Journey to the West (vol. 1)

by Wu Cheng-En

  Since being ordained and then joining our order

  You cared for and guarded me travelling West.

  We hoped to complete our great journey together.

  Who would have thought you would here to go rest?

  Your life's only aim was collecting the scriptures,

  And even when dead on the Buddha you ponder.

  Now far, far away you true spirit is waiting;

  As a ghost will you climb to the temple of Thunder.”

  “Master,” said Pig when he heard this, “there's no need for an invocation like that. Friar Sand, fetch me some gruel and I'll make an invocation.” Then the idiot said, snorting with anger as he lay tied up on the ground,

  “Trouble-making monkey,

  Ignorant Protector of the Horses.

  The monkey deserved to die,

  The Protector had to fry.

  The Monkey found it too hot,

  The Protector's had his lot.”

  When Monkey at the bottom of the cauldron heard the idiot abusing him like that he could not restrain himself from turning back into himself, standing up in the cauldron, and saying, “Dreg-guzzling moron! Who do you think you're swearing at?”

  “Disciple,” said Sanzang on seeing him, “you gave me a terrible fright.”

  “Big Brother's used to shamming dead,” said Friar Sand. The civil and military officials were thrown into such a panic that they went forward to report to the king.

  “Your Majesty, the monk did not die. He has just stood up in the cauldron.” The officer supervising the executions was afraid that he would be in trouble for having earlier made a false report to the king, so he submitted a new one: “The monk did die, but as this is an ill-omened day he has come back as a ghost to haunt us.”

  This made Monkey so angry that he sprang out of the cauldron, wiped the oil off himself, put on his clothes, pulled out his cudgel, and hit the supervisor of the executions so hard that his head turned to a meatball. “A ghost, indeed,” he said, giving the officers such a fright that they untied Pig, fell to their knees, and pleaded, “Forgive us, forgive us.” As the king came down from his dragon throne Monkey went into the hall, seized hold of him, and said, “Don't go, Your Majesty. Make the Third Teacher of the Nation get into the cauldron of oil now.”

  “Third Teacher of the Nation,” said the king with much trembling, “you must get into the cauldron at once to save my life.

  “Don't let the monk hit me.” Antelope Power then went down from the throne hall and like Monkey took off his clothes, jumped into the oil, and went through the motions of washing himself.

  Monkey let the king go, went up to the cauldron, and told those tending the fire to add more fuel. Then he put out his hand to feel and found to his astonishment that the bubbling oil was icy cold.

  “It was boiling hot when I had my bath,” he thought, “but it's cold for his. I'm sure that one of the dragon kings must be protecting him.” He leap straight up into midair, said the magic word “Om,” and summoned the Dragon King of the Northern Ocean.

  “I'll get you, you horned worm, you loach with scales on,” said Monkey. “How dare you help the Taoist by protecting the bottom of the cauldron as a cold dragon and letting him beat me in this display of divine powers!”

  The dragon king was so frightened that he kept making respectful noises as he replied, “I'd never have dared help him. There is more to this than you realize, Great Sage. That evil beast has strenuously cultivated his conduct, shaken off his original shell, and has only really kept his five-thunder magic. In all other respects he has taken the path of heresy and could never return to the true Way. This is the 'Great Opening-up' that he learned on Lesser Mount Mao. The other two have already had their powers defeated by you, Great Sage, and reverted to their true appearances. The cold dragon this one uses is one that he created for himself, but it is only a trick with which to fool common mortals: it could not deceive you, Great Sage. I shall now take that cold dragon under my control, and guarantee that his skin and bones will now be fried to a crisp.”

  “Hurry up about it if you don't want a beating,” said Monkey, at which the dragon king changed into a fierce gust of wind that seized the cold dragon and carried it off to the sea.

  Monkey now came down to earth and stood beside Sanzang, Pig and Friar Sand in front of the throne hall watching the Taoist struggling without success to climb out of the boiling oil. Then the Taoist slipped back into the cauldron, and in an instant his bones came apart as his skin was fried crisp and his flesh cooked tender.

  The official supervising the executions came in again to report, “Your Majesty, the Third Teacher of the Nation has been deep-fried to death.” The tears gushed from the king's eyes as he struck the table by the throne and cried aloud,

  “Hard is the gaining of life and hard is its end;

  Elixir never refine without true instruction.

  Vainly the spirits are raced and water-spells made;

  Pills that can make you immortal are only a fiction.

  Nirvana can never be won by a mind in disorder;

  Cunning is useless when all it can cause is destruction.

  Had I been warned that all could so easily fail,

  I'd have kept to the diet and chosen a life of inaction.”

  Indeed:

  There was no use in the golden touch and in making elixir;

  Calling up wind and summoning rain all ended in failure.

  If you do not know how the master and his disciples continued, listen to the explanation in the next installment.

  Chapter 47

  The Holy Monk Is Stopped by the River of Heaven at Night

  Metal and Wood in Their Mercy Rescue a Child

  The king collapsed on his throne in tears and cried till nightfall. Then Monkey stepped forward and called out, “Don't be so silly. Look at those Taoists' bodies. One was a tiger and the other was a deer. Antelope Power was an antelope. If you don't believe me, have his bones fished out and take a look at them. Is that a human skeleton? They were all mountain beasts who became spirits and came here to destroy you. The only reason they had not struck yet was because your life force is still strong; but in another couple of years when your life force was weaker they would have murdered you and your whole kingdom would have been theirs. You are very lucky that we came here in time to destroy their evil and save your life. What are you crying for? Give us our passport at once and let us go.”

  This finally brought the king to his senses, and then the civil and military officials reported together, “The first two who died were indeed a white deer and a yellow tiger; and the cauldron contains the bones of an antelope. The holy monk must be believed.”

  “If that is the case I must thank the holy monk,” said the king, who then said to his tutor, “it is late now, so please take the holy monks to the Deep Wisdom Monastery. Tomorrow morning the Eastern hall of the palace shall be opened up and the royal kitchens shall lay on a vegetarian banquet as a mark of our thanks.” They were then taken to the monastery, where they slept that night.

  Shortly before dawn the next morning the king held an audience at which he ordered the officials to issue a notice to be posted at the four gates of the city and on every road recalling Buddhist monks. While the banquet was being set out the king went in his carriage to the gates of the Deep Wisdom Monastery to invite the Tang Priest and his disciples to the banquet in the Eastern hall of the palace.

  When the Buddhist monks who had escaped learned of the notice they all returned in delight to the city to find the Great Sage Monkey, return his hairs, and thank him. When the banquet was over the king returned Sanzang the passport and escorted him out through the gates of the palace with his queen, consorts and concubines and the civil and military officials, The Buddhist monks could be seen kneeling beside the road and calling out, “Great Sage Equaling Heaven, we are the monks your lordship saved on the sandbank. Now that we have heard that you lordship has destroyed those evil beings and saved
us, and His Majesty has issued a notice recalling us monks, we have come to return your hairs and kowtow in gratitude.”

  “How many of you are there here?” Monkey asked.

  “All five hundred: we are not one short.”

  Monkey then shook himself and took the hairs back before saying to king, subjects, monks and lay people alike, “It was I who released these monks, it was I who took the cart through the two gates and along the ridge before smashing it, and it was I who killed those evil Taoists. Now that the evil has been destroyed you will realize that there is a Way in the Buddha's faith. From now on you must have no more foolish beliefs. I hope that you will combine the three teachings by honoring both the Buddhist clergy and the Way of Taoism, and by also educating men of talent in the Confucian tradition. I can guarantee that this will make you kingdom secure for ever.” The king accepted this advice and expressed his gratitude at great length as he accompanied the Tang Priest out of the city.

  Because they were seriously seeking the scriptures,

  They strove to maintain their brightness of spirit.

  Setting out at dawn and not stopping till nightfall, they drank when thirsty and ate when hungry. Before they realized it spring and summer were over and it was autumn again. Late one day the Tang Priest reined in his horse and asked, “Where shall we spend the night, disciples?”

  “Master,” said Monkey, “a man of religion shouldn't talk like a layman.”

  “What is the difference in the way they talk?” Sanzang asked.

  “At a time like this,” said Monkey, “a layman would be fast asleep in a warm bed wrapped up in a quilt with his child in his arms and a wife to keep his feet warm. We monks can't expect anything like that. We have only the moon and the stars to cover us with. We dine on the wind and sleep in the dew. We travel when we can find a way and only stop when there's no way forward.”

  “Brother,” said Pig, “you only know half of the story. The trail is very steep now and I can barely manage my heavy load. We've got to find somewhere where I can get a good night's sleep and build myself up to carry my load tomorrow. Otherwise I'm going to collapse from exhaustion.”

  “Let's go a little further in the moonlight,” said Monkey. “When we reach a house we can stay there.” Master and disciples had no choice but to carry on with Monkey.

  They had not been going for long when they heard the sound of waves. “That's done it,” said Pig. “We've come to the end of the road.”

  “There's a river in our way,” said Friar Sand.

  “How are we going to get across?” asked the Tang Priest.

  “Let me test it for depth,” said Pig.

  “Don't talk nonsense, Wuneng,” said Sanzang. “How could you test the water for depth?”

  “Find a pebble the size of a goose egg and throw it in,” Pig replied. “If it makes a big splash the water's shallow; and if it goes down with bubbles the water's deep.”

  “Test it then,” said Monkey. The idiot then picked up a stone and threw it into the water; they heard the bubbles rising as the stone sunk.

  “It's deep, too deep,” he said, “we'll never get across.”

  “You have tested for depth,” said the Tang Priest, “but we don't know how wide it is.”

  “I can't tell that,” said Pig.

  “Let me have a look,” said Monkey. The splendid Great Sage sprang up into mid-air on his cloud and took a good look. What he saw was:

  The light of the moon immersed in the vastness,

  The floating reflection of the limitless sky.

  The magical stream has swallowed Mount Hua;

  Hundreds of rivers flow into its waters.

  Waves in their thousands rise and then fall,

  Towering breakers crash without number.

  No fisherman burns his fire by the shore;

  The herons are all now asleep on the sand.

  It is as turbid and huge as the ocean,

  And there is no end to its water in sight.

  Monkey brought his cloud quickly down, put it away, and reported, “It's wide, Master, very wide. We'll never get across it. My fiery eyes with their golden pupils can see there hundred miles by day and distinguish good from evil too. By night they can see a hundred to a hundred and fifty miles. If even I can't see the other bank goodness only knows how wide it is.”

  Sanzang was speechless with shock, then he sobbed, “What are we to do, disciples?”

  “Don't cry, Master,” said Friar Sand. “There's someone standing by the river over there.”

  “I expect it's a fisherman working his nets,” said Monkey. “I'll go and ask him.” Monkey took his iron cudgel in his hand and was before the man in two or three bounds, only to discover that it was in fact a stone tablet on which was inscribed in an ancient script three words in large letters and nine words in two rows of little ones underneath. The three words written large were RIVER OF HEAVEN, and the words in small writing were “ 250 miles across; few travelers have ever been here.”

  “Master,” called Monkey, “come and take a look.”

  When Sanzang read this he said through his tears, “Disciple, when I left Chang'an all those years ago I thought that the Western Heaven would be easy to get to. I never knew that so many evil monsters would block my way, or that there would be such enormous mountains and rivers to cross.”

  “Listen, Master,” said Pig. “Where is that sound of drums and cymbals coming from? It must be people holding a religious feast. Let's go and get some of the food to eat and find out where there is a boat that will ferry us across tomorrow.” When Sanzang listened as he sat on the horse he could hear that it really was the sound of drums and cymbals.

  “Those aren't Taoist instruments,” he said. “It must be some Buddhist monks performing a ceremony. Let's go there.” Monkey led the horse as they headed towards the music. There was no track to follow as they climbed and then lost height again and crossed sand banks until a village of some four or five hundred households came into sight. It was a fine settlement:

  Protected by hills, beside the main road,

  On the bank of the river, and watered by a stream.

  All the wicket gates were shut;

  Every household's bamboo fence was closed.

  Clear were the dreams of the egrets on the strand,

  Silent the song of the birds by the willows.

  No sound came from the flute,

  Nothing was heard of the chopping-board's rhythm.

  The moon was rocked in stalks of knotweed;

  The leaves of the rushes trembled in the wind.

  Beside the fields the dogs barked through the fence;

  The fisherman slept in his boat moored by the ford.

  Few were the lights amid the stillness,

  And the moon hung like a mirror in the sky,

  A smell of duckweed wafted over

  Carried by the wind from the Western bank.

  When Sanzang dismounted he saw a house at the end of the road outside of which hung a silken banner. Inside it was bright with candles and lanterns, and there were clouds of incense.

  “Wukong,” said Sanzang, “this is much better than a mountain hollow or the bank of a stream. Under the eaves we will be able to relax and sleep soundly, protected from the chilly dew. You all keep out of the way while I go to the gates of the believer's house that is giving the religious feast to ask for shelter. If they invite me in I shall call you over. But don't start playing it up if they don't invite me in. If you show your ugly faces you might give them a terrible fright and cause trouble, and then we would have nowhere to stay.”

  “You're right,” said Monkey. “You go ahead, Master, while we wait here.”

  The venerable elder then took off his rain hat, straightened his habit, took his monastic staff in his hand and went bareheaded to the gates, which were ajar. Not venturing to walk in uninvited, Sanzang stood there for a while until a very old man with prayer-beads round his neck who was repeating the name of Amitabha B
uddha came out to shut the gate.

  Sanzang at once put his hands together before his chest and said, “I salute you, benefactor.” The old man returned his greeting then said, “You're too late, monk.”

  “What do you mean?” Sanzang asked.

  “You're too late to get anything,” the old man said. “If you had been here earlier we were giving each monk a good meal, three pints of polished rice, a piece of white cloth, and ten copper cash. Why have you only come now?”

  “Benefactor,” Sanzang replied, “I am not here to collect offerings.”

  “If you're not here for offerings, what are you here for then?” the old man asked.

  “I have been sent by the Emperor of the Great Tang in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven,” Sanzang replied. “It was already late when I reached this village, and I have come here to beg for a night's shelter because I heard the drums and cymbals. I will be on my way at dawn.”

  The old man shook his hand at him as he replied, “Monk, men of religion should not tell lies. Great Tang in the East is 18,000 miles from here. How could you have come from there by yourself?”

  “You are quite right, benefactor,” said Sanzang. “I have only been able to reach here because I have three disciples who protect me. They clear paths across mountains and build bridges across rivers.”

  “If you have these disciples,” the old man said, “why aren't they with you? But do come in. We have room for you to stay here.”

  Sanzang then looked back and called, “Come here, disciples.”

  As Monkey was impatient by nature, Pig coarse, and Friar Sand impetuous, the moment they heard their master calling they grabbed the horse's bridle and the luggage and ran in, hell-bent for leather. The sight of them gave the old man such a shock that he collapsed, muttering, “Demons, demons.”