Journey to the West (vol. 3)

by Wu Cheng-En

  The story tells how the Tang Priest and his three disciples left the city of Yuhua and had a very easy journey in what really was a land of paradise. When they had been travelling for five or six days another city appeared.

  “Where is this?” the Tang Priest asked Brother Monkey.

  “It's a city,” Monkey replied, “but there are no flags on the poles above the city wall and I don't know this area, so I'll ask when we get closer.” When they reached the Eastern suburb they found it noisy with bars and tea-houses and bustling with a rice market and oil shops. Some idlers who were wandering in the streets with nothing better to do crowded round for a better look when they saw Pig's long snout, Friar Sand's black face and Monkey's red eyes, but they dared not come any closer to question the travelers. The Tang Priest was sweating with the worry that they would provoke trouble as they crossed several more streets and had still not yet reached the city wall. Then they saw a monastery gate over which were the words CLOUDS OF COMPASSION MONASTERY.

  “What about going in here to give the horse a rest and take a meal?” the Tang Priest suggested, to which Monkey replied, “Splendid, splendid.” The four of them then went inside, and this is what they saw:

  Splendid, towering buildings,

  Gleaming bases for statues…

  The Buddha hall rise above the clouds;

  The monks' cells lie in the moonlit silence.

  Red mists circle the stupas;

  In the shade of jade-green trees the scripture-wheel is cool.

  This is a true Pure Land,

  Another Naga Palace,

  Where purple mists surround the Mahavira Hall.

  The cloisters are never empty of people enjoying the sights,

  And visitors climb the pagoda that is always open.

  Incense burns in the stand at every moment,

  And lamps shine on the altar through the night.

  A golden bell rings rhythmically in the abbot's lodgings

  As monks worship the Buddha by reciting sutras.

  As the four of them looked around a monk came along the cloister and said to the Tang Priest with polite gestures of greeting, “Where have you come from, Teacher?”

  “From the Tang Court in China,” the Tang Priest replied, at which the monk went down on his knees to kowtow, only to be quickly helped up by the Tang Priest, who asked, “Why do you perform this great courtesy, reverend abbot?”

  “All the lovers of goodness here who read the sutras and recite the name of the Buddha hope to achieve rebirth in your land of China, so that when I saw you coming in your magnificent mitre and robes I was certain that your present splendor must be the result of your successful cultivation in earlier lives. That's why it is right to kowtow to you.”

  “It alarmed me,” said the Tang Priest with a smile, “it alarmed me. I am only an itinerant monk, and know no splendor at all. To be able to live at your leisure and ease as you do, abbot, is real bliss.” The monk then led the Tang Priest to worship the Buddha statues in the main hall. It was only now that Sanzang called for his disciples. After seeing their master start talking to the monk, Monkey and the other two had been standing in a group with their faces averted, holding the horse's bridle and looking after the luggage, so that the monk had not noticed them.

  But when they turned round on hearing the Tang Priest's call the sight of them so frightened the monk that he called out, “My lord, why are your distinguished disciples so hideously ugly?”

  “Ugly they may be,” the Tang Priest replied, “but they do have some magical powers. I have been very grateful for their protection all the way along the journey.”

  As they were speaking more monks came out to greet them. The monk who had been the first to welcome the visitors explained to the others, “This teacher has come from Great Tang in China, and these three gentlemen are his distinguished disciples.”

  “Teacher,” said the others with mixed pleasure and apprehension, “why have you come here from Great China?”

  “I have been commanded by the Tang emperor to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures in the Western Heaven,” Sanzang replied. “As I was passing this way I have come to your monastery to ask where we are and take a vegetarian meal before setting out again.” The monks were all delighted, and they invited the visitors into the abbot's lodgings, where there were some more monks who were performing ceremonies on behalf of benefactors.

  The monk who had met them first went on to explain to the others, “Come and have a look at what people from China are like: some are handsome and some are ugly. The beauty of the handsome ones could never be caught in a painting or drawing, and the ugly ones look really weird.” Both the monks and the benefactors all came to greet them, after which everyone sat down.

  When tea had been drunk the Tang Priest inquired, “What is this fine country called?”

  “This is Jinping, one of the outer prefectures of India,” the monks replied.

  “How far is it from this prefecture to Vulture Peak?” the Tang Priest asked. “It is about seven hundred miles from here to the capital,” the monks replied, “and we have walked that distance. As we haven't gone further West to Vulture Peak we don't know how far that is and would not like to make a wild guess.” The Tang Priest thanked them.

  A little later a vegetarian meal was provided, after which the Tang Priest wanted to be on his way, only to be pressed to stay by the monks and the benefactors who said, “Teacher, you must stay for a couple of days or so. Enjoy the Full Moon Festival before you go on your way.”

  “On my journey I have only been aware of mountains and rivers and the danger of running into ogres or monsters,” the Tang Priest replied, “and I have lost my sense of time. I don't know when Full Moon is.”

  “It's because your heart is so set on worshipping the Buddha and on enlightenment that you have not thought about it, Teacher,” the monks replied. “Today is the thirteenth of the first month and the lanterns will be tried out tonight. The day after tomorrow is the fifteenth, when the festival begins, and it goes on till the lanterns are put away on the eighteenth or nineteenth. We enjoy celebrations here and our prefect, who cares for the people, has lanterns set out everywhere and music played all night. We also have a Bridge of Golden Lamps-it's an ancient tradition that still flourishes. If you will stay for a few days, my lords, our monastery can certainly afford to entertain you.” The Tang Priest had no choice but to stay. As the bell and drum in the Buddha hall resounded to the skies the faithful came in from the streets bringing lanterns to present to the Buddha. The Tang Priest and the rest of them came out of the abbot's lodgings to look at the lanterns, after which everyone turned in.

  The next day, when they had eaten the vegetarian breakfast the monks of the monastery brought them, they strolled in the garden at the back. It really was a lovely place:

  It is the first month of the year,

  The beginning of the spring.

  The wooded garden is quiet and elegant;

  The beauty of the scene subdued.

  Throughout the four seasons flowers and trees contend;

  Turquoise peaks rise behind each other.

  Fragrant flowers are growing before the steps,

  And scent comes from the plum-tree's branches.

  Where there is red it joins the tender peach blossom;

  Where there is green it mingles with the willows' fresh green.

  Forget about the splendor of the Gold Valley Garden;

  Say nothing of the Wang River landscapes painted by Wang Wei.

  In the flowing stream

  The wild ducks bob and rise;

  Among bamboos by the thousand

  Poets ponder their choice of words.

  Tree and herbaceous peonies, myrtle, fleeting-smile flowers,

  That waken when their time is due;

  Camellias, red plum blossom, winter jasmine and daphne,

  All early to open out their beauty.

  The snow piled by the hidden cliff seems fro
zen solid still;

  The clouds that drift by the distant trees already bring early traces of spring.

  The deer sees its reflection beside the pool;

  Cranes come to hear the lute beneath the pines.

  A few halls and pavilions to East and West,

  Where travelers may stay;

  Buildings and pagodas to North and South

  Where monks may meditate in peace.

  Among the flowers

  Are one or two houses to nourish one's nature,

  Where double eaves rise above each other.

  Amid the hills and streams

  Are three or four cells in which to reline magic, Peaceful and light.

  This is indeed a natural spot for a recluse:

  Why look elsewhere for the earthly paradise?

  After a day enjoying the garden they inspected the lanterns in the Buddha hall before going to look at the lantern festival. This is what they saw:

  A splendid city of agate,

  A fairyland of glass;

  Palaces of crystal and mica,

  Like layer upon layer of brocade,

  Openwork carving behind openwork carving.

  The dazzling bridge of stars moved heaven and earth

  While trees of fire made waves of red

  Flutes and drums played in the streets.

  A moon like a ring of jade hung over a thousand gates;

  Fragrant breezes blew through ten thousand homes.

  There were giant turtle peaks soaring on high,

  Fishes and dragons emerging from the sea,

  Phoenixes sporting in the sky.

  As all admired the moon and the lanterns

  The atmosphere was full of harmony.

  Among the crowds dressed in fine silks

  All enjoyed the songs and panpipes.

  Carriages rumbled along.

  There was no end of beautiful faces,

  Dashing gallants, And marvellous sights.

  When Sanzang and the others had looked at the lanterns in the monastery they wandered around the streets of the Eastern suburb, not going back to bed till the second watch in the middle of the night.

  The next day Sanzang said to the monks, “I made a vow to sweep pagodas, and on the occasion of tonight's Moon Festival I would like to ask the reverend abbot to open the doors of the pagoda to allow me to fulfil this vow.” The monks opened the doors, and when Friar Sand fetched his cassock and brought it to him on the ground floor he put it over his shoulders and prayed to the Buddha. Then he swept the ground floor with a broom, took the cassock off and gave it back to Friar Sand. He swept the second story next, and so on story by story till he reached the top. In every story there was a Buddha, and in each one he opened all the windows, swept the floor, and enjoyed the splendid views. By the time he had finished sweeping and come down again it was late and all the lamps had been lit.

  It was now the night of the full moon. “Venerable teacher,” the monks said, “last night you only saw the lamps in our humble monastery and the outskirts of the city. As tonight is the main festival why don't we go into the city to see the golden lamps there?” The Tang Priest was glad to follow this suggestion, and he went with his three disciples and the monks of the monastery into the city to see the lanterns. Indeed:

  On the festive fifteenth night

  The harmony of spring begins with the first full moon.

  Decorated lanterns hang in the busy markets

  As all sing the songs of a world at peace.

  Over the lantern light in streets and markets

  The moon's round mirror rises in the sky

  Like a silver dish, driven by the charioteer Ping Yi.

  The lanterns were like a brocade carpet woven by fairies;

  The lanterns were reflected by the moon,

  Doubling its brilliance;

  The moon shone on the lanterns,

  Making them resplendent.

  There was no end of iron-chain star bridges,

  Lantern flowers and trees of fire.

  Snowflake lanterns,

  Plum-blossom lanterns,

  Like fragments of ice in spring;

  Embroidered screen lanterns,

  Painted screen lanterns,

  Made up from every color.

  Walnut lanterns,

  Lotus lanterns,

  Hung high on lantern towers;

  Blue lion lanterns,

  White elephant lanterns,

  Fixed on lofty frames.

  Shrimp lanterns,

  Terrapin lanterns,

  Placed in front of awnings;

  Goat lanterns,

  Hare lanterns,

  Bringing the eaves to life.

  Eagle lanterns,

  Phoenix lanterns,

  Lined up next to each other;

  Tiger lanterns,

  Horse lanterns,

  Being carried along together.

  Red-crowned crane lanterns,

  White deer lanterns,

  Carrying the Star of Longevity;

  Goldfish lanterns,

  Whale lanterns,

  On which rode the poet Li Bai.

  Giant turtle mountain lanterns,

  Where gods and immortals gathered;

  Revolving horse lanterns

  On which warriors joined combat.

  The towers of lanterns on thousands of houses

  Made a world of clouds and smoke for several miles.

  On one side, shining reins and flying jade saddles;

  On the other, rumbling carriages leave fragrance behind.

  On the red balcony,

  Leaning against the railings,

  Behind the curtains,

  Shoulder to shoulder,

  Hand in hand,

  Pairs of beauties were eager for the fun.

  By the bridge over green waters,

  Noisy,

  Many-coloured,

  Drunken,

  Laughing

  Couples enjoyed the brilliant sights.

  All of the city's flutes and drums were playing;

  Panpipes and songs went on all night.

  There is also this poem as evidence:

  Amid the fine brocades, of lotus were the songs;

  This blessed land at peace was full of many throngs.

  The lanterns and the moon upon this festive night

  Foretold rich harvests after rain and wind just right.

  This was a night when the curfew was relaxed, so that there were huge crowds and a great commotion. People were dancing, walking on stilts, wearing masks and riding elephants, pushing and crowding to East and to West as they looked all around. When they reached the bridge of golden lamps the Tang Priest and the monks pushed forward for a look and saw that it consisted of three golden lamps each the size of a water vat and shaped like a two-storied pavilion with a light shining out through intricate gold and silver filigree openwork. Glazed ceramic tiles inside the lamps reflected their light. They were so bright they outshone the moon, and their oil was very fragrant.

  “What sort of oil do those lamps burn?” the Tang Priest asked the monks, “and why does it smell so remarkably good?”

  “You wouldn't know that, Teacher,” the monks replied. “There is a county near this prefecture called Mintian. In the whole county there are 240 wards, and when we have our annual assignment of jobs to be done for the state, 240 households have to provide oil. All the other jobs assigned by the prefecture or county are reasonable enough, but these oil households have a very hard time. Every household has to take it on for a year, and it costs them over two hundred ounces of silver. The oil isn't ordinary oil but perfumed refined butter oil. One ounce costs two ounces of silver and a pound costs thirty-two ounces. Each of the lamps holds five hundred pounds of oil, making 1,500 pounds for the three of them, costing 48,000 ounces of silver. With other miscellaneous expenses it comes to over 50,000 ounces. And that only lasts three nights.”

  “How can so much oil be used up in only
three nights?” Monkey asked.

  “In each lamp there are forty-nine big wicks about the size of an egg made of rushes wrapped in silk floss,” the monks explained. “When they have burned for one night the Lord Buddhas appear, the oil all vanishes and the lamp goes out.”

  “I suppose the Lord Buddhas take all the oil,” said Pig with a grin as he stood at one side.

  “That's right,” the monks replied, “that's what everyone in the city has always said ever since ancient times. If the oil runs dry they say that the Buddhas have taken the oil and the crops will certainly be bountiful; but if it doesn't dry up on one occasion there will be famine, drought and the wrong weather at the wrong time in that year. That's why everyone makes this offering.”

  As they were talking there was the howling of a wind up in the air, sending everyone who was admiring the lanterns fleeing in terror. The monks could not hold their ground either. “Let's go back, venerable teacher,” they said, “the wind's here. It's the Lord Buddhas bringing blessings. They're here to see the lanterns.”

  “How can you tell that?” the Tang Priest asked.

  “It's the same every year,” the monks replied. “The wind blows up before the third watch. Everybody gets out of the way as they know that it is the Lord Buddhas bringing down blessings.”

  “I am one who thinks of, invokes and worships Buddhas,” the Tang Priest said. “If the Buddhas are honoring us with their presence on this festive occasion it would be wonderful to be able to worship them.” He rejected the monks' repeated urgings to go back, and a little later the forms of three Buddhas appeared in the wind and approached the lamps. The Tang Priest was so excited that he ran to the top of the lamp bridge and threw himself down worship.

  Brother Monkey rushed forward in alarm to drag him to his feet and say, “They're no good, Master. I'm sure they're evil.” Before the words were even out of his mouth the lamps all went out as with a great whoosh the Tang Priest was swept up by the wind. It was terrible! Who knew what evil monsters from what cave in what mountain had been posing as Buddhas to watch the golden lamps?

  Pig and Friar Sand were thrown into such panic that they rushed all about, searching and calling for their master. “Brothers,” called Monkey, “no use shouting here. The master's bliss has turned to disaster. He's been carried off by evil spirits.”