by Unknown
Tripitaka said, “Your humble cleric has been sent by royal decree of the Great Tang in the Land of the East to visit the Spirit Mountain of your treasure region in order to seek true scriptures from the Buddhist Patriarch. I heard that your honored household reveres the monks, and that’s why I came bowing. I would like to beg for a meal, and then we shall leave.” His face beaming with pleasure, the squire smiled broadly and said, “Your disciple’s surname is Kou. My given name is Hong (Great), and my style is Dakuan (Liberality). I’m sixty-four years old. At the age of forty, I made a vow which would not be fulfilled until I had fed ten thousand monks. This has been going on for twenty-four years. I have kept a record of all those I have fed. Recently in my leisure hours, I went through the names of the monks and discovered that I have fed nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-six persons. Only four more remain before I reach the number of perfection. It is indeed my good fortune that Heaven has sent me today you four old masters to complete this number. Please leave me your honored titles, and you must stay here for a month also. Please wait until we have performed the ceremony of the completion of a vow. Your disciple will then escort you all to the mountain with horses and carriages. Our region is only some eight hundred miles from the Spirit Mountain. It’s not very far.” Exceedingly pleased by what he heard, Tripitaka agreed to what he proposed, and we shall leave them for the moment.
Several houseboys, old and young, went into the squire’s residence to haul firewood and bail water. They also took out rice, noodles, and vegetables in order to prepare the dietary meal. All these activities led the aged wife of the squire to ask, “Where do these monks come from, that they have to receive such special treatment?”
“When our master asked these four noble priests about their origin,” replied the houseboys, “one of them said that they were sent by the Great Tang emperor to worship our Holy Father Buddha in the Spirit Mountain. Who knows how great a distance they have covered to reach our place, but our master said that they came from Heaven. He told us to prepare a vegetarian meal quickly to entertain them.”
Delighted also by what she heard, the old woman said to her maid, “Get me some clothes. I want to go meet them also.”
“Madam,” said one of the houseboys, “you want to meet only one of them, not the other three. Their features are extremely ugly!”
“You people are just ignorant,” said the old woman. “When the features are ugly, strange, or extraordinary, they must belong to celestial beings descending to the Region Below. Run along now and announce my presence to your master.”
The houseboys dashed out to the sūtra hall to say to the squire, “Madam is here. She wishes to meet the venerable fathers of the Land of the East.” On hearing this, Tripitaka rose from his seat as the old woman arrived at the hall. She raised her eyes and scrutinized the dignified and handsome features of the Tang Monk. Then she turned to look at Pilgrim and his two companions, whose appearances were extraordinary indeed! Though she thought that they were celestial beings descended to Earth, she did feel a little nervous as she went to her knees to bow to them.
Hurriedly returning her salutation, Tripitaka said, “The Lady Bodhisattva has erroneously paid us great homage.”
The old woman asked the squire, “Why aren’t these four masters sitting together?” Sticking out his snout, Eight Rules said, “We three are only disciples!” Eeeee! That one declaration of his seemed like a tiger’s roar deep in the mountain! The old woman became more frightened than ever.
As they spoke, another houseboy came to say, “The two uncles have arrived.” Turning quickly to look, Tripitaka found two young scholars3 who walked up the sūtra hall and bent low toward the elder. Tripitaka hastily returned their greetings, while the squire tugged at him and said, “These are my two sons, named Kou Liang (Beam) and Kou Dong (Pillar). They have just returned from school and haven’t had their lunch yet. Learning of the master’s arrival, they have come to bow to you.” Delighted, Tripitaka said, “Excellent! Excellent! Truly
To exalt your house doing good’s the rule.
To have good sons you must send them to school.”
“Where did this Venerable Father come from?” the two young men asked their father.
“From a great distance,” replied the squire, laughing. “He is someone sent by the Great Tang emperor in the Land of the East, at the South Jambūdvīpa Continent, to go see the Holy Father Buddha at Spirit Mountain and acquire scriptures.”
One scholar said, “I read in A Guide through the Forest of Affairs4 that the world is divided into four continents. Our region here belongs to the West Aparagodāniya Continent, and there is also an East Pūrvavideha Continent. I wonder how many years it took him to travel from South Jambūdvīpa to this place?”
With a smile, Tripitaka said, “This humble cleric on his journey has spent more days in being delayed than in traveling. Frequently I fell to poisonous demons and savage fiends, to thousands of bitter ordeals. I am fortunate to have the protection of my three disciples. Altogether I have experienced fourteen summers and winters before arriving at your treasure region.”
When they heard this, the two scholars paid him effusive compliments, saying, “Truly a divine monk! Truly a divine monk!” Hardly had they finished speaking when a young boy came to say, “The maigre has been spread out. We invite the Venerable Fathers to partake.” The squire asked his wife to return to their residence with his sons. He himself accompanied the four pilgrims to the dining hall for the meal.
The appointments in the hall were arranged in a most orderly manner, with gilded lacquered tabletops and black-lacquered armchairs. The front row of food consisted of a crouque-en-bouche of five colors, created in the latest fashion by the most skillful and artistic hands. In the second row there were five platters of little dishes, while the third row had five plates of fruits. The fourth row had five big platters of snacks, every item delicious and fragrant. The vegetarian soups, the rice, the steamed dumplings and buns were all steaming hot and most appetizing. Seven or eight houseboys dashed back and forth to serve them, and four or five chefs never stopped working. Look at them! Some brought in soup while others added rice; coming and going, they were like meteors chasing the moon. Our Zhu Eight Rules swallowed a bowlful with one gulp, and he went after the food like wind sweeping away the clouds. Master and disciples thus enjoyed a full meal.
The elder rose and, having thanked the squire for the maigre, was about to leave immediately. Stopping him, the squire said, “Old teacher, please relax and stay for a few days. As the proverb says, ‘Beginning is easy but the end is hard.’ Please wait till I have performed the rite of completion. Only then would I dare escort you on your way.” When Tripitaka saw how sincere and earnest he was, he had no choice but to remain.
Not until six or seven days had gone by did the squire invite some twenty-four local Buddhist priests to conduct a service of the completion of a vow. The priests spent three or four days to compose the service, and, having selected an auspicious date, they began the sacrifice. Their manner, of course, was no different from that of the Great Tang. They, too,
Unfurled the huge banners
And set up the gilded images;
Lifted high the tall candles
And burned incense to worship.
They rolled drums and tapped cymbals;
They blew on reeds and kneaded pipes.
The little gongs
And the flute’s pure tones
All followed the gongche notations.5
They struck up the music
And played for a while
Before beginning to chant the sūtras aloud.
First they pacified the local spirits;
Next they called on divine warriors.
They burned and sent off the documents,
And they bowed to Buddha’s images.
They recited the Peacock Sūtra,
Each sentence woe-dispelling;
They lighted the Bhaiṣajya Lamp,
&nbs
p; Its flame both bright and blazing.
They did the Water Penitential
To dissolve guilt and enmity;
They proclaimed the Garland Sūtra
To remove slander and strife.
Triyāna’s wondrous law had the finest aim;
One or two Śramaṇa were all the same.
For three days and nights it went on like that, and at last the service was over. Thinking of Thunderclap, the Tang Monk wanted to leave. As he tried to thank his host, the squire said, “The old teacher is so eager to leave! It must be that my preoccupation with the service these last few days has caused me to slight you in some manner, and you are offended.”
“I have greatly disturbed your noble residence,” replied Tripitaka, “and I do not know how I can repay you. Dare I even speak of offense? It’s just that when my sage ruler escorted me out of the imperial pass, he asked me when I would return. By mistake I replied that I should be back in three years. Little did I expect that I would be on the road for fourteen years! And I still don’t know whether I’d be able to acquire the scriptures! By the time I have taken them back, it will probably be another twelve or thirteen years. Would I not have violated the sage decree? What unbearable crime would that be? I beg the old squire to let this humble cleric proceed. Wait till I have acquired the scriptures; then I’ll come back to stay a little longer at your mansion. That should be permissible.”
Unable to contain himself, Eight Rules shouted, “Master, you’re too insensitive to human wishes! You’ve no regard for human sentiments! The old squire must be a very rich man if he has been able to make such a vow to feed priests. Now that it is completed, and now that he is urging us so earnestly to stay, there’s no harm in our remaining a year or so. Why must you insist on leaving? Why should we abandon such ready-made provisions and resume begging from someone else? What old father or mother’s family do you have ahead of you?”
“You coolie!” snapped the elder. “All you know is eating! You never have a thought for returning to your origin. Truly you’re a beast who cares only for
Eating in the trough
To ease your belly’s itch!
Since you crave so much to indulge in this deluded passion, I’ll leave tomorrow by myself.”
When Pilgrim saw that even the color of his master’s face had changed, he grabbed Eight Rules and pounded him with his fists. “This Idiot,” he cried, “without knowing any better, has caused Master to blame even us!”
“That’s a good beating! That’s a good beating!” said Sha Monk, chuckling. “Even when he’s silent, as he is now, he annoys people! Wait till he butts in again with his mouth!” In a huff, our Idiot stood to one side and dared not utter another word. When the squire saw that master and disciples had become agitated, he tried to placate them with a broad smile, saying, “Please calm yourself, old teacher, and bear with us for one more day. Tomorrow I shall prepare some banners and drums and invite a few relatives and neighbors to see you off.”
As they conversed, the old woman appeared and said, “Old Master, if you have come to our house, there is no need for you to rush off so eagerly. How many days have you been staying, anyway?”
“Already half a month,” replied Tripitaka.
“Let that half-month be counted as the meritorious service of the squire,” said the old woman. “I too have accumulated a little cash from sewing, and I have hopes also of feeding the old master for half a month.”
She had barely finished speaking when Kou Dong and his brother also came out and said, “Please hear us, you four Venerable Masters. Our father fed the monks for over twenty years, but he had never come upon a good person. Now he is lucky enough to reach the number of perfection only because of your arrival, which has, as it were, brought radiance to a thatched hut. Your students are too young to know much about karma, but we do know the proverb:
What pa sows pa reaps;
What ma sows ma reaps;
One who sows not, reaps not.
The reason our father and mother wish to extend their hospitality is just so that they may each attain certain karmic reward. Why must you refuse them so bitterly? Even we foolish brothers have saved up a small sum from our school allowances, with which we, too, would like to entertain the Venerable Masters for half a month before we see you off.”
“Already I dare not accept the great kindness of your mother, the old Bodhisattva,” said Tripitaka. “How could I presume upon the affection of you worthy brothers? I truly dare not. I must leave this day, and I implore all of you to pardon me. If I remained, I would have exceeded the imperial limit, and my crime would be even greater than one punishable by execution.”
When the old woman and her two sons saw that he was adamant, they grew angry and said, “Out of good intentions we wanted him to stay, but he’s bent on leaving. All right! He wants to go, let him go! No need to chatter any more!” Mother and sons thereupon got up and went inside.
Unable to restrain himself, Eight Rules spoke again to the Tang Monk, “Master, don’t overdo your playacting! As the proverb says,
To stay’s appropriate.
Loitering irritates!
Let us stay here for one more month, just to satisfy the wishes of mother and sons. What’s the hurry?”
“Oh?” snapped the Tang Monk, and immediately our Idiot gave his own mouth a couple of slaps, saying, “Shhhhh! Shhhhh! Don’t talk! You’re making noises again!” On one side Pilgrim and Sha Monk began to giggle uncontrollably.
“What are you laughing at?” said the Tang Monk to Pilgrim, sorely annoyed. Making the magic sign with his fingers, he was about to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. So horrified was Pilgrim that he at once went to his knees to say, “Master, I wasn’t laughing! I wasn’t laughing! Don’t recite that spell, I beg you!”
When the squire saw that master and disciples were becoming more and more rancorous, he dared not insist on their staying any longer. All he said was, “The Venerable Masters need not quarrel. I promise you that I shall escort you on your way tomorrow.” He went out of the sūtra hall and told his secretary to send over a hundred invitations to his relatives and neighbors to join him in sending off in the morning the old master from the Tang court in his westward journey. In the meantime, he ordered the chefs to prepare a farewell banquet, and his steward to have twenty pairs of colored banners made up and to find a band of musicians and drummers. A group of monks from the South Advent Monastery and a group of Daoists from the East Summit Abbey were to be ready to join the party by the hour of the Serpent in the morning. His domestic staff obeyed and left. In a little while, it was nightfall. After the evening meal, they all retired. You see
A few crows to the village homeward fly.
Drums and bells toll from distant towers high.
Human traffic ceases in the street and mart;
From all households lights and fires now depart.
In moonlight and wind blossoms show their shade;
The stars the obscure silver stream pervade.
The night has deepened for the nightjars weep;
The heavens grow silent when the earth’s asleep.
At the time it was no more than the hour between the third and fourth watch when those houseboys in charge of various affairs all rose early in order to complete their tasks. Look at them!
Those preparing the banquet
Rushed about in the kitchen;
Those making the colored banners
Clamored before the hall;
Those beckoning monks and priests
Sprinted on their two legs;
Those calling for musicians
Hurled themselves forward;
Those sending out invitations
Darted east and west;
Those readying horse and carriage
Shouted back and forth.
From the hour of midnight, the tumult lasted till dawn. By about the hour of the Serpent, every business was concluded—with money, of course!
We tell you now
about the Tang Monk and his disciples, who also rose early, attended by all those people. The elder at once gave the instruction to pack and to hitch up the horse. When our Idiot heard that they were truly about to leave, he pouted his fat lips some more and grumbled incessantly, but he had no choice other than to pack up the cassock and almsbowl and pick up the pole and its load. Having brushed and scrubbed down the horse, Sha Monk saddled it and waited. Pilgrim handed the nine-ringed priestly staff to his master and hung the satchel containing his travel rescript on his own chest. They were about to walk out together when the squire came to invite them to a large sitting room in the rear, where a huge banquet was spread out. The hospitality they encountered here was quite different from what they received in the dining hall in front. They saw
Curtains loftily hung
And screens on all four sides.
Hung in the center
Was a painting with the aged mountain and blessed sea motif;
Displayed on two walls
Were the scenes of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.
From dragon-veined tripods rose incense smoke;
Auspicious air grew in crow-tortoise urns.
The display-plates’ many colors
Showed vivid bejeweled floral patterns;
The side tables’ mounds of gold
Held orderly rows of lion-god candies.
Drums and dances followed the graceful notes;
Brocadelike food and fruits were placed in the hall.
Such refined vegetarian soup and rice!
Such attractive fragrant tea and wine!
Though this was a home of a commoner,
It was not different from a noble’s house.
You could hear only a joyous hubbub
That truly disturbed Heaven and Earth.
The elder was just greeting the squire when a houseboy appeared and said, “The guests have all arrived.” These were all neighbors left and right, the wife’s brothers, the cousins, and the sisters’ husbands. There were also squires who had jointly pledged to keep a diet, and Buddhist believers. After all of them bowed ceremoniously to the elder, they took their proper seats as pipes and strings played below the steps and the feasting went on inside the hall.
