sanzang took it sitting on horseback, he thanked the old man for his generosity.
As Sanzang was on the point of clasping his hands together to take his leave of him, the old man disappeared, and on turning round to look at the temple, the monk could see nothing but a stretch of empty land. He heard a voice saying in the sky, “Holy monk, we have been very abrupt with you. We are the mountain god and the local deity of Potaraka Island, and we were sent by the Bodhisattva Guanyin to give you the saddle and bridle. You two are now to make for the West as fast as you can, and not to slacken your pace for a moment.”
Sanzang tumbled out of the saddle in a panic, and worshipped the heavens, saying, “My eyes of flesh and my mortal body prevented me from recognizing you, noble gods; forgive me, I beg you. Please convey my gratitude to the Bodhisattva for her mercy.” Look at him, kowtowing to the sky more often than you could count. The Great Sage Sun Wukong, the Handsome Monkey King, was standing by the path overcome with laughter and beside himself with amusement. He went over and tugged at the Tang Priest.
“Master,” he said, “get up. They're already much too far away to hear your prayers or see your kowtows, so why ever are you doing that?”
“Disciple,” Sanzang replied, “what do you mean by standing beside the path sneering at me and not even making a single bow while I've done all those kowtows?”
“You don't know anything,” Monkey retorted. “A deceitful pair like that deserve a thrashing. I let them off out of respect for the Bodhisattva. That's quite enough: they couldn't expect me to bow to them too, could they? I've been a tough guy since I was a kid, and I don't bow to anyone. Even when I meet the Jade Emperor or the Supreme Lord Lao Zi I just chant a 'na-a-aw' and that's all.”
“You inhuman beast,” said Sanzang, “stop talking such nonsense. Get moving, and don't hold us up a moment longer.” With that Sanzang rose to his feet and they set off to the West.
The next two months' journey was peaceful, and they only met Luoluos, Huihuis, wolves, monsters, tigers, and leopards. The time passed quickly, and it was now early spring. They saw mountains and forests clad in emerald brocade as plants and trees put out shoots of green; and when all the plum blossom had fallen, the willows started coming into leaf. Master and disciple traveled along enjoying the beauties of spring, and they saw that the sun was setting in the West. Sanzang reined in his horse to look into the distance, and in the fold of a mountain he dimly discerned towers and halls.
“Wukong,” he said, “can you see if there's anywhere we can go there?” Monkey looked and said, “It must be a temple or a monastery. Let's get there quickly and spend the night there.” Sanzang willingly agreed, and giving his dragon horse a free rein he galloped towards it. If you don't know what sort of place it was that they were going to, listen to the explanation in the next installment.
Chapter 16
The Monks of the Guanyin Monastery Plot to Take the Treasure
The Monster of the Black Wind Mountain Steals the Cassock
The master whipped on his horse and hurried straight to the temple gate with his disciple to have a look. They saw that it was indeed a monastery:
Hall upon hall,
Cloister after cloister.
Beyond the triple gates
Countless coloured clouds are massed;
Before the Hall of Five Blessings
Coil a thousand wisps of red mist.
Two rows of pine and bamboo,
A forest of locust and cypress trees.
The two rows of pine and bamboo
Are ageless in their elegant purity;
The forest of locust and cypress trees
Has color and beauty.
See how high the drum and bell towers are,
How tall the pagoda.
In peaceful mediation the monks make firm their natures,
As birds sing in the trees outside.
Peace beyond mortal dust is the only true peace;
Emptiness with the Way is the real emptiness.
As the poem goes,
A supreme Jetavana hidden in a green valley,
A monastery set in scenery unbeaten in the world.
Such pure lands are rare on earth;
On most of the famous mountains dwell monks.
Sanzang dismounted, Monkey laid down his burden, and they were just on the point of going in when a crowd of monks came out. This is how they were dressed:
On their heads they wore hats pinned on the left,
On their bodies were clothes of purity.
Copper rings hung from their ears,
And silken belts were tied around their waists.
Slowly they walked on sandals of straw,
As they held wooden clappers in their hands.
With their mouths they were always chanting
Their devotion to the Wisdom.
When Sanzang saw them he stood respectfully beside the gate and greeted them. A monk hastily returned his greeting and apologized for not noticing them before.
“Where are you from?” he asked, “please come to the abbot's rooms and have some tea.”
“I have been sent from the East on an imperial mission to worship the Buddha in the Thunder Monastery and ask for the scriptures,” Sanzang replied, “and as it is almost night we would like to ask for a night's lodging now that we are here.”
“Come inside and sit down, come inside and sit down,” the monk said. When Sanzang told Monkey to lead the horse over, the monk was frightened at the sudden sight of him and asked, “What's that thing leading the horse?”
“Keep your voice down,” Sanzang urged, “keep your voice down. He has a quick temper, and if he hears you referring to him as 'that thing,' he'll be furious. He's my disciple.”
The monk shuddered and bit his finger as he remarked, “Fancy taking a monstrously ugly creature like that for a disciple.”
“He may not look it,” Sanzang replied, “but ugly as he is, he has his uses.”
The monk had no choice but to go through the monastery gate with Sanzang and Monkey, and inside they saw the words CHAN MONASTERY OF GUANYIN written in large letters on the main hall. Sanzang was delighted.
“I have often been the grateful beneficiary of the Bodhisattva's divine mercy,” he exclaimed, “but I have not yet been able to kowtow to her in thanks. To worship her in this monastery will be just as good as seeing her in person.” On hearing this, the monk, ordering a lay brother to open the doors, invited Sanzang to go in and worship. Monkey tethered the horse, put the luggage down, and went up into the hall with Sanzang, who prostrated himself and put his head on the floor before the golden statue. When the monk went to beat the drum, Monkey started striking the bell. Sanzang lay before the image, praying with all his heart, and when he had finished the monk stopped beating the drum. Monkey, however, was so engrossed in striking the bell, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, that he went on for a very long time.
“He's finished his devotions,” a lay brother said, “so what are you still beating the bell for?”
Monkey threw down the bell hammer and said with a grin, “You're ignorant, aren't you? 'Whoever is a monk for a day strikes the bell for a day': that's me.” By then all the monks in the monastery, senior and junior, as well as the abbot and his assistant, had been so startled by the wild noises from the bell that they all came crowding out to ask what savage was making such a din with the bell and drum. Monkey jumped out and cursed them: “Your grandfather Sun Wukong was having some fun.”
All the monks collapsed with shock at the sight of him and said as they knelt on the ground, “Lord Thunder God, Lord Thunder God.”
“The Thunder God is my great grandson,” Monkey replied. “Get up, get up, you've nothing to fear. I'm a lord from the land of the Great Tang empire in the East.” The monks all bowed to him, and could not feel easy until Sanzang appeared.
“Please come and drink tea in my rooms,
” said the abbot of the monastery. The horse was unloaded and led off, while they went round the main hall to a room at the back where they sat down according to their seniority.
The abbot gave them tea and arranged for food to be brought, and after the meal it was still early. As Sanzang was expressing his thanks, two servant boys appeared behind them supporting an aged monk. This is what he looked like:
A Vairocana miter on his head
Topped with a gleaming cat's-eye jewel.
On his body a gown of brocade,
Edged with gold-mounted kingfisher feathers.
A pair of monkish shoes studded with the Eight Treasures,
A walking stick inlaid with Clouds and stars.
A face covered with wrinkles,
Like the Old Goddess of Mount Li;
A pair of purblind eyes,
Like the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea.
His mouth can't keep out the wind as his teeth have gone;
His back is bent because his muscles are stiff.
“The Patriarch has come,” the monks all said. Sanzang bowed low to him in greeting and said, “Your disciple pays his respects, venerable abbot.” The aged monk returned his greeting and they both sat down.
“The youngsters have just told me that gentlemen have come from the Tang Empire in the East,” he said, “so I have come out to see you.”
“Please forgive us for blundering into your monastery so rudely,” Sanzang replied.
“Don't put it like that,” the aged monk said, going on to ask, “How long a journey is it from the Eastern lands to here?”
“It was over sixteen hundred miles from Chang'an to the Double Boundary Mountain, where I took on this disciple,” Sanzang replied. “We traveled on together through the land of Kami, and as that took two months we must have covered getting on for another two thousand miles before reaching here.”
“Over three thousand miles,” said the aged monk. “I have spent a life of piety and have never been outside the monastery gates, so you could really say that I have been 'looking at heaven from the bottom of a well,' and call mine a wasted life.”
“How great is your age, venerable abbot?” Sanzang asked.
“In my stupid way I have lived to be two hundred and seventy,” the old monk replied.
“Then you're my ten-thousandth-great grandson,” put in Monkey.
“Talk properly,” said Sanzang, glaring at him, “Don't be so disrespectful and rude.”
“How old are you, sir?” the aged monk asked.
“I don't venture to mention it,” Monkey replied. The aged monk then thought that he must have been raving, so he put the matter out of his mind, said no more about it, and ordered tea to be brought for them. A young page brought in three cloisonne teacups on a jade tray the color of mutton fat, and another carried in a white alloy teapot from which he poured out three cups of fragrant tea. It had a better color than pomegranate blossom, and its aroma was finer than cassia. When Sanzang saw all this he was full of praise.
“What splendid things,” he said, “what splendid things. Wonderful tea in wonderful vessels.”
“They're not worth looking at,” the old monk replied. “After all, sir, you come from a superior and heavenly court, and have seen many rare things in your wide travels; so how can you give such exaggerated praise to things like that? What treasures did you bring with you from your superior country that I could have a look at?”
“I'm afraid our Eastern land has no great treasures, and even if it did, I would have been unable to bring them on so long a journey.”
“Master,” put in Monkey, who was sitting beside him, “isn't that cassock I saw in our bundle the other day a treasure? Why don't I take it out for him to see?” When the monks heard him mention the cassock, they smiled sinister smiles.
“What are you smiling at?” Monkey asked.
“We thought it was very funny when you said that a cassock was a treasure,” the abbot of the monastery replied. “A priest of my rank has two or three dozen, and our Patriarch, who has been a monk here for two hundred and fifty or sixty years, has seven or eight hundred.” He ordered them to be brought out and displayed. The old monk, who was also in on the game, told the lay brothers to open the store-rooms, while friars carried twelve chests out into the courtyard, and unlocked them. Then they set up clothes frames, put rope all around, shook the cassocks open one by one, and hung them up for Sanzang to see. Indeed, the whole building was full of brocade, and the four walls covered with silk.
Monkey examined them one by one and saw that some were made of brocade and some were embroidered with gold.
“Enough, enough, enough,” he said. “Put them away, put them away. I'll bring ours out for you to take a look at.”
Sanzang drew Monkey aside and whispered to him, “Disciple, never try to compete with other people's wealth, you and I are alone in this foreign land, and I'm afraid that there may be trouble.”
“What trouble can come from letting him look at the cassock?” Monkey asked.
“You don't understand,” Sanzang replied. “The ancients used to say, 'Don't let greedy and treacherous men see rare or amusing things.' If he lays his eyes on it, his mind will be disturbed, and if his mind is disturbed, he's bound to start scheming. If you were cautious, you would only have let him see it if he'd insisted; but as it is, this is no trifling matter, and may well be the end of us.”
“Don't worry, don't worry,” said Brother Monkey, “I'll look after everything.” Watch as without another word of argument he rushes off and opens the bundle, which is already giving off a radiant glow. It still had two layers of oiled paper round it, and when he removed it to take out the cassock and shake it open the hall was bathed in red light and clouds of coloured vapours filled the courtyard. When the monks saw it their hearts were filled with delight and their mouths with praise. It really was a fine cassock.
Hung with pearls of unrivalled quality,
Studded with Buddhist treasures infinitely rare.
Above and below a dragon beard sparkles,
On grass-cloth edged with brocade.
If it is worn, all demons are extinguished;
When donned it sends all monsters down to hell.
It was made by the hands of heavenly Immortals,
And none but a true monk should dare put it on.
When the aged monk saw how rare a treasure it was, his heart was indeed disturbed. He went up to Sanzang and knelt before him. “My fate is indeed a wretched one,” he lamented, tears pouring down his cheeks. Sanzang helped him to his feet again and asked, “Why do you say that, venerable patriarch?”
“You have unfolded this treasure of yours, sir,” the aged monk replied, “when it is already evening, so that my eyes are too dim to see it clearly. That is why I say my fate is wretched.”
“Send for a candle and take another look,” Sanzang suggested.
“My lord, your precious cassock is already shining brightly, so I don't think I would see more distinctly even if a candle were lit,” replied the aged monk.
“How would you like to look at it then?” asked Sanzang.
“If, sir, you were in your mercy to set aside your fears and let me take it to my room to examine it closely during the night, I will return it to you in the morning to take to the West. What do you say to that?” This request startled Sanzang, who grumbled at Brother Monkey, “It's all your fault, all your fault.”
“He's nothing to be frightened of.” Monkey replied with a grin. “I'll pack it up and tell him to take it away to look at. If anything goes wrong, I'll be responsible.”
As there was nothing he could do to stop him, Sanzang handed the cassock to the old monk with the words, “I'll let you take it, but you must give it back to me tomorrow morning in the condition it's in now. I won't have you getting it at all dirty.”
The old monk gleefully told a page to take the cassock to his room, and instructed the other monks to sweep out the front meditation hall, mo
ve two rattan beds in, spread out the bedding on them, and invite the two gentlemen to spend the night there; he also arranged for them to be given breakfast and seen off the next morning. Then everyone went off to bed. Sanzang and his disciple shut the doors of the meditation hall and went to sleep.
After the old monk had tricked them into giving him the cassock, he held it under the lamp in the back room as he wept and wailed over it. This so alarmed the monks that none of them dared go to sleep before he did. The young page, not knowing what to do, went to tell the other monks, “Grandad's still crying although it's getting on for eleven.” Two junior monks, who were among the old man's favorites, went over to ask him why he was crying.
“I'm crying because my accursed fate won't allow me to see the Tang Priest's treasure,” he said; to which they replied, “Grandad, in your old age you have succeeded. His cassock is laid before you, and all you have to do is open your eyes and look. There's no need for tears.”
“But I can't look at it for long,” the aged monk answered. “I'm two hundred and seventy this year, and I've collected all those hundreds of cassocks for nothing. However am I to get hold of that one of his? However am I to become like the Tang priest?”
“Master, you've got it all wrong,” the junior monks said. “The Tang Priest is a pilgrim far from home. You should be satisfied with your great seniority and wealth; why ever would you want to be a pilgrim like him?”
“Although I live at home and enjoy my declining years, I've got no cassock like his to wear,” the aged monk replied. “If I could wear it for a day, I would close my eyes in peace. I'd be as happy as if I were a monk in my next life.”