by Unknown
7. Chapter 20, p. 223: Near the end of the pentasyllabic prefatorial verse, there are the following two lines. “When both Bull and Man disappear [with Bull used here as a metonym of Buddha], / the jade-green sky is bright and clear , .” These directly allude to the following lines by Tan Chuduan that end a lyric to the tune of “Thinking Perpetually of the Immortals, Changsi xian ”: “Sedge slippers go back; / The little calf follows. / The bright moon high up shines on an ancient dike, / When both Bull and Man disappear , , , .” See Shuiyun ji , in DZ 1160, 25: 862.
8. Chapter 29, p. 326: The prefatorial verse is a lyric to the tune of “Moon Over the West River, Xijiang yue ” that is a near-verbatim quotation of another lyric to the same tune by Zhang Boduan. See the Xiuzhen shishu Wuzhen pian in DZ 263, 4: 748.
9. Chapter 36, p. 420: This episode narrates the human pilgrim receiving instructions (both serious and comical) on how to harness somatic ingredients for internal alchemy from his three disciples while enjoying bright moonlight. The poem first uttered by Sun Wukong—“After the moon’s First Quarter and before the Last; / The physic tastes balanced, energy’s form is whole. / Return with the picking and refine it in the stove [i.e., one’s body cavity] , , ”—quotes the first three lines of a quatrain by Zhang Boduan again from the Xiuzhen shishu Wuzhen pian, in DZ 263, 4:730. The poem is further commented line by line by one Wang Qingsheng in Yuanqing zhiming pian , in DZ 1089, 24: 196. The last line of Zhang’s poem reads: “When refined, nurse it warmly like cooking something fresh .” That line is changed in the novel to read: “Determination’s fruit is the Western Heaven .”
10. Chapter 38, p. 439: A long poem describing a plantain tree begins with the line, “A type of spirit root most sightly .” It seems to be a modified version of a line of a lyric to the tune of “Residential Sounds Lamenting Pleasure’s Lateness, Yusheng henhuan chi ” from Changchun Zhenren Xiyouji in which Qiu Chuji wrote about some crysanthemums presented to him by a Daoist congregation on the day of Double Ninth: “A type of spirit root, its frame and nature special ,” in DZ 1429, 34:497. Some of the same diction and syntax appear in another poem by Qiu, this time the first line of a heptasyllabic regulated poem on cranes—“A type of spirit fowl, its frame and nature lofty ”—from his Panxi ji , in DZ 1159, 25: 813.
11. Chapter 50, p. 574: The prefatorial verse, to the tune of “A Southern Branch, Nankezi ,” is a near-verbatim citation of another lyric to the same tune, with minor changes of diction. The source is from Ma Danyang’s lyric titled, “A Gift for Various Daoist Friends,” in Jianwu ji , from DZ 1142, 25: 467–68.
12. Chapter 53, p. 609: The prefatorial verse, a lyric to the tune of “Moon Over the West River” is a near-verbatim citation of another lyric to the same tune, with only minor changes of diction. The source is from Zhang Boduan’s lyric (#11) in Xiuzhen shishu Wuzhen pian, in DZ 263, 4: 743.
13. Chapter 64, p. 734: At the Shrine of Sylvan Immortals, Tripitaka held a discussion of poetry with four tree spirits and also a debate on Buddhism and Daoism. Part of the monk’s exposition of his faith that begins with the observation, “Chan is quiescence, and the Law is salvation , , , ,” cites actually words from another “Shengtang wen” by Feng Zunshi. The XYJ text reads:
The wondrous ways of ultimate virtue, vast and boundless, can neither be seen nor heard. It can, however, extinguish the six organs of sense and the six kinds of perception. Thus perfect wisdom has neither birth nor death, neither want nor excess; it encompasses both form and emptiness, and it reveals the non-reality of both sages and common people.
To seek perfection you must know the mallet and tongs of Primal Origin;
To intuit the Real you must know Śākyamuni’s technique.
Exploit the power of mindlessness;
Tread till you crush Nirvāṇa.
The Daoist text reads:
Now the ultimate Way is vast and boundless, and the wondrous Way can neither be seen nor heard. . . . Action, cessation, and no-action fuse to become unmixed purity. Then you may sweep away all sentient beings and play amidst the Bodhi. Without death or life, there is neither excess nor indebtedness. The holy and the secular are at your bidding, and you encompass both form and emptiness. . . .
Let loose Primal Beginning’s tong and mallet,
And cut short Śākyamuni’s technique.
Exploit the the power of mindlessness;
Tread till you crush Nirvāṇa (DZ 1100, 24: 308).
14. Chapter 64, p. 735: As the conversation went on between Tripitaka and the four tree spirits, the tone of the last four became discernibly more polemical against the monk’s professed faith. Thus Cloud-Brushing Dean remarked:
Instead of consulting the Liezi,
You hold fast to your Sanskrit.
Now the Dao
Was originally established in China.
Instead, you seek in the West illumination.
Your’re wasting your straw sandals!
I wonder what it is that you are after?
A stone lion must have gouged out your heart!
Wild foxes’ saliva has filled your bone marrow!
You forget your origin to practice Chan,
Vainly seeking the Buddha’s fruit.
Yours are like the prickly riddles of our Bramble Ridge,
Like its tangled enigmas.
For such a superior man,
Could there be deliverance?
How could this kind of model
Transmit an authentic imprint?
You must examine your present features,
For quiescence itself has life.
A bottomless bamboo basket will bail water;
A rootless iron tree will bring forth flowers.
Plant your feet firmly on the Linbao summit:
You’ll return to attend Maitreya’s assembly.
From the same Daoist text by Feng Zunshi we read:
Without consulting the Liezi
You cling fast to Sanskrit.
You were established in China,
But you sought from the West illumination.
Wasting in vain your straw sandals,
What are you looking for?
A stone lion has gouged out your heart;
Wild foxes’ saliva filled your bone marrow.
With desire you practice Chan
And hope to bear Buddha’s fruit.
With such bramble riddles
You dare to deceive man?
For such a superior man
Could there be deliverance? . . .
Seek to exalt the life of your lot,
Examine your present features,
For quiescence itself has life.
A bottomless basket bails water;
A rootless iron tree blossoms.
Of this form of a model
How could one transmit an imprint? . . .
Before the Lingbao summit
Who could gain a foothold? (DZ 1100, 24: 308)
15. Chapter 65, p. 744: At the Small Thunderclap Temple where Tripitaka blindly prostrated himself to worship a specious Buddha, with the result that the entire band of pilgrims were captured, the narrative breaks into a commentarial poem. The heptasyllabic regulated verse begins with the line, “The green-eyed monkey knew both false and real ,” which reworks actually another couple of lines from the same “Shengtang wen” by Feng Zunshi. They are: “With words all without flavor [an allusion to Zhuangzi 2] / Hoot back the green-eyed barbarian monk , .” See DZ 1100, 24: 308.
16. Chapter 78, pp. 896–97: At the court of the Bhikṣu Kingdom, Tripitaka was again forced to discuss his faith when he was asked by the ruler whether “a monk is able to transcend death, whether submission to Buddha can bring a person longevity.” Tripitaka thus replied:
For the person who’s a monk,
All causal relations have been abolished;
And to him who understands reality,
All things are but emptiness. . . .
When you, plain and simple, reduce your desir
e,
You will with ease an endless life acquire.
, ; , . . . .
, .
This lengthy disquisition of his understanding of Buddhism is actually composed of selected lines and phrases from a “Rhymeprose on the Ground of the Mind, Xindi fu ,” by one Sanyu Zhenren in Minghe yuyin, DZ 1100, 24: 305. The assembled piece reads:
Earthly affairs without end
In our view are all empty.
If you are taught in the Gate of Mystery,
You must work on the ground of the mind.
“Great wisdom displays no effort” [a citation from Zhuangzi 2]
Within the realm of contentment;
True basis is all silent
And carefree in Nirvāṇa. . . .
With six senses pure a thousand seeds [i.e., the Ālyavijñāna or seed-store of consciousness] die;
With the Three Realms empty a hundred points [i.e., of beginning] are curbed.
Sight, hearing, knowledge, and feeling
Are the causes of barriers for the Way. . . .
If you wish to persevere in learning the Way,
You must understand the mind:
A cleansed mind’s illumined by one single light;
An occupied mind’s attacked by all phenomena. . . .
You already know all phenomena are empty,
And all causes [i.e., the pratyaya or conditional causality] are for naught.
To work merit and labor in sitting
Only fit the Way’s wild ones;
Dispensing alms and spreading kindness
Are only virtue’s duplicity.
Great cunning seems stupid;
Still one knows no action in every affair;
A good scheme is not planned,
For one must on every count let go.
Only let your mind be unmoved
And all your doings will perfect themselves. . . .
Know then all things are empty
And all senses must be banished.
, . , . , ; , . . . . ; . , . . . . , . ; . . . . , . , . , . , . , . . . . , .
17. Chapter 78, p. 897: The ruler in this chapter, however, is under the spell of his father-in-law (guozhang ), who happens to have been a white deer, a pet of the South Pole Star God. Escaping from its celestial realm, the deer went to the court of the Bhikṣu Kingdom, assuming the human form of a Daoist. Hearing Tripitaka’s exposition of his “Buddhist” faith, the deer spirit advanced his scornful rebuttal:
You have no idea that I,
Who seek immortality,
Possess the hardiest of bones;
Who comprehend the Way,
Am most intelligent in spirit.
I carry basket and gourd to visit friends in the mountain;
I gather a hundred herbs to help people in the world.
Divine flowers I pick to make a hat;
Fragrant orchids I pluck to form a mat.
I sing to clapping of hands
And rest on clouds after I dance.
Explaining the principles of Dao,
I exalt the true teachings of Laozi;
Dispensing amulets and water,
I rid the human world of monstrous miasmas.
I rob Heaven and Earth of their energies
And pluck from the sun and moon their essences.
Yin and yang activated, the elixir gels;
Fire and Water harmonized, the embryo’s formed.
When the yin of Two Eights recedes,
It’s both dim and blurry;
When the yang of Three Nines expands,
It’s both dark and obscure.
In accord with the four seasons I gather herbs;
By nine cyclic turns my elixir’s perfected.
Astride the blue phoenix,
I ascend the purple mansion;
Mounting the white crane,
I reach the capital of jade,
Where I join all Heaven’s luminaries
In zealous display of the wondrous Way.
Could this be compared with the quiescence of your Buddhism,
The dark divinity of your tranquillity?
The stinking corpse bequeathed by Nirvāṇa
That can never leave the mortal dust?
Among the Three Religions mine’s the highest mystery.
Dao alone is noble since the dawn of history!
The Daoist’s speech again is a pastiche of sentences from a “Rhymeprose on Honoring the Way, Zundao fu ,” by the Song emperor Renzong (1040–1063). This remarkable tribute begins with the lines—“Among the Three Religions, / Only the Way should be most honored. / Above [its followers] do not pay homage to the Son of Heaven; / Below they do not consult the lords and officials , . ; .” And the long piece ends with the same exalted assessment: “Compared with the Confucian religion’s high ranks and illustrious posts, / Such wealth and nobility are only floating clouds. / Compared with the Buddhist religion’s extinction as ecstasy, / How could they escape the worldly dust? / As we examine the Three Religions, / Only the Way should be most honored , . , ? , ” (Minghe yuyin, in DZ 1100, 24: 305).
18. Chapter 87, p. 988: The prefatorial lyric to the tune of “Su Wu in Slow Pace” [actually only half a poem] is another near-verbatim citation of a lyric to the same tune (#7) by Feng Zunshi, Minghe yuyin, in DZ 1100, 24: 263. The poem begins: “The Great Way’s deep and mysterious— / How it waxes and wanes, / Once told, will astonish both gods and spirits , , .”
19. Chapter 91, p. 1028: With modest alterations of rhetoric, the prefatorial heptasyllabic regulated poem quotes from Ma Danyang’s lyric to the tune of “Auspicious Partridge, Rui zhegu ,” in “Jianwu ji.” See DZ 1100, 25: 475.
20. Chapter 96, p. 1080: Prefatorial lyric to the tune of “Moon Over the West River” is a near-verbatim citation, with only minor changes of diction, of another lyric to the same tune by Zhang Boduan from his “Wuzhen pian.” See Xiuzhen shishu, in DZ 263, 4: 748.
21. Chapter 99, p. 1117: A verse in which the narrator comments when the tutelary deities on order of Guanyin drop the pilgrims on their second homeward journey from the sky, the last of the eighty-one ordeals preordained for the Tang Monk. The heptasyllabic poem ends with the two lines: “In the ancient wondrous mix of Kinship of the Three, / elixir won’t gel if there’s slight errancy .” The last line is a verbatim citation of a quatrain (poem #27) of Zhang’s in the “Wuzhen pian,” DZ 263, 4: 729.
IV THE MONK, THE MONKEY, AND THE FICTION OF ALLEGORY
In an essay on The Journey to the West published in a volume titled Sibu gudian xiaoshuo pinglun (Criticism of Four Classic Novels) during the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, a committee on literature at the Normal University of Shanghai nearlythirty years ago attempted to pinpoint the distinctive feature of this work: “In the first place, what distinguishes the Xiyouji from most other fiction of antiquity is that it is a novel of the supra-mundane.”110 Few readers will dispute that such may be the prima facie character of this epic narrative on Buddhist pilgrimage. It is surprising that, until the last two decades, few critics have made serious investigation into the significance of the supramundane, the mythic, and, indeed, the religious themes and rhetoric that pervade the entire work. This may be a reaction to the emphases of the editors and compilers of previous centuries who, from the moment of the work’s public appearance, regarded it as a work of profound allegory. Chen Yuanzhi’s preface to the 1592 edition of the novel that we have briefly discussed took the lead. Lu Xun’s pioneering and highly influential short history of Chinese novels devotes three chapters to what he labels “Novels of Gods and Demons (shenmo xiaoshuo ),” but he did not press further and use textual analysis to explain why many of the same gods and demons take on different meanings in different works of fiction.111
In what may be the most widely read and most often reprinted abridgment of the work, the Xiyou zhenquan (The True Explanation of the Westward Journey), its early Qing editor Chen Shibin (in his preface to the novel dated 1696) has also d
eveloped the most thoroughgoing allegorical interpretation through the use of alchemical, yinyang, and Yijing (Classic of Change) lore. Likely following the occasional examples provided by the original author himself (cf. the prefatory poem of chapter 26), Chen uses the speculative but popular eccentricities of ideography to interpret the Cave of the Three Stars and Slanting Moon (the abode of the Patriarch Subodhi where Sun Wukong attained his vast magic powers at the first stage of his enlightenment) as meaning the mind or the heart (xin ). The Chinese graph as reproduced here is composed of a crescentlike long stroke surrounded above by three short dot-like strokes.112 This attempt by Chen and others to interpret the narrative as a detailed treatise of internal alchemy might have led another Qing editor, half a century later, to take a different tack. In his unabridged hundred-chapter Xinshuo Xiyouji (The Journey to the West, Newly Interpreted) of 1749, Zhang Shushen declared in the section entitled “Xiyouji zongpi (Overall Comments on The Journey to the West)” that “the book Xiyou has been designated by the ancients as a book meant to illuminate the Dao [a pointed dig at the 1662 edition titled Xiyou zhengdao shu, with the Daoist-leaning preface attributed to Yu Ji discussed in part II of this introduction], by which it originally means the Dao of the sages, the worthies, and the Confucians ( Ru). To consider it an illumination of the Dao of immortals and Buddhism would be a mistake, indeed.”113 From a point of view clearly unsympathetic to the popular movement of Three-Religions-Joining-As-One (sanjiao heyi , a possibly millennium-old notion to be discussed later), Zhang defended the story of the quest for Buddhist scriptures as an allegory of the classic Confucian doctrines on the illustration of virtue (mingde ) and the rectification of the mind (zhengxin ), ignoring the repeated and complex elaborations of zhengxin in Chan Buddhism also for at least a thousand years prior to his time.
To oppose this tendency to treat the narrative as a manual for Buddhist, Daoist, or Confucian self-cultivation, Hu Shi emphatically declared in his essay of 1923 that the author intended neither subtle language nor profound meaning. Wu Cheng’en’s overriding purpose in writing the narrative, according to Hu, was simply to air his satiric view of life and the world.114 For this modern Chinese philosopher and literary historian, The Journey to the West is above all a marvelous comic work, as Hu says in the foreword to Arthur Waley’s abridged translation,“a book of . . . profound nonsense.”115 Hu’s evaluation of the work of Xiyouji’s premodern compilers and commentators was severe: