by Wu Cheng-En
“Stop your wild imaginings, Master,” replied Monkey, “and calm yourself. Of course nothing will happen.”
“But why is the journey to the Western Heaven so hard, disciple?” asked Sanzang. “As I recall I have been through four or five years of springs, summers, autumns and winters since leaving the city of Chang'an. Why haven't I got there yet?”
The question made Monkey chuckle: “It's early yet. We're not even out of the front door.”
“Stop lying, brother,” said Pig. “There's no such front door on earth.”
“But we're still wandering around in the hall,” said Monkey.
“Don't try to intimidate us by talking so big,” said Friar Sand. “There couldn't possibly be a hall as large as this: there's nowhere you could buy roof-beams big enough.”
“If you look at it my way, brother,” said Monkey, “the blue sky is the roof tiles, the sun and the moon are the windows, and the Four Mountains and Five Peaks are the pillars and beams. Heaven and earth are just like a big hall.”
“That's enough of that,” said Pig. “Why don't we just stroll around for a while then go back?”
“Don't talk nonsense,” said Monkey. “Keep going with me.”
The splendid Great Sage shouldered his iron cudgel, calmed the Tang Priest down, and cleared their way forward through the mountains. As the master gazed at it from his horse he saw that it was a splendid mountain view. Indeed:
The towering peak touches the Dipper's handle;
The tops of the trees seem to reach the clouds.
From banked-up mists of blue
Comes the cry of the ape in the valley-mouth;
Deep in the turquoise shadows
Cranes call among the pines.
As the wind howls mountain sprites appear in the gullies,
Playing tricks on the wood-cutters;
Crafty foxes sit on the edge of rock-faces,
To the terror of hunters.
A splendid mountain,
Its every face towering and sheer.
Strange-shaped pines spread their bright green canopies;
From withered old trees hang vines of wisteria.
As spring waters fly through the air
The cold breeze cuts through and chills.
Where the crag towers aloft
A pure wind strikes the eye and startles the dreaming soul.
Sometimes the roar of the tiger is heard,
And often the songs of the mountain birds.
Herds of deer and muntjac make their way through the brambles,
Leaping and jumping;
River-deer and roebucks look for their food,
Rushing and scurrying.
Standing on the grassy slope,
No traveler can one see;
Walking deep in the hollows,
All around are jackals and wolves.
This is no place for a Buddha's self-cultivation,
But a haunt of birds and beasts.
The master trembled as he advanced deep into these mountains, his heart gripped with terror. Reining in his horse, he called out,
“After I grew in wisdom and took my vows,
His Majesty escorted me from the capital.
On my journey I met three wayward ones
To help me along as I rode in the saddle.
Over Hillside and gully I seek the scriptures,
Climbing many mountains to worship the Buddha.
Guarding myself as if behind a fence,
When will I return to visit the royal palace?”
Monkey's reaction to hearing this was to say with a mocking laugh, “Don't worry, Master, and don't be so anxious. Just take it easy and carry on. Besides, you're bound to succeed because you're such a trier.” Master and disciples strode forward, enjoying the mountain scenery. Before they realized it the sun had sunk in the West. Indeed:
From the ten-mile pavilion no travelers leave,
In the ninefold heavens the stars appear,
On the eight streams the boats are all in harbor,
In seven thousand cities the gates have been shut.
From the six palaces and five departments the officials have gone;
On the four seas and three rivers the fishing lines rest.
In the two towers the drum and bell sound;
One bright moon fills the earth and sky.
Looking into the distance the venerable elder saw many lines of towers and great halls, one behind another. “Disciples,” said Sanzang, “it's getting late now. Luckily there are those towers and halls nearby. I think they must belong to a Buddhist or Taoist monastery or convent. Let's spend the night there and be on our way again in the morning.”
“You're right, Master,” said Monkey, “but be patient. Wait till I've had a look to see whether it's a good or an evil place.” The Great Sage leapt up into the air and examined it very closely. It was indeed a Buddhist monastery. He could see
A tiled wall plastered with red,
Golden studs on both the gates.
Line behind line of towers, amid the hills,
Hall upon hall concealed within the mountains.
The Building of Ten Thousand Buddhas faces the Tathagata Hall,
The Sunshine Terrace opposite the Hero Gate.
The seven-storied pagoda gathers night mists,
The three Buddha statues show their glory.
The Manjusri Tower next to the monks' dormitory,
The Maitreya Pavilion beside the Hall of Mercy.
Outside the Mountain Tower the green lights dance,
Purple clouds rise from the Void-pacing Hall.
The green of the pines joins the green of the bamboo,
All is purity in the abbot's meditation hall.
In quiet elegance the music is performed,
And all the streams rejoice as they return.
In the place of meditation dhyana monks teach;
Many instruments play in the music room.
On the Terrace of Wonder the epiphyllum flower falls,
Before the preaching hall the palm of scripture grows.
The place of the Three Treasures is shaded by the woods;
The mountains guard the Indian prince's palace.
Along the walls the burning lamps shine bright;
The air is thick with smoke from incense sticks.
Bringing his cloud down to land, Sun the Great Sage reported to Sanzang, “Master, it's a Buddhist monastery, and it will be a good place to spend the night. Let's go there.” The venerable elder let his horse go forward again, and they went straight on till they were outside the monastery gate. “Master,” asked Monkey, “what monastery is this?”
“It's most unreasonable to ask that,” Sanzang replied, “when my horse has only this moment stopped and I haven't even had the time to take my foot out of the stirrup.”
“But you've been a monk since childhood, venerable sir,” said Monkey. “You were taught Confucian books before you studied the sutras and the dharma. You're very widely educated and on top of that you've been shown great kindness by the Tang Emperor. So how come you can't read those great big letters over the gate?”
“You stupid macaque,” cursed the venerable elder, “you don't know what you're talking about. I was urging my horse Westwards and had the sun in my eyes. Besides, the letters are hidden by the dust. That's why I didn't see them.” At this Monkey bowed, made himself over twenty feet tall, wiped the dust away with his hand, and invited his master to read them. There were five words written large: IMPERIALLY FOUNDED PRECIOUS WOOD MONASTERY. Monkey resumed his normal size and asked the master which of them was to go into the monastery to ask for lodging.
“I will,” said Sanzang. “You are all so ugly, coarsely spoken, abrasive and overbearing that you might give the monks here such a fright that they refused to shelter us. That would be no good.”
“In that case, Master,” replied Monkey, “enough said. Please go in.”
Sanzang laid down his monastic staff, removed his cape, ne
atened up his clothes, put his hands together and went in through the monastery gates. Behind red lacquered railings on either side two vajrapani guardian gods sat on high. These statues were both majestic and hideous:
One's iron face and steel whiskers seemed to be alive,
The other's scorched brow and bulging eyes were exquisitely carved.
On the left were fists knobbly like pig iron,
To the right were hands as rough as copper ore.
Their golden chainmail gleamed in the light,
Helmet and embroidered sash floated in the breeze.
Many worship the Buddha in the West;
Red glows the incense in stone tripods.
When Sanzang saw these statues he nodded, sighed and said, “If we had people in the East who could make big statues like these to burn incense to and worship I'd never have needed to go to the Western Heaven.” With more sighs he went through the inner gates of the monastery, where could be seen statues of Four Heavenly Kings, Dhrtarastra, Vaisravana, Virudhaka and Yirupaksa, set to the East, North, South and West to ensure the proper amounts of wind and rain. Once inside the inner gates he saw four lofty pines, each with a spreading canopy shaped like a parasol. He suddenly looked up to see the main Buddha hall. Placing his hands together in homage he prostrated himself before the images, then rose, walked round the platform on which the Buddha statues sat, and went out by the back door. He saw that at the back of the Buddha statues was one of the Bodhisattva Guanyin saving all beings in the Southern Sea. The craftsmanship was superb: there were figures of shrimps, fish, crabs, and turtles with heads and tails emerging from the composition as they leapt and played in the ocean waves.
The venerable elder nodded several more times, and sighed over and over again, “Oh dear! If all the creatures of scale and shell worship the Buddha, why is it that man alone will not live virtuously?”
As he sighed a monk came out through the innermost gate. Seeing Sanzang's remarkable and distinguished appearance he hurried up to him, greeted him courteously, and said, “Where are you from, reverend sir?”
“I have been sent by His Majesty the Tang Emperor,” Sanzang replied, “to worship the Buddha in the Western Heaven and fetch the scriptures. As we have reached your illustrious monastery at evening I request that we be allowed to spend the night here.”
“Reverend Sir,” said the monk, “please don't be angry with, me, but it's not for me to decide. I'm just a lay brother who sweeps and strikes the bell and does menial duties. We have a reverend abbot inside who is in charge here and I'll have to report to him. If he allows you to stay I'll come out again with an invitation, but if he doesn't then I'm afraid I won't be able to waste any more of your time.”
“Thank you for your trouble,” said Sanzang.
The lay brother hurried inside to report to the abbot, who was also the superintendent of ecclesiastical affairs, “There's someone outside, sir.” The abbot rose, dressed himself in his miter and his vestments, and quickly opened the doors to let him in.
“Where is he?” he asked the lay brother.
“Can't you see him over there, behind the main hall?” the lay brother replied.
Sanzang, who was leaning against the gateway, was bareheaded and wearing a monastic habit made of twenty-five strips of cloth and a pair of dirty, water-stained Bodhidharma sandals. At the sight of him the abbot said to the lay brother, “You need a lot more floggings yet, brother. Don't you realize that I hold high office in this monastery and only receive the gentry who come from town to burn incense here? How could you be so empty-headed as to ask me to receive a monk like that? Just look at his face. You can see he isn't honest. He's probably a wandering mendicant monk asking for lodging here because it's late. Our lodgings are not to be disturbed by the likes of him. He can spend the night squatting under the eaves. Why tell me about him?” With that he turned and walked away.
Sanzang, who heard all this, had tears running down his face. “Alas,” he said, “alas. How true it is that 'a man away from home is dirt.' I have been a monk since I was a boy. I have never
'Absolved the dead when eating meat
Or thought of doing harm,
Or read the Sutras angrily,
Or reflected without calm.
Nor have I
Thrown roof tiles, or heaved a brick
To harm a temple building,
Or ever scraped from arhat's face
The very precious gilding.
Oh dear! Goodness only knows in what existence I did such harm to Heaven and Earth that I should always be meeting evil people in this one. Even if you will not give us a night's lodging, monk, why did you have to say such disgraceful things, and tell us to squat under the front eaves? It's a good thing you said nothing like that to Wukong. If you had he would have come in here and smashed your feet with his iron cudgel.”
“Oh well, never mind,” thought Sanzang. “As the saying goes, manners maketh man. I'll go in, ask him and see what he decides.”
The Master walked in through the gate to the abbot's lodgings, where he saw the abbot sitting with his outer clothes off and seething with fury. Sanzang did not know from the pile of paper on his table whether he was reading scripture or writing out Buddhist pardons for somebody.
Not venturing to go any further in, Sanzang stood in the courtyard, bowed, and called aloud, “My lord abbot, your disciple pays his respects.”
The monk, apparently very irritated that he had come in, barely acknowledged his greeting and asked, “Where are you from?”
To this Sanzang replied, “I have been sent by His Majesty the Great Tang Emperor to worship the living Buddha in the Western Heaven and fetch the scriptures. It was because I have reached your illustrious monastery at nightfall that I have come to ask for lodging. I'll leave before first light tomorrow. I beg, venerable abbot, that you will show me kindness.”
Only then did the abbot make a slight bow and ask, “Are you Tang Sanzang?”
“Yes, I am.”
“If you are going to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures, how is that you don't know the way?”
“I've never been here before,” said Sanzang.
“About a mile and a half to the West is Ten Mile Inn,” said the abbot, “where they sell food and you can put up for the night. It would not be convenient for you monks from far away to stay here.”
“There is a saying, abbot,” replied Sanzang, “that 'Buddhist and Taoist monasteries and convents are all rest-houses for us monks; the sight of the temple gate is worth a big helping of rice.' You can't refuse us. What do you mean by it?”
“You wandering monks,” roared the abbot in fury, “you've all got the gift of the gab, haven't you?”
“Why do you say that?” asked Sanzang, to which the abbot replied, “There's an old saying that goes,
When the tiger came to town,
Every household shut its door.
Although he'd bitten no one yet,
Tiger's name was bad before.”
“What do you mean, 'Tiger's name was bad before?'“ asked Sanzang.
“Some years ago,” the other replied, “a group of itinerant monks came and sat down at our gates. Seeing how wretched they were-their clothes all torn, barefoot and bareheaded-I was sorry for them being so ragged. So I asked them into my quarters, gave them the best places to sit, provided them with a meal, lent each of them an old habit, and let them stay for a few days. Little did I imagine that the free food and the free clothing would put all thought of leaving out of their minds. They stayed for seven or eight years. Staying wasn't so bad, but it was all the terrible things they did.”
“What terrible things?” asked Sanzang. “Listen while I tell you,” replied the abbot,
“When idle or bored they threw bricks around,
Or tore out the studs from the monastery walls.
On cold days they burnt all the window-frames up,
Slept outside in summer on dismantled doors.
“They
ripped up the banners to make themselves foot-cloths,
Traded our incense and ivory for turnips,
Stole oil from the lamp that never goes out,
And gambled away all our cauldrons and dishes.”
“Oh dear,” thought Sanzang on hearing this, “I'm not a spineless monk like them.” He was on the point of tears, but then thought that the abbot might mock him, so he discreetly dried them with his clothes, held back his sobs, and hurried out to see his three disciples.
At the sigh of his master's angry expression Monkey asked him, “Master, did the monks in there beat you up?”
“No,” replied Sanzang.
“They must have,” said Monkey, “or why else did I hear sobbing? Did they tell you off?”
“No,” said Sanzang. “They did not tell me off.”
“If they didn't beat you or reproach you, why look so upset?” asked Monkey. “Don't tell me it's because you're homesick.”
“This is not a good place,” said the Tang Priest.
“They must be Taoists here,” said Monkey with a grin.
“You only get Taoists in a Taoist temple,” retorted Sanzang angrily. “In a Buddhist monastery there are Buddhist monks.”
“You're hopeless,” said Monkey. “If they're Buddhist monks they're like us. As the saying goes, 'All in the Buddhist community are friends.' You sit here while I take a look around.”
The splendid Monkey touched the gold band round his head, tightened his kilt, went straight into the main shrine-hall, pointed at the three Buddha statues and said, “You may only be imitations made of gilded clay, but you must have some feeling inside. I'm here this evening to ask for a night's lodging because I'm escorting the holy Tang Priest to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures in the Western Heaven. Announce us this instant. If you don't put us up for the night I'll smash you gilded bodies with one crack of this cudgel and show you up for the dirt that you really are.”
While Monkey was indulging in this bad temper and bluster a lay brother responsible for burning the evening incense had lit several sticks and was putting them into the burner in front of the Buddhas. An angry shout from Monkey gave him such a fright that he fell over. Picking himself up he saw Monkey's face, at which he collapsed again, then rolled and staggered to the abbot's cell, where he reported, “Reverend sir, there's a monk outside.”