by Wu Cheng-En
“You cretin,” shouted Brother Monkey, “stop talking such rubbish. I've never done any such outrageous thing on all our journey to the West. I reckon it must have been some reckless womanizer like yourself who forgot his principles when he saw a good chance. I expect you tricked some family into taking you as their son-in-law and tied her up here.”
“That's enough of that,” said Sanzang, “that's enough. Now then, Bajie. Your elder brother usually sees things very clearly. Ignore what he is saying. Let us be on our way.”
“Splendid,” said Monkey with great delight, “you have a good destiny, Master. Please mount. Once we're out of the pine forest there will be a house where we can beg for some food for you.” The four of them then pressed on together, leaving the monster behind.
The story tells how the monster gnashed her teeth with fury as she was left tied there to the tree. “I've heard tell of Sun Wukong's tremendous magic powers for years,” she said, “and now that I've seen him today I know that his reputation's well-founded. As that Tang Priest has been cultivating his conduct ever since he was a boy he has never lost a drop of his primal masculinity. I was longing to mate with him so that I could become a golden immortal of the Supreme Ultimate. I never expected that monkey to see through my magic and save him. If I'd been untied and released I could have carried him off whenever I chose and he'd have been mine. Now that Sun Wukong has made those damaging remarks and taken the Tang Priest away my efforts have all been for nothing. Let's see what happens when I give him another couple of shouts.”
Not shifting her ropes, the evil spirit made the most of the wind being in the right direction to carry some high-pitched words of morality into the Tang Priest's ear. Do you know what she was shouting? “Master,” she called, “if you forget your conscience and refuse to save a living being's life what's the use of your fetching the scriptures from the Buddha?”
When the Tang Priest heard this call he reined the horse in and said, “Wukong, go and rescue that girl.”
“You've started on your way, Master,” Monkey replied. “What made you think of her again?”
“She is shouting again there,” the Tang Priest said.
“Did you hear, Pig?” Monkey asked.
“My big lugs cover my ear-holes,” Pig replied, “and I didn't hear anything.”
“Did you hear, Friar Sand?”
“I was walking ahead, carrying the pole with the luggage,” Friar Sand replied. “I wasn't paying attention and I didn't hear anything either.”
“Neither did I,” said Monkey. “What did she say, Master? You were the only one who heard.”
“What she called was quite right,” the Tang Priest called. “She asked what was the use of fetching scriptures when I went to visit the Buddha if I forgot my conscience and refused to save a living being's life. To save a human life is better than building a seven-storied pagoda. Rescuing her straight away would be even better than worshipping the Buddha and fetching the scriptures.”
“If you're wanting to be charitable, Master,” Monkey replied, “you're incurable. Just think of all the demons you've met in all the mountains you've crossed on your journey West since leaving the East. They've often taken you into their caves and I've had to rescue you. I've killed tens of thousands of them with this iron cudgel of mine. So why can't you bring yourself to let a single devil die today? Why do you have to rescue her?”
“Disciple,” the Tang Priest replied, “there's an old saying, 'Do not fail to do a good deed because it is small; do not commit a bad deed because it is small.' You're still to go and save her.”
“If that's the way you're going to be, Master, I can't accept that responsibility,” Monkey replied. “You insist on rescuing her and I dare not try too hard to dissuade you. When I did make a little attempt to do so you lost your temper again. You can go and rescue her if you want to.”
“Watch your tongue, ape,” Sanzang retorted. “Sit here while Bajie and I go to rescue her.”
The Tang Priest went back into the forest and told Pig to undo the ropes around the top half of her body and dig the lower half out with his rake. The demon stamped her feet, fastened her skirt and happily followed the Tang Priest out of the pine forest. When she met Monkey all he did was to wear a mocking smile.
“Impudent ape,” said the Tang Priest abusively, “what are you smiling at?”
“I'm laughing at you,” Monkey replied:
“You meet up with good friends when your luck is going well;
And when it's going badly you find yourself a belle.”
“Impudent macaque!” said Sanzang, being abusive again. “What nonsense! I have been a monk ever since I came out of my mother's womb. I am now making this journey West at His Majesty's command with the devout intention of worshipping the Buddha and fetching the scriptures. I am not the sort of person to care about wealth and office, so what do you mean by my luck going badly?”
“Master,” replied Monkey with a grin, “you may have been a monk since you were a child, and you may be good at reading sutras and invoking the Buddha, but you have never studied the text of royal laws. This girl is young and beautiful. If monks like us travel with her we may well meet with evil people who arrest us and turn us in to the authorities. They won't care about worshipping Buddhas or fetching scriptures. They'll treat it as a case of illicit sex, and even if that isn't proved we'll still be convicted of abduction. You will lose your ordination license, Master, and be beaten half to death. Pig will be sent into exile and Friar Sand sentenced to penal servitude. Even I won't get off scot-free. No matter how I try to talk my way out of it I'll still be found guilty of wrongdoing.”
“Don't talk such rubbish,” Sanzang shouted. “After all, I did save her life. There will be no trouble. We are taking her with us. I will be responsible for whatever happens.”
“You may say you'll be responsible, Master,” Monkey replied, “but what you don't realize is that so far from rescuing her you're destroying her.”
“I saved her life by rescuing her from the forest,” said Sanzang, “so how can I be destroying her?”
“If she had stayed tied up in the forest without any food for three to five days, ten days or even half a month and starved to death,” said Monkey, “she would at least have gone to the Underworld with her body in one piece. But now you've taken her away from there. You're on a fast horse and travelling like the wind. The rest of us have to follow you. How will she be able to keep up on her tiny feet? She can barely walk. If she gets left behind and a wolf, a tiger or a leopard eats her up you'll have killed her.”
“You are right,” Sanzang said. “Thank you for thinking of it. What are we to do about it?”
“Lift her up and let her ride on the horse with you,” replied Monkey with a grin.
“I could not possibly ride on the same horse as her,” moaned Sanzang.
“Then how is she to travel?” Monkey asked. “Bajie can carry her on his back,” Sanzang replied.
“You're in luck, idiot,” said Monkey.
“There's no such thing as a light load on a long journey,” Pig replied. “Having to carry her isn't luck.”
“With your long snout you'll be able to turn it round and chat her up on the quiet while you're carrying her,” Monkey replied, “which will be very convenient for you.”
Pig's reaction to hearing this was to beat his chest and jump about in fury. “That's terrible,” he said, “that's terrible, I'd sooner put up with the pain of a flogging from the master. If I carry her I won't possibly come out of it clean. You've always been a slanderer. I'm not carrying her.”
“Very well then,” Sanzang said, “very well then. I can walk a little further. I shall come down and walk slowly with you. Bajie can lead the horse with nobody riding it.”
“You've got yourself a good bargain there, idiot,” said Monkey, roaring with laughter. “The master's done you a favour by letting you lead the horse.”
“You are talking nonsense again, ape,” said Sa
nzang. “As the ancients said, 'When a horse is to travel three hundred miles it cannot get there by itself.' If I walk slowly are you going to leave me behind? When I go slowly you will have to go slowly too. We shall all take the lady Bodhisattva down the mountain together. We can leave her in some convent, temple, monastery or house that we come to. Then we will still have rescued her.”
“You're right, Master,” Monkey replied. “Let's press on quickly.”
Sanzang took the lead while Friar Sand carried the luggage, Pig led the riderless horse and the girl, and Monkey carried his iron cudgel as they carried on together. Within seven to ten miles the evening was drawing in and a tall building came into sight.
“Disciple,” said Sanzang, “that must be a temple of some sort. We shall ask to spend the night here and be on our way first thing tomorrow.”
“What you say is right, Master,” said Monkey. “Let's all get a move on.”
They were soon at the gates, where Sanzang told them, “Keep well out of the way while I go in first to ask if we can stay for the night. If it looks suitable I shall send someone to call to you.” So they all stood in the shadows of the poplars while Monkey kept an eye on the girl, his iron cudgel in his hand.
The venerable elder walked forward to see that the gates were hanging crooked and falling to pieces. What he saw when he pushed the gates open chilled him to the heart:
The cloisters were deserted,
The ancient shrine left desolate.
The courtyard was overgrown with moss;
Sagebrush and brambles choked the paths.
The only lanterns came from the fireflies
While the croaking of frogs had replaced the water-clock.
The venerable elder started crying. Indeed:
The desolate halls were falling down,
The lonely cloisters collapsing.
Broken bricks and tiles lay in a dozen heaps,
And all the pillars and beams were askew.
Grass was growing all around;
The kitchens were crumbling and buried in dust.
In derelict towers the drums had lost their skins;
Broken was the glass lamp.
The color had gone from the Buddha's golden statue;
The figures of arhats lay strewn upon the floor.
Guanyin had turned to mud in the soaking rain,
Her pure vase with a willow spray fallen to the ground.
No monk was to be seen there by day,
And only foxes slept there at night.
As the wind roared with the sound of thunder
This was a place for tiger and leopard to shelter.
The walls around had collapsed
And no gates could be closed to guard it.
There is a poem about this that goes
For many a year had the temple been unrepaired;
In its derelict state it had gone from bad to worse.
The gales had destroyed the faces of the temple guardians,
And rainstorms had washed the heads off the Buddha statues.
The vajrapani had collapsed and been soaked through.
The local god had lost his shrine and stayed outside at night.
Two other things were even more depressing:
Bell and drums lay on the ground instead of hanging in their towers.
Summoning up his courage, Sanzang went in through the inner gates where he saw that the bell-tower and drum-tower had both collapsed, leaving only a single bronze bell planted in the ground, its bottom half the color of indigo. With the passage of the years the top half of the bell had been bleached in the rain while the earth's vapors had greened the lower part.
“ Bell,” Sanzang called aloud as he touched it,
“Once you roared from high in the tower,
Calling afar from the painted beam where you hung.
At cockcrow you used to ring in the dawn,
And at evening you announced the dusk.
Where now are the lay brothers who begged for the copper,
Or the craftsman who cast it to form you?
Both, I imagine, are now in the Underworld;
They have gone without trace and you are left silent.”
The venerable elder's loud sighs had by now disturbed someone in the monastery. A lay brother who was offering incense heard the voice, climbed to his feet, picked up a broken brick and threw it at the bell. The bell's clang gave the venerable elder such a fright that he fell over then scrambled up again to flee, only to trip over the root of a tree and go flying again.
As he lay on the ground Sanzang raised his head and said, “Bell,
I was just lamenting your fate
When suddenly you clanged.
On this deserted route to the West
Over the years you have turned into a spirit.”
The lay brother came over to Sanzang and steadied him as he said, “Please get up, reverend sir. The bell hasn't become a spirit. It was I who struck it just now.” Looking up and seeing how dark and ugly the other was Sanzang said, “I suppose you are a goblin or some other evil creature. I am no ordinary man. I come from Great Tang and I have disciples who can subdue dragons and tigers. If you run into them your life will be lost.”
“Don't be afraid, my lord,” replied the lay brother, falling to his knees. I'm no evil being. I'm a lay brother who looks after the incense here. When I heard those fine things you were saying just now I wanted to come out and welcome you but I was afraid that it might be some demon knocking at the gates. That was why I didn't dare come out until I'd thrown a piece of brick at the bell to calm my fears. Please rise, my lord.”
Only then did Sanzang calm himself sufficiently to reply, “Lay brother, that fright was almost the death of me. Take me inside.” The lay brother led Sanzang straight in through the third pair of gates. What the Tang Priest saw here was quite different from outside:
A cloud-patterned wall built of blue bricks,
Halls roofed with green glazed tiles.
The holy statues were sheathed in gold,
The steps made of pure white jade.
Blue light danced in the Buddha hall;
Fine vapors rose from the Vairocana chapel.
Above the Manjusri hall
Were decorations of flying clouds;
In the Library of Scriptures
Were patterns of flowers and green leaves.
On the roof above the triple eaves stood a precious jar;
In the Tower of Five Blessings embroidered covers were spread.
A thousand bright bamboos waved over the dhyana seat;
Ten thousand bluish pines threw their light on the gates.
Jade-coloured clouds reflected gold on this palace;
Auspicious clouds drifted round the woods full of purple mist.
Each morning the fragrant breezes could be smelled all around;
In the evening painted drums were heard on the high hills.
There should be morning sunshine to patch torn robes;
How can the sutra be finished by the light of the moon?
The courtyard at the back is lit by half a wall of lamps;
A column of fragrant smoke shines in the hall.
Sanzang saw this but did not dare go inside. “Lay brother,” he called, “why is the front of the monastery so dilapidated but the back so neat and tidy?”
“My lord,” said the lay brother with a smile, “these mountains are full of evil creatures and brigands. On clear days they roam the mountains to rob and on dull ones they shelter in the monastery. They knock the Buddha statues down to use as seats and burn the wooden pillars for firewood. The monks here are too feeble to argue with them, which is why they have abandoned the wrecked buildings at the front for the brigands to stay in. They have found some new benefactors to build the new monastery for them. Now there is one for the pure and one for the impure. This is how we do things in the West.”
“So that is the way things are,” said Sanzang.
As he
walked further Sanzang saw written over the gate in large letters SEA-GUARDING MONASTERY OF MEDITATION. Only then did he stride in through the gates, where a monk appeared coming towards him. Just see what the monk looked like:
His hat of velvet and brocade was held with a pin,
And a pair of bronze rings hung from his ears.
His tunic was made of woolen stuff,
And his eyes were white and bright as silver.
He held in his hand a self-beating drum
As he recited scriptures in an unknown tongue.
Sanzang did not know before
That he was a lama on the road to the West.
As the lama came out he saw how very handsome and elegant Sanzang was: clear-browed and fine-eyed with a broad forehead and level top to his skull, ears hanging to his shoulders and arms so long they came below his knees. He looked like an arhat come down to earth. The lama, his face wreathed in smiles, went up to Sanzang chuckling with delight to grab hold of him, feel his hands and feet, rub his nose and tug at his ears as ways of showing his friendliness.
After leading Sanzang into the abbot's lodgings and going through the rituals of greeting the lama asked him, “Where have you come from, venerable Father?”
“I have been sent by His Majesty the Emperor of Great Tang in the East to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures from Thunder Monastery in India in the West,” Sanzang replied. “As we were passing this way when it was becoming dark I have come to your distinguished monastery to put up here for the night before leaving early tomorrow morning. I beg you to grant me this expeditious help.”
“You shouldn't say that,” replied the lama with a smile, “you shouldn't say that. We didn't really want to become monks. We were all given life by our mothers and fathers and only cut our ties with them because we had unlucky destinies and our families could not afford to keep us. Even though we are now disciples of the Buddhist faith you must not talk empty words.”
“I spoke in all sincerity,” Sanzang replied.
“However far is the journey from the East to the Western Heaven?” the monk said. “Along the way there are mountains, there are caves in the mountains and there are spirits in the caves. I don't think that a lone traveler looking as delicate as you could possibly be a pilgrim going to fetch the scriptures.”
