The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 4

by Unknown

Tripitaka saluted the moment he caught sight of him, and the priest hurriedly returned his greeting, saying, “Master, where do you come from?”

  “This disciple is Chen Xuanzang,” replied Tripitaka, “who has been sent by the decree of the Great Tang emperor to go worship Buddha in the Western Heaven and seek scriptures. Our journey takes us past your treasure monastery, and I have taken the liberty of visiting you to ask for one night’s lodging. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “Our humble monastery,” said the priest, “is inhabited frequently by visitors from all over the world for as long as they please. The elder, moreover, is a divine monk from the Land of the East, and it will be our very good fortune to serve you.” Tripitaka thanked him, and then asked his three companions to follow him. They went past the winding corridor and the donation boxes to reach the abbot’s quarters. After exchanging greetings with the abbot, they took their seats proper to hosts and guests. Pilgrim and his two brothers, too, sat down with hands lowered at their sides.

  We tell you that when the monastery had heard the news of scripture priests sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East, all the monks—whether they were old or young, long-term residents or temporary guests, elders or altar boys—came to present themselves. After tea had been offered, a vegetarian meal was served.

  Our elder presently was still reciting his grace, but Eight Rules was impatient enough to send the buns, vegetarian foods, and vermicelli soups tumbling down his throat. The abbot’s quarters by now were filled with people; the more intelligent ones were admiring the features of Tripitaka, but the sportier persons were all staring at the way Eight Rules ate. As Sha Monk was rather observant, he saw immediately what was happening and furtively gave Eight Rules a pinch, saying, “Gently!”

  Eight Rules became so exasperated that he yelled, “Gently! Gently! But my stomach’s empty!”

  Chuckling, Sha Monk said, “Second Elder Brother, you may not realize this. There are many so-called gentlemen in the world, but when it concerns the stomach, they are no different from you and me.” These words quieted Eight Rules, while Tripitaka said a short grace to end the meal. After the eating utensils had been removed, Tripitaka thanked his hosts.

  One of the priests of the monastery inquired about the history of the Land of the East. When Tripitaka spoke of certain historical ruins, he in turn asked for the reason for the name of the Gold-Spreading Monastery. That priest replied, “This originally was the Monastery of the Anāthapiṇḍika Garden in the Kingdom of Śrāvastī. It also goes by the name of the Jetavana Park. Because the Elder Anāthapiṇḍika spread gold bricks on the ground to enable the Buddha to expound the sūtras, the name was changed again to the present one. About a generation ago, this whole region was the Kingdom of Śrāvastī, and Elder Anāthapiṇḍika was living here at the time. Our monastery originally was the elder’s Jetavana Park, and that is why the full name should be Benefactor-of-Orphans Gold-Spreading Monastery. Behind our monastery we still have the foundation of the Jetavana Park. In recent years, a great rainstorm would on occasion wash out some gold or silver or pearls. Those lucky enough would be able to pick them up.”

  “So it’s not a false rumor but the truth!” said Tripitaka. Then he asked again, “When I entered your treasured monastery just now, I saw inside the twin corridors by the gate many merchants with their mules and horses, their luggage and carts. Why are they staying here?”

  “Our mountain here is named the Hundred-Legs Mountain,” replied the priest. “In previous years it had been quite safe. Recently, however, we don’t quite know what has taken place, but it may be that the seasonal cycles have produced a few centipede spirits, which have frequently injured people on the road. Though the wounds they inflict may not be lethal, they have certainly inhibited the travelers’ movement. Beneath our mountain is a pass by the name of Cock-Crow. People dare not walk through it until the cock has crowed. Because it’s getting late now, those merchants you saw don’t want to take an unnecessary risk. So they use our humble monastery for lodging, and they’ll leave after the cock has crowed.”

  “We, too, will wait till the cock crows before we leave,” said Tripitaka. As they chatted, more vegetarian food was brought in, so that the Tang Monk and his disciples dined again. Afterwards, Tripitaka and Pilgrim went out for a leisurely stroll to enjoy a bright moon in her first quarter. A workman approached them and said, “Our venerable father teacher would like to meet the visitors from China.”

  Turning quickly, Tripitaka saw an old monk, a bamboo staff in his hand, who saluted him, saying, “Is this the master who has come from China?”

  “I dare not accept such honor,” replied Tripitaka, returning his salutation, as the old monk began to compliment him effusively.

  “What is the old master’s lofty age?” he asked.

  “I have passed my forty-fifth year in vain,” said Tripitaka, “and may I ask what is the honorable age of the old abbot?”

  With a chuckle, the old monk said, “Rather fruitlessly I have exceeded the venerable master’s age by a sexagenary cycle.”

  “You’re a hundred and five years old now,” said Pilgrim. “Can you tell how old I am?”

  “Though the countenance of this master is aged,” said the old priest, “your spirit is most clear. My eyes are quite dim in the moonlight, and it’s hard for me to tell your age right away.” After talking for a while, they went to look at the rear corridor. “Just now the old foundation of the Jetavana Park was mentioned,” said Tripitaka. “Where exactly is it?”

  “Just beyond our rear gate,” replied the old monk, and asked that it be opened immediately. All they saw was a vacant lot with a few piles of rubble remaining as the foundation of the walls. Pressing his palms together, Tripitaka sighed and said,

  The good giver, Sudatta, I call to mind;

  With jewels and gold he relieved poor mankind.

  For all times Jetavana has its fame.

  With which arhat can we the elder find?

  They all walked slowly, enjoying the sight of the moon. Having gone out of the rear gate, they reached a terrace where they sat for a while. Suddenly they heard the sound of weeping. Tripitaka listened attentively, and found that the person weeping was also making protest, something about her parents not comprehending her pain. So moved was he by the words that he himself began to shed tears also.

  “Who is this person grieving here?” he turned to ask the other monks. On hearing this question, the old monk ordered the other priests to go back first to make tea. After everyone had left, he at once bowed low to Tripitaka and Pilgrim. Raising him, Tripitaka said, “Old abbot, why are you doing this?”

  “Since this disciple has now exceeded one hundred years of age,” replied the old monk, “he is somewhat knowledgeable in human affairs. In the quiet hours of meditation, moreover, he has seen a few visions. And that is why this disciple can perceive that the venerable master and his disciple are quite different from other people. For only this young master here can bring to light this grievous matter.”

  “Let’s hear you tell us what the problem is,” said Pilgrim.

  The old monk said, “Exactly on this day a year ago, your disciple was just in the midst of meditation on the dialectical relation between our nature and the moon5 when a soft breeze brought to me the sounds of grief and protest. I descended from my couch to go to the foundation of the Jetavana Park to look around. There I found a pretty, comely girl. I asked her, ‘What family do you belong to? Why are you here?’ The girl replied, ‘I’m the princess of the King of India. I was enjoying the sight of flowers beneath the moon when I was blown here by a strong gust.’ Immediately I had her locked up in an empty room, which I sealed with bricks until it looked like a prison. There was only a small hole left in the door, through which one could pass a rice bowl. The next day I told this story to the other priests—that I had imprisoned a monstrous deviate. Since we priests were men of mercy, I said, I would not take its life, and I would give the prisoner two meals of co
arse rice and tea daily for sustenance. The girl was clever enough to understand my intentions. Fearing that she might be violated by the priests, she pretends to be mad, sleeping in her own piss and lying in her own shit. During the day she babbles all the time and puts on a dumb, stupid look. In the quiet of the night, however, she weeps and yearns for her parents. Several times I myself have tried to enter the city to make inquiry about the princess, but I have had no success whatever. For this reason I have kept her tightly locked up and dare not release her. Now that we have the good fortune of seeing the venerable master’s arrival at our kingdom, I beg you enter the capital and exercise your vast dharma power to shed light on this matter. Not only will you thus be able to rescue the virtuous, but you will also make manifest your divine potency.”

  Pilgrim and Tripitaka firmly committed to their memory what they had heard. As they spoke, however, two young priests came to invite them to tea before retiring, and so they all returned to the monastery.

  In the abbot’s quarters Eight Rules was grumbling to Sha Monk, saying, “We have to be on our way by dawn when the cock crows. And they still won’t come to bed!”

  “Idiot,” said Pilgrim, “what are you mumbling?”

  “Go to sleep!” said Eight Rules. “It’s so late already. What’s there to look at?” Thereupon the old monk walked away, and the Tang Monk retired. This is precisely the time when

  The moon fades, the flowers dream, and all sounds cease.

  The window screens let in a soft, warm breeze.

  Thrice has the clepsydra dropped low in sight;6

  The Milky Way glows like the brightest light.7

  They had not slept for very long that night when they heard the cock crow. In the front the traveling merchants all rose in a clamor as they lit their lamps and began to cook their rice. Our elder, too, woke up Eight Rules and Sha Monk so that they could saddle the horse and pack. When Pilgrim asked for lights, the priests of the monastery had already risen earlier to prepare tea and breakfast, which they waited to serve in the rear. Delighted, Eight Rules ate an entire platter of buns. Thereafter he and Sha Monk brought out the horse and the luggage, while Pilgrim and Tripitaka thanked their hosts.

  Again the old monk said to Pilgrim, “Don’t forget that matter of the weeping girl!”

  “Indeed, I shall not!” laughed Pilgrim. “When I get to the city, I’ll be able to establish the fundamental principles by listening to sounds and determine the emotions by scrutinizing countenances.”

  Those traveling merchants, noisy and boisterous, also followed them to the main road. By about the hour of the Tiger they passed the Cock-Crow Pass, but not until the hour of the Serpent8 did they catch sight of the city rampart. The city itself was truly like an iron cistern or a citadel of metal, a divine islet and a Heavenly prefecture. It has the noble form of

  A dragon coiled or a tiger sitting,

  With colors from phoenix towers emitting.

  The royal moat flows like a circling band;

  Mountains, flaglike, surround this blessed land.

  Banners at dawn light up the imperial way;

  Pipes and drums of springtime by bridges play.

  The people prosper for the king is good:

  Five grains in abundance they have for food.

  As they moved along the street of the eastern suburb, the various merchants went off one by one to their hotels and inns. Master and disciples walked inside the city, where they came upon a College of Interpreters and its posthouse. When Tripitaka and his companions walked in, the steward at once made this report to the clerk of the posthouse: “There are four strange-looking priests leading a white horse in here.”

  When the posthouse clerk heard that there was a horse, he knew that these visitors had to be on some sort of official business. He therefore went out to the main hall to greet them. Saluting him, Tripitaka said, “This humble cleric has been sent by imperial decree of the Great Tang to go see Buddha at the Great Thunderclap of the Spirit Mountain and seek scriptures. I carry with me a travel rescript that I would like to have certified at your court. I would like also to borrow your noble residence for a short rest. We shall leave the moment our affair’s concluded.” Returning his bow, the clerk of the posthouse said, “This official residence was established precisely for the entertainment of honored guests and messengers. It is my responsibility to extend our hospitality to you. Please come in. Please come in.”

  A highly pleased Tripitaka at once asked his disciples to come and present their greetings. When the posthouse clerk encountered their hideous visages, he was secretly horrified, not knowing whether these beings were human or demonic. Trembling all over, he forced himself to oversee the service of tea and maigre. Tripitaka, seeing how frightened he was, said to him, “Sir, please don’t be afraid! Though my three disciples look ugly, they all have good hearts. As the saying goes, ‘A savage face but a kindly person.’ Nothing to be afraid of!”

  Calmed by these words, the posthouse clerk asked, “National Master, where is the Tang court?”

  “In the land of China,” replied Tripitaka, “at the South Jambūdvīpa Continent.”

  “When did you leave?” the clerk asked again.

  “In the thirteenth year of the reign period, Zhenguan,” said Tripitaka. “I’ve gone through fourteen years and the bitter experience of ten thousand waters and a thousand mountains before arriving at this region.”

  “Truly a divine monk, a divine monk!” exclaimed the posthouse clerk.

  Then Tripitaka asked, “And what is the Heaven-allotted age of your noble state?”

  “Ours is the Great Kingdom of India,” replied the posthouse clerk. “Since the time of the founder of our kingdom, Taizong,9 it has been some five hundred years already. The father who occupies the throne at present is a person who has peculiar fondness for mountains and streams, flowers and plants. His dynastic name is Emperor Yizong, and the title of his reign period is Jingyan.10 He has been ruling for twenty-eight years.”

  “This humble cleric,” said Tripitaka, “would like to have an audience with him today to have our travel rescript certified. Do you know whether court is still being held?”

  “Good! Good! This is precisely a good time!” said the posthouse clerk. “Our princess, the daughter of the king, has recently celebrated her twentieth birthday. At the intersection of the major thoroughfares, a festooned tower has been erected from which she will throw down an embroidered ball in order to determine which person she will take for her husband, the man ordained of Heaven. Today happens to be the very day of that exciting event, and I believe our father the king has yet to retire from court. If you wish to have your rescript certified, this would be a good time to go do so.”

  Tripitaka was pleased, and he would have left at once had not he seen that a vegetarian meal was being served. He stayed, therefore, and ate it with the posthouse clerk and his three disciples.

  It was past noon, and Tripitaka said, “I should go now.”

  “I’ll escort you, Master,” said Pilgrim.

  “I’ll go too,” said Eight Rules. Sha Monk said, “Second Elder Brother, you shouldn’t. Your features aren’t the most attractive. What will you do when you arrive at the court gate? Pretend that you are fat? Let Big Brother go.”

  “Wujing is quite right,” said Tripitaka. “Our Idiot is rough and coarse, but Wukong still has a little refinement.” Pouting his snout, that Idiot said, “With the exception of Master, there’s not that much difference in the way the three of us look!” Tripitaka put on his cassock, and Pilgrim picked up the document satchel to go with him. On the street they saw all the people—scholars, farmers, laborers, merchants, writers, the learned and the ignorant—saying to one another, “Let’s go see the tossing of the embroidered ball!”

  Standing by the side of the road, Tripitaka said to Pilgrim, “The people in this place—their clothing, their buildings, their utensils, their manner of speech and behavior—are all the same as those of our Great Tang. I’m
thinking now about the deceased mother of my secular home who met the man s he was destined to marry by throwing an embroidered ball, and they became man and wife. To think that they should have this custom here also!”

  “Let us go, too, to have a look! How about it?” said Pilgrim.

  “No! No!” said Tripitaka. “You and I are dressed improperly, as priests. People may get suspicious.”

  “Master,” said Pilgrim, “have you quite forgotten the words of that old monk at the Benefactor-of-Orphans Gold-Spreading Monastery? We should go see the festooned tower because at the same time we can distinguish truth from falsehood. In the midst of all this hurly-burly, that king must be concerned with the happy doings of his daughter. How could he be bothered with the affairs of the court at this time? There’s no harm in you and me going to the crossroads.” On hearing this, Tripitaka did indeed follow Pilgrim to go watch the various people waiting for the embroidered ball to be tossed. Ah! Little did they realize that their going there was like

  The fisher, casting down both hook and thread,

  Would henceforth haul up some intrigues instead!

  We tell you now about that King of India, who, because of his love for mountains and streams, flowers and plants, led his queen and princess into the imperial garden last year one night to enjoy the moonlight. Their outing aroused a monstrous deviate, who abducted the true princess while she herself falsely assumed the princess’s form. Knowing that the Tang Monk would reach this region at that particular hour, day, month, and year, she wangled the wealth of the state to erect a festooned tower in order to take him as her mate. She was, you see, desirous of picking the vital energy of his true yang so that she would become a superior immortal of the Great Monad.

  It was now the third quarter past the hour of noon. Pilgrim and Tripitaka pushed through the crowd and approached the tower. Just then the princess, flanked by some seventy maidens all colorfully attired, held up high the lighted stalks of incense to pray to Heaven and Earth, while an attendant stood by her holding the embroidered ball. That tower had eight exquisite windows; through one of them, the princess gazed at the crowd. When she saw the Tang Monk draw near, she picked up the ball with her own hands and tossed it at him. The ball landed on his head, knocking his Vairocana hat to one side. The Tang Monk was so startled that he tried to hold on to the ball with his hands. All at once the ball rolled into one of his sleeves.