by Unknown
Mars himself added charcoals piece by piece.
Five Kings of Five Quarters applied their schemes;
Twelve Gods of Time expended all their skills.
They made nine prongs like dangling teeth of jade,
And brass rings were cast with dropping gold leaves.
Decked with five stars and six brightnesses,
Its frame conformed to eight spans and four climes.
Its whole length set to match the cosmic scheme
Accorded with yin yang, with the sun and moon:
Six-Diagram Gods etched as Heaven ruled;18
Eight-Trigram Stars stood in ranks and files.
They named this the High Treasure Golden Rake,
A gift for Jade Emperor to guard his court.
Since I learned to be a great immortal,
Becoming someone with longevity,
I was made Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds
And given this rake, a sign of royal grace.
When it’s held high, there’ll be bright flames and light;
When it’s brought low, strong wind blows down white snow.
The warriors of Heaven all fear it;
The Ten Kings of Hell all shrink from it.
Are there such weapons among mankind?
In this wide world there’s no such fine steel.
It changes its form after my own wish,
Rising and falling after my command.
I’ve kept it with me for several years,
A daily comrade I never parted from.
I’ve stayed with it right through the day’s three meals,
Nor left it when I went to sleep at night.
I brought it along to the Peaches Feast,
And with it I attended Heaven’s court.
Since I wrought evil relying on wine,
Since trusting my strength I displayed my fraud,
Heaven sent me down to this world of dust,
Where in my next life I would sin some more.
With wicked mind I ate men in my cave,
Pleased to be married at the Gao Village.
This rake can overturn sea dragons’ and turtles’ lairs
And rake up mountain dens of tigers and wolves.
All other weapons there’s no need to name,
Only my rake is of most fitting fame.
To win in battle? Why, it’s no hard thing!
And making merit? It need not be said!
You may have a bronze head, an iron brain, and a full steel frame.
I’ll rake till your soul melts and your spirit leaks!”
When Pilgrim heard these words, he put away his iron rod and said, “Don’t brag too much, Idiot! Old Monkey will stretch out his head right here, and you can give him a blow. See if his soul melts and his spirit leaks!” The monster did indeed raise his rake high and bring it down with all his might; with a loud bang, the rake made sparks as it bounced back up. But the blow did not make so much as a scratch on Pilgrim’s head. The monster was so astounded that his hands turned numb and his feet grew weak. He mumbled, “What a head! What a head!” “You didn’t know about this, did you?” said Pilgrim. “When I caused such turmoil in Heaven by stealing the magic pills, the immortal peaches, and the imperial wine, I was captured by the Little Sage Erlang and taken to the Polestar Palace. The various celestial beings chopped me with an ax, pounded me with a bludgeon, cut me with a scimitar, jabbed me with a sword, burned me with fire, and struck me with thunder—all this could not hurt me one whit. Then I was taken by Laozi and placed in his eight-trigram brazier, in which I was refined by divine fire until I had fiery eyes and diamond pupils, a bronze head and iron arms. If you don’t believe me, give me some more blows and see whether it hurts me at all.”
“Monkey,” said the monster, “I remember that at the time you were causing trouble in Heaven, you lived in the Water-Curtain Cave of the Flower-Fruit Mountain, in the Aolai Country of the East Pūrvavideha Continent. Your name hasn’t been heard of for a long time. How is it that you suddenly turn up at this place to oppress me? Could my father-in-law have gone all that way to ask you to come here?” “Your father-in-law did not go to fetch me,” said Pilgrim. “It’s old Monkey who turned from wrong to right, who left the Daoist to follow the Buddhist. I am now accompanying the royal brother of the Great Tang Emperor in the Land of the East, whose name is Tripitaka, Master of the Law. He is on his way to the Western Heaven to seek scriptures from Buddha. We passed through the Gao Village and asked for lodging; old man Gao then brought up the subject of his daughter and asked me to rescue her and to apprehend you, you overstuffed coolie!”
Hearing this, the monster threw away his muckrake and said with great affability, “Where is the scripture pilgrim? Please take the trouble of introducing me to him.” “Why do you want to see him?” asked Pilgrim. The monster said, “I was a convert of the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin, who commanded me to keep a vegetarian diet here and to wait for the scripture pilgrim. I was to follow him to the Western Heaven to seek scriptures from the Buddha, so that I might atone for my sins with my merit and regain the fruits of Truth. I have been waiting for a number of years without receiving any further news. Since you have been made his disciple, why didn’t you mention the search for scriptures in the first place? Why did you have to unleash your violence and attack me right at my own door?”
“Don’t try to soften me with deception,” said Pilgrim, “thinking that you can escape that way. If you are truly sincere about accompanying the Tang Monk, you must face Heaven and swear that you are telling the truth. Then I’ll take you to see my master.” At once the monster knelt down and kowtowed as rapidly as if he were pounding rice with his head. “Amitābha,” he cried, “Namo Buddha! If I am not speaking the truth in all sincerity, let me be punished as one who has offended Heaven—let me be hewn to pieces!”
Hearing him swear such an oath, Pilgrim said, “All right! You light a fire and burn up this place of yours; then I’ll take you with me.” The monster accordingly dragged in bunches of rushweed and thorns and lighted the fire; the Cloudy Paths Cave soon looked like a derelict potter’s kiln. “I have no other attachment,” he said to Pilgrim. “You can take me away.” “Give me your muckrake and let me hold it,” said Pilgrim, and our monster at once handed it over. Yanking out a piece of hair, Pilgrim blew onto it and cried, “Change!” It changed into a three-ply hemp rope with which he prepared to tie up the monster’s hands. Putting his arms behind his back, the monster did nothing to stop himself from being bound. Then Pilgrim took hold of his ear and dragged him along, crying, “Hurry! Hurry!”
“Gently, please!” pleaded the monster. “You are holding me so roughly, and my ear is hurting!” “I can’t be any gentler,” said Pilgrim, “for I can’t worry about you now. As the saying goes, ‘The nicer the pig, the nastier the grip!’ After you have seen my master and proved your worth, I’ll let you go.” Rising up to a distance halfway between cloud and fog, they headed straight for the Gao Family Village. We have a poem as a testimony:19
Strong is metal’s nature to vanquish wood:
Mind Monkey has the Wood Dragon subdued.
With metal and wood both obedient as one,
All their love and virtue will grow and show.
One guest and one host20 there’s nothing between;
Three matings, three unions—there’s great mystery!21
Nature and feelings gladly fused as Last and First:22
Both will surely be enlightened in the West.
In a moment they had arrived at the village. Grasping the rake and pulling at the monster’s ear, Pilgrim said, “Look at the one sitting in a most dignified manner up there in the main hall: that’s my master.” When old Mr. Gao and his relatives suddenly saw Pilgrim dragging by the ear a monster who had his hands bound behind his back, they all gladly left their seats to meet them in the courtyard. The old man cried, “Honored Priest! There’s that son-in-law of mine.” Our monster went forward and fell on his kn
ees, kowtowing to Tripitaka and saying, “Master, your disciple apologizes for not coming to meet you. If I had known earlier that my master was staying in my father-in-law’s house, I would have come at once to pay my respects, and none of these troubles would have befallen me.” “Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “how did you manage to get him here to see me?” Only then did Pilgrim release his hold. Using the handle of the rake to give the monster a whack, he shouted, “Idiot! Say something!” The monster gave a full account of how the Bodhisattva had converted him.
Greatly pleased, Tripitaka said at once, “Mr. Gao, may I borrow your incense table?” Old Mr. Gao took it out immediately, and Tripitaka lighted the incense after purifying his hands. He bowed toward the south, saying, “I thank the Bodhisattva for her holy grace!” The other elders all joined in the worship by adding incense, after which Tripitaka resumed his seat in the main hall and asked Wukong to untie the monster. Pilgrim shook his body to retrieve his hair, and the rope fell off by itself. Once more the monster bowed to Tripitaka, declaring his intention to follow him to the West, and then bowed also to Pilgrim, addressing him as “elder brother” because he was the senior disciple.
“Since you have entered my fold and have decided to become my disciple,” said Tripitaka, “let me give you a religious name so that I may address you properly.” “Master,” said the monster, “the Bodhisattva already laid hands on my head and gave me the commandments and a religious name, which is Zhu Wuneng (Awake to Power).” “Good! Good!” said Tripitaka, laughing. “Your elder brother is named Wukong and you are called Wuneng; your names are well in accord with the emphasis of our denomination.” “Master,” said Wuneng, “since I received the commandments from the Bodhisattva, I was completely cut off from the five forbidden viands and the three undesirable foods. I maintained a strict vegetarian diet in my father-in-law’s house, never touching any forbidden food. Now that I have met my master today, let me be released from my vegetarian vow.” “No, no!” said Tripitaka. “Since you have not eaten the five forbidden viands and the three undesirable foods, let me give you another name. Let me call you Eight Rules.”23 Delighted, Idiot said, “I shall obey my master.” For this reason, he was also called Zhu Eight Rules.
When old Mr. Gao saw the happy ending of this whole affair, he was more delighted than ever. He ordered his houseboys immediately to prepare a feast to thank the Tang Monk. Eight Rules went forward and tugged at him, saying, “Papa, please ask my humble wife to come out and greet the granddads and uncles. How about it?” “Worthy brother!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “Since you have embraced Buddhism and become a monk, please don’t ever mention ‘your humble wife’ again. There may be a married Daoist in this world, but there’s no such monk, is there? Let’s sit down, rather, and have a nice vegetarian meal. We’ll have to start off soon for the West.”
Old Mr. Gao set the tables in order and invited Tripitaka to take the honored seat in the middle: Pilgrim and Eight Rules sat on both sides while the relatives took the remaining seats below. Mr. Gao opened a bottle of dietary wine and filled a glass: he sprinkled a little of the wine on the ground to thank Heaven and Earth before presenting the glass to Tripitaka. “To tell you the truth, aged sir,” said Tripitaka, “this poor monk has been a vegetarian from birth. I have not touched any kind of forbidden food since childhood.” “I know the reverend teacher is chaste and pure,” said old Mr. Gao, “and I did not dare bring forth any forbidden foodstuff. This wine is made for those who maintain a vegetarian diet: there’s no harm in your taking a glass.” “I just don’t dare use wine,” said Tripitaka. “for the prohibition of strong drink is a monk’s first commandment.” Alarmed, Wuneng said, “Master, though I kept a vegetarian diet, I didn’t cut out wine.” “Though my capacity is not great,” said Wukong, “and I’m not able to handle more than a crock or so, I haven’t discontinued the use of wine either.” “In that case,” said Tripitaka, “you two brothers may take some of this pure wine. But you are not permitted to get drunk and cause trouble.” So the two of them took the first round before taking their seats again to enjoy the feast. We cannot tell you in full what a richly laden table that was, and what varieties of delicacies were presented.
After master and disciples had been feted, old Mr. Gao took out a red lacquered tray bearing some two hundred taels of gold and silver in small pieces, which were to be presented to the three priests for travel expenses. There were, moreover, three outer garments made of fine silk. Tripitaka said, “We are mendicants who beg for food and drink from village to village. How could we accept gold, silver, and precious clothing?”
Coming forward and stretching out his hand, Pilgrim took a handful of the money, saying, “Gao Cai, yesterday you took the trouble to bring my master here, with the result that we made a disciple today. We have nothing to thank you with. Take this as remuneration for being a guide; perhaps you can use it to buy a few pairs of straw sandals. If there are any more monsters, turn them over to me and I’ll truly be grateful to you.” Gao Cai took the money and kowtowed to thank Pilgrim for his reward. Old Mr. Gao then said, “If the masters do not want the silver and gold, please accept at least these three simple garments, which are but small tokens of our goodwill.” “If those of us who have left the family,” said Tripitaka again, “accept the bribe of a single strand of silk, we may fall into ten thousand kalpas from which we may never recover. It is quite sufficient that we take along the leftovers from the table as provisions on our way.” Eight Rules spoke up from the side: “Master, Elder Brother, you may not want these things. But I was a son-in-law in this household for several years, and the payment for my services should be worth more than three stones of rice! Father, my shirt was torn by Elder Brother last night; please give me a cassock of blue silk. My shoes are worn also, so please give me a good pair of new shoes.” When old Mr. Gao heard that, he dared not refuse; a new pair of shoes and a cassock were purchased at once so that Eight Rules could dispose of the old attire.
Swaggering around, our Eight Rules spoke amiably to old Mr. Gao, saying, “Please convey my humble sentiments to my mother-in-law, my great-aunt, my second aunt, and my uncle-in-law, and all my other relatives. Today I am going away as a monk, and please do not blame me if I cannot take leave of them in person. Father, do take care of my better half. If we fail in our quest for scriptures, I’ll return to secular life and live with you again as your son-in-law.” “Coolie!” shouted Pilgrim. “Stop babbling nonsense!” “It’s not nonsense,” said Eight Rules. “Sometimes I fear that things may go wrong, and then I could end up unable either to be a monk or to take a wife, losing out on both counts.” “Less of this idle conversation!” said Tripitaka. “We must hurry up and leave.” They packed their luggage, and Eight Rules was told to carry the load with a pole. Tripitaka rode on the white horse, while Pilgrim led the way with the iron rod across his shoulders. The three of them took leave of old Mr. Gao and his relatives and headed toward the West. We have a poem as testimony:
The earth’s mist-shrouded, the trees appear tall.
The Buddha-son of Tang court ever toils.
He eats in need rice begged from many homes;
He wears when cold a robe patched a thousandfold.
Holdfast at the breast the Horse of the Will!
The Mind-Monkey is sly—let him not wail!
Nature one with feelings, causes all joined24—
The moon’s full of gold light when hair is shorn.25
The three of them proceeded toward the West, and for about a month it was an uneventful journey. When they crossed the boundary of Qoco, they looked up and saw a tall mountain. Tripitaka reined in his horse and said, “Wukong, Wuneng, there’s a tall mountain ahead. We must approach it with care.” “It’s nothing!” said Eight Rules. “This mountain is called the Pagoda Mountain and a Crow’s Nest Chan Master lives there, practicing austerities. Old Hog has met him before.” “What’s his business?” said Tripitaka. “He’s fairly accomplished in the Way,” said Eight Rules, “an
d he once asked me to practice austerities with him. But I didn’t go, and that was the end of the matter.”
As master and disciple conversed, they soon arrived at the mountain. What a splendid mountain! You see
South of it, blue pines, jade-green junipers;
North of it, green willows, red peach trees.
A clamorous din:
The mountain fowls are conversing.
A fluttering dance:
Immortal cranes unite in flying.
A dense fragrance:
The flowers in a thousand colors.
A manifold green:
Diverse plants in forms exotic.
In the stream green water flows bubbling;
Before the cliff float petals of hallowed cloud.
Truly a place of rare beauty, a well-secluded spot;
Silence is all, not a man to be seen.
As the master sat on his horse, peering into the distance, he saw on top of the fragrant juniper tree a nest made of dried wood and grass. To the left, musk deer carried flowers in their mouths; to the right, mountain monkeys were presenting fruits. At the top of the tree, blue and pink phoenixes sang together, soon to be joined by a congregation of black cranes and brightly colored pheasants. “Isn’t that the Crow’s Nest Chan Master?” asked Eight Rules, pointing. Tripitaka urged on his horse and rode up to the tree.
We now tell you about that Chan Master, who, seeing the three of them approach, left his nest and jumped down from the tree. Tripitaka dismounted and prostrated himself. Raising him up with his hand, the Chan Master said, “Holy Monk, please arise! Pardon me for not coming to meet you.” “Old Chan Master,” said Eight Rules, “please receive my bow!” “Aren’t you the Zhu Ganglie of the Fuling Mountain?” asked the Chan Master, startled. “How did you have the good fortune to journey with the holy monk?” “A few years back,” said Eight Rules, “I was beholden to the Bodhisattva Guanyin for persuading me to follow him as a disciple.” “Good! Good! Good!” said the Chan Master, greatly pleased. Then he pointed to Pilgrim and asked, “Who is this person?” “How is it that the old Chan recognizes him,” said Pilgrim, laughing, “and not me?” “Because I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you,” said the Chan Master. Tripitaka said, “He is my eldest disciple, Sun Wukong.” Smiling amiably, the Chan Master said, “How impolite of me!”
