Journey to the West (vol. 1)

by Wu Cheng-En

“I'll get you, you evil beast,” said Monkey, swinging his iron cudgel. “Come to the bank and I'll kill you with this.”

  “I am grateful to you, Great Sage, and have offered in good faith to carry you master and you disciples across the river, so why do you want to kill me?” the monster asked.

  “What good turn have I ever done you?” Brother Monkey asked.

  “Great Sage,” said the Soft-shelled Turtle, “you may not realize that the River Turtle's Residence at the bottom of the river is my home, which was handed down to me by many generations of ancestors. Because I acquired awareness of the fundamental and developed a divine spirit by cultivating my conduct I had my ancestral home rebuilt as the River Turtle's Residence. Nine years ago, on a day when the sea was roaring and the waves were crashing, that evil monster came here on the tide and used his power to make a vicious attack on me. He killed many of my children and captured many of my clan. As I was no match for him I had to let him take my home for nothing. Now that you have come to rescue the Tang Priest, Great Sage, and have asked the Bodhisattva Guanyin here to sweep away evil and capture the monster my house has been returned to me and my family reunited. We can now live in our old home instead of having to make mud shelters. That is why my gratitude to you is as great as a mountain and as deep as the sea. And it is not only my family that is grateful. The whole village will now be spared from the annual sacrifice, and the sons and daughters of many a family will be spared. You have indeed brought double benefits with a single action, and that kindness is one that I have to repay.”

  Monkey's heart was warmed to hear this, so he put his cudgel away and asked, “Is all that really true?”

  “How could I possibly lie to the Great Sage who has done me so very great a kindness?” the Ancient Soft-shelled Turtle asked.

  “If it's the truth you must swear an oath to Heaven,” Monkey said, whereupon the Ancient Soft-shelled Turtle opened his red mouth and swore to Heaven, “If I do not faithfully carry the Tang Priest across the River of Heaven may my whole body be turned to blood.”

  “Come ashore, come ashore,” said Monkey with a smile. Only then did the Ancient soft-shelled Turtle approach the shore, give a jump, and climb up the bank. When they all went close they saw that he had a huge white shell about forty feet around.

  “Master,” said Monkey, “let's climb on his back and cross over.”

  “But, disciple,” said Sanzang, “we could not get across that ice even though it was frozen so thick. I'm afraid that we would be even less safe on a turtle's back.”

  “Do not be afraid, Master,” said the Ancient Soft-shelled Turtle. “I'm much safer than those thick layers of ice. I'll only fail in my spiritual endeavors if I roll to the side.”

  “Master,” said Monkey, “no creature that can speak human language will tell a lie.” He then told Pig and Friar Sand to lead the horse forward.

  When they reached the banks everyone in the village came to see them off with deep bows. Monkey led the animal on to the turtle's white shell and asked the Tang Priest to stand to the horse's right, Pig to its left, and Friar Sand behind it while he stood in front. Just in case the Soft-shelled Turtle tried to misbehave, Monkey undid his belt of tiger sinew, threaded it through the turtle's nose, and held it like a halter. Then with one foot on the turtle's shell and one on its head, and with his iron cudgel in one hand and the halter in the other, he shouted, “Take it easy, Ancient Soft-shelled Turtle. One roll from you and I'll hit you on the head.”

  “I'd never dare, I'd never dare,” the turtle said, and he started to walk across the water on his four feet as if going across dry land. All the people on the bank burnt incense, kowtowed, and recited, “Namo Amitabha Buddha.” This had indeed been a case of a true arhat coming down to the mortal world, and the appearance of a living Bodhisattva. Everyone bowed, watched them until they could be seen no more, and then went home.

  In less than a day the master rode the White Soft-shelled Turtle across the 250 miles of the River of Heaven and landed on the other side with hands and feet still dry. When he had climbed ashore Sanzang put his hands together in thanks, and said, “Ancient Soft-shelled Turtle, I have put you to a great effort but I have nothing I can give you. I shall have to express my gratitude when I come back with the scriptures.”

  “There is on need for any presents, venerable sir,” said the turtle. “I hear that the Lord Buddha in the Western Heaven has gone beyond death and life and knows everything in the past and the future. I have been cultivating my conduct here for over 1,300 years, and although I have prolonged my life and learned human speech I cannot escape from my shell. I beg you, venerable sir, to ask the Lord Buddha on my behalf when I will be rid of this shell and able to take human form.

  “I shall ask, I shall ask,” Sanzang promised, at which the Ancient Soft-shelled Turtle plunged back into the water and Monkey helped Sanzang to mount the horse. With Pig shouldering the luggage and Friar Sand walking alongside, master and disciples took the main trail West. Indeed:

  The emperor sent the priest on his journey to visit the Buddha;

  Great were the hardships and long was the road over river and hill.

  Firm was his will and sincere was his heart: for him death held no terror.

  The River of Heaven he crossed standing high on the old turtle's shell,

  If you don't know how much further they had to go, or what other terrible trials faced them, listen to the explanation in the next installment.

  Chapter 50

  Feelings Run Wild and Nature Gets Loose Because of Desire

  In Confusion of Spirit the Heart Is Disturbed and the Demon Encountered

  The poem goes:

  The heart must be frequently swept,

  The dust of emotions removed,

  Lest the Buddha be trapped in the pit.

  Only when the essence is pure

  Can the origin then be discussed.

  Trim the candle of nature,

  Breathe in the way that Master Caoxi taught,

  Control the ape and horse of the mind.

  Only when breath is calm by day and night

  Can one achieve the true adept's skill.

  This poem is set to the tune Nan Ke Zi and it tells how the Tang Priest escaped disaster under the ice of the River of Heaven and crossed to the other bank on the shell of the white turtle. As the four pilgrims headed West it was now the depths of winter, but the mists in the forests were still light, and the bony shapes of the mountains could be seen rising in their purity above the waters. As master and disciples carried on along their way, they were obstructed by a big mountain. The road was rocky, and they and the horse found the going rough. Sanzang reined the horse in and called for his disciples.

  Monkey led Pig and Friar Sand forward to stand in attendance and asked, “Master, what are your instructions?”

  “You can see how high the mountain in front of us is,” said Sanzang. “I am worried that there may be tigers, wolves, monsters and demon beasts who will kill us. You must be very careful.”

  “Don't worry, Master,” said Monkey. “We three brothers have got on very well together since we were converted to the pursuit of the truth. With our magic powers to put down demons and monsters we've got nothing to fear from tigers, wolves or demons.” This greatly reassured Sanzang, who pressed ahead. When he reached the mouth of a gully and urged the horse up the slope he raised his head and saw that it was a splendid mountain:

  Towering crags,

  A steep and lofty range.

  Towering crags pierced the heavens,

  The steep and lofty range blocked out the azure shy.

  Grotesque rocks were piled like sitting tigers,

  Twisted, slanting pines seemed to fly like dragons,

  Beautifully sang the birds on the ridge,

  Heavy hung the scent of plum blossom by the scar.

  Cold was the sluggish flow of the stream,

  And menacing hung the dark clouds over the peak.

  They s
aw whirling snow,

  And an icy wind

  Howling with the roar of hungry mountain tigers.

  Cold rooks could find no perches in the trees

  And wild deer did not know the way back home.

  Hard it was indeed for the traveler to make progress

  As he frowned with worry and covered up his head.

  The four of them were trembling in the cold and the snow as they crossed that high ridge and saw in a distant hollow high towers and elegant houses. “Disciples,” said a relieved Sanzang from the back of his horse, “we have gone cold and hungry today, but there are many buildings in that hollow that I an sure must be a farm or a Buddhist or Taoist monastery. Let us go there and beg some food before we continue on our way.”

  Monkey's immediate response was to take a good look. He saw that evil-looking clouds and vapors hung over the place, so he turned back to the Tang Priest and said, “Master, that's a bad place.”

  “How could it possibly be a bad place with all those towers, pavilions and fine buildings?” Sanzang asked.

  “You wouldn't know, Master,” Monkey replied. “There are any number of evil spirits and monsters along this road to the West who are good at making buildings by magic. They can make anything from towers and houses to halls and pavilions, and all just as bait. As you know, one of the nine kinds of dragon is called the clam-dragon. Its breath comes out looking like fine buildings and pools. Clam-dragon buildings appear when there is a heavy mist over a great river. Birds flying by will perch on them for a rest. The clam-dragon eats everyone up, even if there are thousands of them. It's a really lethal trick. The atmosphere over there looks thoroughly vicious: whatever you do don't go there.”

  “Even if I may not I am still very hungry indeed,” said Sanzang.

  “Yes, Master, you really must be,” replied Monkey. “Would you like to dismount and sit on this level ground here while I go somewhere else to beg food for you?” Sanzang followed this suggestion.

  While Pig held the halter Friar Sand put the luggage down, opened up one of the bundles, and took out a begging bowl that he handed to Monkey, who gave him these parting instructions as he took it: “Don't go any further. Guard the master and make sure he stays sitting here until I come back with some food. Then we can carry on West.”

  Friar Sand promised to do so. Monkey then spoke to Sanzang again: “Master, this is a very dangerous place. Whatever you do you mustn't move away from here. I'm off now to beg for food.”

  “No need to say any more,” replied Sanzang. “Be back as soon as you can. I shall wait for you here.”

  Monkey turned and was about to go when he turned back to add, “Master, I know that you haven't the patience to sit still, but I'll make a spell to keep you safe here.” With that he took out his gold-banded cudgel and in a flash he drew a circle on the ground with it. He asked the Tang priest to sit in the circle with Pig and Friar Sand standing on either side and the horse and luggage nearby.

  Then he put his palms together and said to the Tang Priest, “The circle I've drawn is stronger than a wall of bronze or iron. No tiger, leopard, wolf, demon, fiend or monster will dare come anywhere near it. But you must not step outside it. I guarantee that you'll come to no harm as long as you sit inside the circle; but once you leave it very nasty things will happen to you. Please, please, please stay inside it whatever happens.” Sanzang did as he was told and they all sat down. Only then did Monkey set off due South on his cloud to beg for some food. When he saw the ancient trees of another farmhouse reaching up to the sky he brought his cloud down for a closer look. This is what he saw:

  Willows bent down by cruel snow,

  A square pool frozen hard.

  A few sparse bamboos waving green,

  The turquoise of a lofty and elegant pine.

  Thatched cottages that looked covered with silver,

  A slanting bridge that seemed paved with flour.

  Daffodils by the fence were beginning to open,

  While icicles hung low beneath the eaves.

  The icy wind carried many a strange fragrance;

  The plum blossom was lost amid the driving snow.

  As Monkey walked towards the farm to take a look at it he heard the creak of a wicker gate opening as an old man came out. He was leaning on a wooden stick and wearing a sheepskin hat, a tattered tunic, and rush sandals. He looked up to the sky and said. “The Northwest wind in blowing, so the sky will be clear tomorrow.” Before the words were out of his mouth a Pekinese dog came bounding out from behind him and started barking wildly at Monkey. Only then did the man turn to see Monkey carrying his begging bowl.

  “Venerable benefactor,” said Monkey, “I'm with the monk sent to the Western Heaven by the emperor of Great Tang in the East to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. As we were passing this way and my master is very hungry I have come to your honorable residence to beg for a vegetarian meal.”

  The old man nodded, hit the ground with his stick and said, “Reverend sir, don't beg here. You've lost your way.”

  “No, I haven't,” said Monkey.

  “The main trail West is over three hundred miles North of here,” said the old man, “so why aren't you on that?”

  “That's where I've come from,” Monkey replied. “My master is now sitting by the main trail waiting for me to bring him some food.”

  “You're talking nonsense, monk,” the old man replied. “How could your master be waiting by the main trail for you to bring him some food? Even if you could walk this far it would take you six or seven days to cover over three hundred miles and as long again to get back. By then he would have starved to death.”

  “Honestly, benefactor,” replied Brother Monkey with a smile. “I have only just left my master, and it took me less time to get here than it would to drink a cup of tea. When I've been given the food I'll take it back for his lunch.”

  This alarmed the old man, who drew back at once, saying, “That monk's a demon, a demon.”

  He was just about to go back inside when Monkey took hold of him and asked, “Where are you going, benefactor? Give me some food at once.”

  “It's very difficult,” the old man said, “very difficult. Try somewhere else.”

  “You really don't understand, benefactor,” Monkey replied. “Just think, I've had to come over three hundred miles to get here, so it would probably be another three hundred miles to another house. You're trying to make my master starve to death.”

  “I tell you frankly,” the old man said, “that we can only put three pints of rice in the pot for the six or seven members of the family, and it's still cooking. Try somewhere else first.”

  “There is an old saying,” Monkey replied, “that it's better to stay in one house than to call on three. I'm staying put.” The old man lost his temper with Monkey for being so persistent and raised his stick to hit him. This did not worry Monkey at all, who allowed the old man to hit him on his shaven pate seven or eight times: it felt like having the itches on his head scratched.

  “You're a monk who likes being hit on the head,” said the old man.

  “Hit me as much as you like, oldy,” said Monkey. “I'm keeping the score and you'll have to give me a pint of rice for every blow.”

  When the old man heard this he dropped his stick, rushed inside, shut the gate and shouted: “A demon, a demon.” This made the whole household shake with fear as they shut the front and back gates in a great hurry. Watching the gates being shut Monkey thought, “I wonder if the old villain was telling the truth about the amount of rice they cook. As the saying goes, the good are converted by Taoism and the stupid by Buddhism. I'm going in to take a look round.” With that the splendid Great Sage made a spell with his hands to make himself invisible and went straight to the kitchen to look. He saw that the pot was steaming and half filled with grain, so he thrust his begging bowl into it, filled it to the brim, and went back on his cloud.

  The Tang priest meanwhile, who had been sitting in t
he circle for a long time waiting for Monkey to come back, stretched, looked around and said, “Where has that ape gone to beg for food?”

  “Goodness only knows where he is-probably fooling around,” said Pig with a laugh beside him. “Begging for food, indeed! He's left us here in a pen.”

  “What do you mean, in a pen?” Sanzang asked.

  “That's something else you wouldn't know, Master,” Pig replied. “In the old days people used to draw circles on the ground to make pens. He draws a circle with his cudgel and says it's stronger than a wall of bronze or iron. But how could it possibly keep out any tigers, wolves or evil monsters that came here? We'd be a meal served up to them on a plate.”

  “What should we do about it, Wuneng?” Sanzang asked him.

  “We're not sheltered from the wind or the cold here,” Pig said. “If you ask me we should carry on West along the trail. Monkey went off begging on his cloud, so he's bound to be back soon. He'll catch up with us. If he's got any food we can eat it before going on. All we've got from sitting here so long is cold feet.”

  These words were to be Sanzang's undoing: he followed the idiot's advice and they all left the circle. The Tang Priest walked along the trail with Pig leading the horse and Friar Sand carrying the luggage. They soon reached the house with high towers, which was a South-facing compound. Outside the gates was a whitewashed wall, above which rose a multicolored gatetower shaped like lotuses leaning together. The gates stood half open. While Pig tethered the horse to a stone drum by the threshold Friar Sand put the luggage down and Sanzang sat on the doorsill out of the wind.

  “Master,” said pig, “this looks like a nobleman or a minister's house. There's nobody at the gates, so I suppose they're all inside warming themselves up by the fire. Sit down and let me take a look.”

  “Do be careful,” said the Tang Priest. “Don't go charging into their house.”

  “I know,” said the idiot. “I'm a lot better mannered now I'm a Buddhist. I'm not a village yokel any more.”