The ghost-wardens, together with Liu Quan and his wife, passed out from the shades below. A ghostly wind came whirling, and in an instant they reached the great realm of Chang'an, where the wardens thrust the soul of Liu Quan into the Hostel of the Golden Pavilion and led the soul of Cuilian into the inner apartments of the imperial palace. There they saw the Princess Yuying pacing beneath the blossoming trees, treading step by step upon the green moss. A warden lunged full against her, knocked her to the ground and snatched away her soul; then he thrust the soul of Cuilian into the body of Yuying. That done, the wardens turned back to the shades below, and of them we say no more.
The palace maids, great and small, seeing that Yuying had fallen dead, ran in haste to the Hall of the Golden Bells and reported to the empresses of the Three Palaces: “The Princess our lady has fallen dead.” The empresses were greatly alarmed, and reported at once to Taizong.
When Taizong heard it he nodded and sighed. “This thing was truly foretold. I once asked the Ten Kings of the Underworld, ‘Are the old and the young at peace?’ and they answered, ‘All are at peace, yet we fear the imperial sister's span will be cut short.’ Their word has proved true.”
The whole company of the palace came grieving, and all went to look beneath the blossoming trees, where they saw the Princess faintly drawing breath.
“Weep not! Weep not!” said the Tang king. “Do not startle her.” Then he came forward, raised her head with his own royal hand, and called out: “Sister, awake, awake.”
The Princess suddenly turned over and cried: “Husband, walk slower — wait a while for me.”
“Sister, it is we who are here beside you.”
She lifted her head, opened wide her eyes, looked about her and said: “Who are you, that you dare lay hold of me?”
“We are your royal brother and your royal sister-in-law.”
“Where would I come by any royal brother or royal sister-in-law? My maiden family is surnamed Li; my milk-name was Li Cuilian. My husband is surnamed Liu, named Quan, and we are both natives of Junzhou. Three months ago, because I drew out a golden hairpin to give alms to a monk at our gate, my husband blamed me for leaving the inner doors without leave and failing in a wife's decorum, and rebuked me with several sharp words. My breath choked in my breast; I took a white silk sash, hanged myself from the beam, and left behind a pair of children to wail day and night. Now, because my husband was sent by the Tang king to bear melons and fruit down to the shades below, the King of the Dead took pity and released the two of us to return. He walked ahead, and because I came too late I could not catch him up, and so I stumbled and fell. You people are without manners! You do not know my name — how dare you lay hold of me?”
When Taizong heard this he said to the assembled palace folk: “It seems the imperial sister was stunned by her fall and talks nonsense.” He gave orders that the Court of Imperial Physicians send in broths and medicines, and had Yuying carried into the palace.
The Tang king was holding court when an officer of the imperial carriage suddenly announced: “Your Majesty, the melon-bearer Liu Quan has now returned to life, and waits beyond the palace gate for your command.” The Tang king was greatly astonished, and quickly gave order to summon him in; and Liu Quan bowed low upon the vermilion steps.
“How went the matter of the melons and fruit?” Taizong asked.
“Your servant bore them straight to the Gate of Ghosts, and was led up to the Hall of Judgment, where I saw the Ten Kings of the Underworld. I presented the melons and fruit and spoke fully of my king's earnest thanks. The Kings were greatly pleased, and again and again sent up their respects to my king, saying, ‘Truly he is a Taizong emperor of faith and of virtue!’”
“What did you see in the shades below?”
“Your servant did not travel far and saw little, but I heard the King of the Dead ask my native place and my name. I told, from beginning to end, how I had forsaken my home and abandoned my children, come because my wife had hanged herself, and wished to present the melons. He at once dispatched a ghost-warden to bring my wife across, and we met below the Hall of Judgment. On the other side, too, they examined the ledgers of life and death, and finding that we husband and wife both had years yet of ascent to immortality, they sent us back by a ghost-warden. Your servant walked ahead and my wife came behind, and by good fortune I was restored to life. But I do not know where my wife has been lodged.”
The Tang king asked in alarm: “Did the King of the Dead say anything of your wife?”
“The King of the Dead said nothing, but I heard a warden say, ‘Li Cuilian has long returned to the shades, and her corpse is no more.’ The King said, ‘The Tang imperial sister Li Yuying is fated to die untimely today; let Cuilian borrow Yuying's body and return to life.’ Your servant does not know what place this Tang imperial sister is, nor where her household lies, and I have not yet been able to go and seek her out.”
When the Tang king heard the report his heart was filled with joy, and turning to his assembled officials he said: “When I took my leave of the Kings below, I asked after the affairs of the palace. They said, ‘The old and the young are all at peace, yet we fear the imperial sister's span will be cut short.’ And just now the imperial sister Yuying fell dead beneath the blossoming trees; I hastened to raise and look upon her, and in a moment she revived, crying, ‘Husband, walk slower — wait a while for me.’ I took it for nothing but the raving of a fall; but when I questioned her more closely, what she told me was of a piece with Liu Quan's account.”
Wei Zheng submitted: “The imperial sister's span was cut short by chance, and scarcely had she revived when she spoke these words — this is the matter of Liu Quan's wife borrowing a body to return to life. Such things do occur. Your Majesty might have the Princess brought out, to see what she has to say.”
“I have only just ordered the Court of Imperial Physicians to send in medicines,” said the Tang king. “I do not know how she fares.” And he had the consorts go into the palace to invite her out.
But the Princess was clamoring within: “What medicine am I to take? How is this my home? My home is a cool tiled cottage, nothing like this jaundiced, sallow house with its garish, gaudy doors. Let me out! Let me out!”
Even as she clamored, four or five palace women and two or three eunuchs came supporting her, straight up to the hall.
“Do you know this man for your husband?” the Tang king asked.
“What a thing to say! We two have been wedded husband and wife since we were children, and I have borne him sons and daughters — how should I not know him?”
The Tang king bade an inner officer help her down. The Princess came down from the throne hall to the foot of the white-jade steps; and seeing Liu Quan, she seized hold of him. “Husband, where were you going, that you would not wait a moment for me? I took a fall, and was hemmed in and shouted at by those unreasonable people — what is the meaning of it?”
Now Liu Quan, hearing that her words were his wife's words but seeing that her face was not his wife's face, did not dare to acknowledge her.
“This is a very case of it,” said the Tang king. “When mountains crumble and the earth splits open there are those who witness it, but to seize the living as a substitute for the dead is a thing seldom met with.”
What a virtuous sovereign he was! He took at once the imperial sister's trousseau — her garments and her ornaments — and bestowed them all upon Liu Quan, just as if they were a bride's dowry. He also granted him a royal decree exempting him forever from corvée and labor service, and charged him to take the imperial sister home. The two of them, husband and wife, then gave thanks for the grace before the steps, and in great gladness set off for home.
There is a poem in witness:
That men are born and men must die is a bond ordained before;
and short or long, each life is measured to its allotted years.
Liu Quan bore the melons down and returned to the world of light;
and borrowing a body to come back, Li Cuilian lived once more.
The two took leave of their sovereign and went straight to the city of Junzhou, where they found their old estate and their children all in good order; and the couple made known the good fruits of their karma — of which we say no more.
Yuchi Gong, meanwhile, took a treasury of gold and silver up to Kaifeng Prefecture in Henan to seek out Xiang Liang. This Xiang Liang, it turned out, made his living selling water, and together with his wife, née Zhang, kept a stall before their door hawking black crocks and earthenware. Whatever little he earned he counted enough for his keep, and what more there was he spent on alms to monks and on charity — buying paper ingots of gold and silver to burn as offerings recorded to his account below. It was for this that so good a fruit had come to rest upon him: in the world of light he was a poor man who loved to do good; in that other world he was an elder with jade in heaps and gold in piles.
When Yuchi Gong brought the gold and silver to his door, it so terrified Master and Mistress Xiang that their souls flew off and their spirits scattered — the more so as the prefecture's officials had come with them, and carriages and horses stood thronged outside their thatched hut. The old couple, as if struck dumb and witless, knelt upon the ground and did nothing but knock their heads in reverence.
“Rise, good elders,” said Yuchi Gong. “Though I am an imperial commissioner, I have come only bearing my king's gold and silver to repay you.”
Trembling, he answered: “This humble one has lent out no gold or silver at all — how should I dare accept wealth of such unclear provenance?”
“I have indeed learned that you are a poor man,” said Yuchi Gong. “Only, you gave alms to monks and practiced charity to the very limit of your means, and bought paper ingots of gold and silver to burn as offerings recorded below — so that in the shades you have a store of cash laid by. When our Emperor Taizong died for three days and then returned to life, he borrowed in those shades a treasury of your gold and silver; and now, in that same amount, it is sent back to you. Take it all in, item by item, that I may go and report the errand done.”
The Xiang couple only worshipped toward heaven; how should they dare accept it? “If we humble folk were to take this gold and silver, we should die the sooner for it. Though it is true we burned paper to have it recorded to our account, that is a matter of the unseen dark; and besides, when His Majesty borrowed gold in that other world, what proof of it is there? We will by no means dare to receive it.”
“His Majesty says that Judge Cui stood surety for what was borrowed of you, and can bear witness to it,” said Yuchi Gong. “Take it, then.”
“Even were we to die for it,” said Xiang Liang, “we dare not take it.”
Seeing how bitterly he declined, Yuchi Gong had no choice but to draw up a memorial and dispatch a man to lay it before the throne. When Taizong saw it and learned that Xiang Liang would not accept the gold, he said: “This is truly a good and worthy elder.” He at once decreed that Hu Jingde should use the gold and silver to repair a monastery for him and raise a shrine to his living merit, and invite monks to perform good works — counting this as though the debt were repaid to him. On the day the decree arrived, Jingde bowed toward the palace gate, gave thanks for the grace, and proclaimed it, so that all came to know of it.
So with the gold and silver he purchased within the city a parcel of ground unencumbered by soldiery or commoner, some fifty mu in compass, and there set the work in motion and raised a monastery, named The Xiangguo Temple, Built by Imperial Command. To its left stood a shrine to the living merit of Master and Mistress Xiang; and a stone was carved and graven, inscribed ‘Overseen in the building by Yuchi Gong’ — which is the very temple known today as the Great Xiangguo Temple.
When the work was completed and reported back, Taizong was greatly pleased. He then assembled his many officials once more, issued a proclamation to summon monks, and set about holding a Grand Mass of Land and Water to deliver the orphaned souls of the underworld. The proclamation went forth throughout the realm, charging officials everywhere to select eminent monks of the Way and send them up to Chang'an to hold the assembly; and in less than a month's time, monks from all over the empire had arrived.
The Tang king issued a command charging Fu Yi, Assistant Grand Astrologer, to choose out the eminent monks and set the Buddhist services in train. But when Fu Yi received the command, he at once submitted a memorial to halt the Buddhist rites, arguing that there is no Buddha.
The memorial read: “The doctrine of the Western Regions knows nothing of ruler and subject, of father and son. With its Three Paths and Six Ways it deludes and beguiles the foolish and ignorant. It calls men to account for sins past and holds out the lure of blessings to come, so that with Sanskrit words chanted from the mouth they may scheme to steal exemption. Moreover, life and death, long life and early death, proceed from nature itself; while punishment and reward, awe and favor, rest with the sovereign of men. Yet now I hear that common devotees make false pretense, and all say these things proceed from the Buddha.
“From the Five Emperors and the Three Kings there was no Buddha-dharma; yet rulers were enlightened and ministers loyal, and their years and their fortune endured long. It was only under Emperor Ming of Han that the barbarian god was first set up; and even then it was but the śramaṇas of the Western Regions who spread their own teaching. This is in truth an intrusion of the foreign upon the Middle Kingdom, and not worth crediting.”
When Taizong heard it, he cast the memorial down before his assembled ministers for them to debate. Then the Chancellor Xiao Yu stepped forth from the ranks, bowed his head, and submitted: “The Buddha-dharma has flourished through successive dynasties; it magnifies good and curbs evil, and secretly aids the state — in reason it may not be cast away. The Buddha is a sage. He who holds no sage to be lawful is himself lawless; I beg that severe punishment be laid upon such a man.”
Fu Yi disputed with him: “Ritual propriety is rooted in serving one's parents and one's ruler; but the Buddha turned his back on his kin and left his home, setting a common man against the Son of Heaven and, by his succession of rites, defying those to whom he owed duty. Xiao Yu was not born from a hollow mulberry tree, yet he follows a fatherless teaching — this is precisely what is meant by the saying: he who denies filial duty has no kin.”
Xiao Yu only pressed his palms together and said: “Hell was established precisely for men such as this.”
Taizong summoned Zhang Daoyuan, Chief Minister of the Court of the Imperial Stud, and Zhang Shiheng, Secretariat Director, and asked what would come of pursuing merit through Buddhist rites. The two ministers replied: “The Buddha abides in purity, benevolence, and forbearance; its fruit is upright, and Buddha-nature is emptiness. Emperor Wu of Zhou ranked the Three Teachings in order; the Chan Master Dahui offered praises profound and far-reaching; through all the offerings of the multitude, none failed to manifest its power; the Fifth Patriarch was reborn in the flesh, and Bodhidharma made his form appear. From ancient times all have said that the Three Teachings are supreme, and may not be reviled, may not be abolished. We humbly beg Your Majesty's sage discernment and clear judgment.”
Taizong, greatly pleased, said: “Your words accord with reason. Should any again raise such objections, let him be punished.” He then charged Wei Zheng, together with Xiao Yu and Zhang Daoyuan, to invite the Buddhas and to choose out one of great virtue and conduct to serve as master of the altar and establish the place of ritual. All bowed their heads to the ground, gave thanks for the grace, and withdrew. And from this time forth a law was issued: whoever should revile a monk or slander the Buddha would have his arm cut off.
The next day the three court ministers gathered the assembled monks in the Altar of Mountains and Streams, and reviewed them one by one from the beginning, choosing out from among them a single eminent monk of true virtue and conduct. And who, do you ask, was he?
Numinous and penetrating, his true name was the Golden Cicada;
only because, careless of heart, he let slip the Buddha's lecture,
he was cast into the dusty mortal world to suffer its grinding,
and born into the common age to meet its snares and nets.
Falling to earth in the womb, he met with violence at once;
before ever he was born, he faced a wicked band.
His father was Chen, the Top Graduate of Haizhou;
his mother's father, a Commander, was a chief of the reigning court.
At birth his fate fell under the star of the drowned river;
on the current, amid the waves, he drifted in the swelling flood.
On the island of Gold Mountain lay a great affinity;
the monk Qian'an took him in and reared him.
When just eighteen he knew his own mother again,
and hastened to the capital to seek his mother's elder kin.
The Commander Kaishan mustered a great army,
and at Hongzhou put down the brigands and slew the wicked band.
The Top Graduate Guangrui escaped the net of heaven;
father and son met once more, a thing to be praised and prized.
Once more he paid court to the reigning sovereign and received his grace;
on the Lingyan Tower his worthy name resounded.
The office of favor he would not take, wishing to become a monk;
at Hongfu Temple, a śramaṇa, he went seeking the Way.
His childhood name was Jiangliu, the ancient Buddha's child;
his dharma-name was called Chen Xuanzang.
That day, before the assembly, they put forward the Dharma Master Xuanzang. This man had been a monk from his earliest years; from the moment he left his mother's womb he kept the fast and held the precepts. His maternal grandfather, as it happened, was Yin Kaishan, a Circuit Commander of the reigning court, and his father, Chen Guangrui, had placed first in the examinations and was appointed Grand Academician of the Wenyuan Hall. With a single heart he cared nothing for glory and splendor, and delighted only in cultivating the stillness of nirvana. On inquiry his origins were found to be excellent and his virtue and conduct lofty; of the thousand scriptures and myriad canons there was none he did not master; of the Buddha's chants and the immortals' melodies there was no kind he could not perform.
Then the three led him before the imperial presence, where he made obeisance with the raising of dust and the dance of homage. Their bows completed, they submitted: “We, your servants Xiao Yu and the rest, in obedience to the sage command, have selected one eminent monk, Chen Xuanzang.”
When Taizong heard the name, he pondered a long while and said: “Could this be Xuanzang, the son of the Academician Chen Guangrui?”
Jiangliu-er knocked his head. “Your servant is the very man.”
“Truly he has been rightly put forward,” said Taizong with pleasure. “He is indeed a monk of virtue and conduct, and of a heart set on Chan. I grant you the offices of Left Samgha-Controller and Right Samgha-Controller, and of Chief Samgha-Controller and Grand Expositor of all the realm.”
Xuanzang bowed his head, gave thanks for the grace, and received the rank of Grand Expositor. He was also granted a cassock of five-colored gold brocade and a Vairocana mitre, and was ordered to take pains to choose the enlightened monks anew, to arrange in order the ranks of the ācāryas and the leaders of the assembly, to draw up the imperial command in writing, to proceed to the Huasheng Temple, and there, choosing an auspicious day and hour, to open the exposition of the scriptural law.
Xuanzang bowed once more, received the command, and withdrew; then he went to the Huasheng Temple, gathered the many monks, had meditation couches built, adorned the merit-hall, and put the music in order. He chose enlightened monks great and small, twelve hundred in all, and distributed them among the upper, middle, and lower halls. Before all the Buddha-images the appointments were complete, and everything set in due order. He fixed upon the third day of the ninth month of that year, an auspicious hour of a propitious day, to open a Grand Mass of Land and Water to run seven times seven — forty-nine days — and drew up a memorial and submitted it to the throne. Taizong, with his civil and military officers and the imperial kin, all came to the assembly at the appointed time to offer incense and hear the exposition. There is a poem in witness:
The dragon-year gathered in Zhenguan, its very thirteenth;
the king proclaimed the assembled host to expound the scriptures.
At the ritual site they opened the exposition of the measureless Law;
cloud and mist and light rode upon the great-vow shrine.
By imperial edict, grace was bestowed to raise the lofty temple;
the Golden Cicada, shedding its shell, was transformed toward the West.
Broadly bestowing good fruits, it delivered the drowned and the sunken;
upholding the teaching and proclaiming it — before and after, the Three.
In the thirteenth year of Zhenguan, the year being jisi, the ninth month jiaxu, the third day, the fine hour of guimao, the Grand Expositor Dharma Master Chen Xuanzang assembled twelve hundred eminent monks, all at the Huasheng Temple in the city of Chang'an, to open the exposition of the various sublime scriptures. That emperor, the morning court concluded, led his civil and military officers and, riding the phoenix-palanquin and dragon-carriage, left the Hall of the Golden Bells and came straight up to the temple to offer incense. How shall that imperial equipage be described? Truly it was thus:
A whole sky of auspicious vapors, ten thousand shafts of propitious light.
A benevolent breeze, light and softly stirring;
a transforming sun, radiant beyond the common.
A thousand officials, their girdle-pendants ranged before and behind;
the Five Guards, their banners arrayed on either side.
Bearers of golden maces, holders of axes and battle-axes, pair upon pair, rank upon rank;
crimson gauze lanterns, the imperial censer's incense, curling thick and stately.
Dragons soaring, phoenixes dancing; ospreys presented, hawks on the wing.
A sage and enlightened Son of Heaven, upright;
loyal and righteous great ministers, good.
Blessings assured for a thousand years, surpassing Shun and Yu;
peace and prosperity for a myriad ages, rivaling Yao and Tang.
See too the crook-handled parasols, the coiling-dragon robes, their brilliance shining each upon each;
jade linked-rings, painted phoenix fans, auspicious mists floating aloft.
Pearl crowns and jade girdles, purple cords and golden seals.
Guard troops in a thousand squads, carriage-attending officers in two rows.
This emperor, bathed and purified, in reverent sincerity honored the Buddha;
taking refuge in the good fruit, he gladly offered incense.
The Tang king's great carriage had come early to the temple gate, and he gave order to still the music and the sounding instruments. Descending from the palanquin, he led his many officials in worship of the Buddha and the offering of incense; and three circumambulations completed, he raised his head to look, and it was indeed a fine ritual site. Behold:
Pennons and streamers fluttering in the dance; jeweled canopies flashing bright.
Pennons and streamers fluttering in the dance — they seemed to hold the air, band upon band of colored cloud a-sway;
jeweled canopies flashing bright — they caught the sun, wave upon wave of crimson lightning shot through.
The World-Honored One's golden image, its features serene and full;
the arhats' jade countenances, awesome and fierce.
In vases, immortal flowers; in censers, sandalwood and jiangzhen incense burning.
In vases, immortal flowers — brocade trees glimmering, spread through the precious temple;
in censers, sandalwood and jiangzhen incense burning — fragrant clouds curling thick, piercing the clear empyrean.
Fresh seasonal fruits heaped on vermilion trays; wondrous sugar-pastries piled on painted tables.
Eminent monks ranged in rows, chanting the true scriptures,
praying to pluck the forsaken souls from their tribulation.
Taizong and his civil and military officers all offered incense, made obeisance to the golden body of the Buddha-Patriarch, and paid reverence to the arhats. Then the Grand Expositor and Chief Samgha-Controller, the Dharma Master Chen Xuanzang, led the assembled monks in ranged obeisance to the Tang king; and the rites concluded, they divided into ranks and each settled in his meditation-seat. The Dharma Master then presented the Proclamation for the Relief of the Forsaken for Taizong to read. The proclamation said:
“Supreme virtue is vast and boundless; the Chan school, still and extinguished. Pure and numinous and penetrating, it flows through the Three Realms. In a thousand transformations and myriad changes, it governs the yin and the yang. In essence and function truly constant, it is without limit or end.
“Regarding those forsaken souls, they are deeply to be pitied. Herein, in obedience to Taizong's sage command, we have selected and assembled the monks to sit in Chan and expound the Law. Opening wide the gate of expedient means, broadly plying the boat and oar of compassion, we would universally ferry the multitudes from the sea of suffering, and free them from the deep affliction of the Six Ways. Leading them back to the true path, they shall roam freely in the primal vastness; in movement and rest, in non-action, they shall be merged into pure simplicity.
“By this good cause, they shall be summoned to the reward of the Pure Capital and its crimson towers; availing themselves of our excellent assembly, they shall escape from hell and the cage of the mortal world. Soon they shall ascend to the Land of Ultimate Bliss to wander at will, and come and go in the Western Quarter as they please.”
The poem says:
One censer of longevity's incense, a few scrolls of the rebirth registers.
The boundless wondrous Law proclaimed; the limitless grace of Heaven bathing all.
Grievances and sins all dissolved away; the forsaken souls all freed from prison.
May it guard our realm and household — in peace and quiet, myriad blessings for all.
When Taizong had read it, his heart was filled with joy, and he said to the assembled monks: “You have set your sincere hearts to this — by no means be slack in the Buddhist services. When afterward the work is done and complete, and each of you has blessings to his portion, I shall reward you richly, and by no means let your labor go for nothing.”
Those twelve hundred monks knocked their heads as one and gave thanks. That day the three services completed, the Tang king's carriage returned; he would await the seventh day, the main assembly, when he was again to be invited to offer incense. The sky was now growing late, and all the officials withdrew. How may that fine evening be told? Look there:
For a myriad li the vast sky pales in the fading glow;
returning crows, a few dark specks, descend late to roost.
Throughout the city, lamplight; the smoke of dwellings still —
it is just the hour when the Chan monks enter their trance.
So the evening scene of that one night is told and passed. Early the next morning the Dharma Master again ascended his seat, and gathered the host to chant the scriptures — of which we say no more.
Now Guanshiyin, the Bodhisattva of Mount Potalaka in the Southern Sea, having received the Buddha Tathagata's command, had been searching the city of Chang'an for the good man to fetch the scriptures, and for many a day had not met with one of true virtue and conduct. Then suddenly she heard that Taizong was proclaiming the good fruits, choosing out eminent monks and holding a great assembly; and she saw further that the master of the altar was none other than the monk Jiangliu-er — truly a Buddha-son come down from the Land of Ultimate Bliss, and the very elder who had once escorted him into the womb.
The Bodhisattva was greatly pleased, and took the treasures bestowed by the Buddha up onto the long avenue, to sell together with Moksha. And what treasures were they, do you ask? There was a cassock of brocade, a rare treasure, and a nine-ringed pilgrim's staff. There were also those three fillets — the Gold, the Tight, and the Ban — which she kept closely hidden away, to be used later on; only the cassock and the staff did she put up for sale.
In the city of Chang'an there was a foolish monk who had failed to be selected, but who happened to have a few strings of country cash. Seeing the Bodhisattva transformed into a scabby, mangy figure — clad in a torn cassock, barefoot and bald-headed, holding the cassock forth all radiant with light — he came up and asked: “Scabby monk, how much do you want for that cassock of yours?”
“The cassock is worth five thousand taels,” said the Bodhisattva, “the staff two thousand.”
That foolish monk laughed. “These two scabby monks are madmen! Are fools! These two coarse things — to sell for seven thousand taels of silver? Only if wearing them on your body made you live forever without aging, or gain buddhahood and patriarchhood at once, would they even be worth so much! Take them away! There's no sale!”
That Bodhisattva did not argue further, but went on ahead with Moksha. After walking a good while, they came before the Donghua Gate, and ran right into the Chancellor Xiao Yu returning from the adjourned court, his outriders clearing the streets with shouts. That Bodhisattva made no move to avoid them, but stood in the middle of the street holding up the cassock, and went straight to meet the Chancellor. The Chancellor reined in his horse to look, and seeing the cassock all radiant with light, had his attendants ask the seller what price he wanted. “The cassock, five thousand taels,” said the Bodhisattva; “the staff, two thousand.”
“What virtue has it, to be worth so high a price?” said Xiao Yu.
“The cassock has its virtues and its faults; there are cases where it costs money, and cases where it does not.”
“What do you mean by its virtue? What by its fault?”
“One who wears my cassock will not sink into perdition, will not fall into hell, will not meet the calamity of malice, will not encounter the disaster of tiger and wolf — that is its virtue. But for the foolish monk who covets lust and delights in calamity, the monk who keeps neither fast nor precept, the worldling who reviles the scriptures and slanders the Buddha — such a one shall hardly look upon the face of my cassock, and that is its fault.”
“And what do you mean by its costing money, or not costing money?”
“To one who does not follow the Buddha's Law, does not revere the Three Treasures, and would buy the cassock and staff by force, insisting on paying his seven thousand taels — to such a one it costs money. But to one who honors the Three Treasures, rejoices at the sight of good, takes refuge in my Buddha, and is worthy to receive it — to such a one I would gladly give the cassock and staff, to forge a good affinity with me; and that is its costing nothing.”
When Xiao Yu heard this, his face flushed the more with pleasure, for he knew this was a good man. At once he dismounted and greeted the Bodhisattva with due ceremony. “Great Dharma Elder, forgive the fault of your servant Xiao Yu. Our Great Tang emperor loves goodness above all, and not one of his civil and military officers but carries it out. Just now he is holding a Grand Mass of Land and Water, and this cassock is just the thing for the Grand Chief Expositor, the Dharma Master Chen Xuanzang, to wear. Come, you and I, into court to see His Majesty.”
The Bodhisattva gladly assented, turned on her heel, and went straight in through the Donghua Gate. The gate-officer relayed the report, and by imperial command they were summoned to the treasure-hall. Seeing Xiao Yu leading two scabby, mangy monks who stood below the steps, the Tang king asked: “What does Xiao Yu come to report?”
Xiao Yu prostrated himself before the steps. “As your servant was leaving the Donghua Gate, I chanced upon two monks who were selling a cassock and a staff. I thought the Dharma Master Xuanzang might wear this garment, and so have brought the monks to present themselves.”
Taizong was greatly pleased, and asked what the cassock was worth. The Bodhisattva and Moksha stood in attendance below the steps and did not even perform obeisance; and when asked the cassock's price, answered: “The cassock, five thousand taels; the staff, two thousand.”
“What virtue has that cassock, to be worth so much?” said Taizong.
The Bodhisattva said:
This cassock — let a dragon drape but one thread of it,
and it is spared the disaster of the roc's devouring;
let a crane hang but one strand,
and it gains the marvel of passing beyond the mortal into the holy.
Wherever its wearer but sits, ten thousand spirits pay court-homage;
in his every movement, the Seven Buddhas attend him.
This cassock is spun from the silk of ice-silkworms, drawn into thread by cunning artisans,
tossed and worked into yarn, woven by immortal maidens and finished on the loom by goddesses;
square upon square, its panels gathered and sewn with embroidered flowers.
Piece joined to piece, heaped upon the brocade reed.
Exquisite scattered fragments vie in their flowered adornment;
bright of hue, drifting light, spurting jeweled splendor.
Put on, a red mist wreathes the whole body;
taken off, a swath of colored cloud takes flight.
Beyond the Three Heavens' gate it lets through a primal radiance;
before the Five Sacred Peaks it breeds a jeweled vapor.
Layer upon layer inlaid with Western lotus-blooms;
glittering, hung with pearls in the images of the stars.
At its four corners are night-shining pearls; gathered at its crown, a single emerald.
Though it does not wholly reveal its original substance,
yet it has the radiance of eight gathered treasures.
This cassock — in idle times folded away, only for a holy occasion worn.
Folded away in idle times, wrapped in a thousand layers, yet it shines through like a rainbow;
worn for a holy occasion, it startles all the heavens and makes the spirits and demons afraid.
Upon it are the wish-granting pearl, the mani pearl, the dust-repelling pearl, the wind-stilling pearl;
and there are red agate, purple coral, night-shining pearls, and sarira relics.
Stealing the moon's white glow, contending with the sun in redness.
Strand upon strand of immortal vapor fills the air;
cluster upon cluster of auspicious light upholds the holy.
Strand upon strand of immortal vapor fills the air, shining clear through to the gate of heaven;
cluster upon cluster of auspicious light upholds the holy, casting its glow throughout the world.
It lights the mountains and streams, and startles the tigers and leopards;
it shadows the sea-isles, and stirs the fish and dragons.
Along its edges, two bands of gold-wrought clasps;
at its collar-fastening, a linked ring of white-jade cong.
The poem says:
The Three Treasures, lofty and high, their Way to be revered;
the Four Births and Six Ways, all fully weighed and judged.
Clarifying the mind, it can nurture the Law of men and gods;
seeing one's nature, it can transmit the lamp of wisdom.
Guarding the body, majestic as a golden world;
body and mind made pure as ice in a jade vessel.
Ever since the Buddha ordained the cassock,
through a myriad kalpas who would dare cut off the monkhood?
The Tang king, hearing this in the treasure-hall, was greatly pleased. He asked again: “And that staff, monk — what virtue has the nine-ringed staff?”
“This staff of mine,” said the Bodhisattva, “it is thus:”
Of bronze inlaid and iron wrought, nine linked rings;
nine-jointed immortal cane, its bloom forever fresh.
Taken in hand, one wearies of gazing on its lean green bones;
descending the mountain, it lightly brings the white clouds back.
With it Maha the Fifth Patriarch roamed the heavenly towers;
with it Luobo, seeking his mother, broke through the barriers of earth.
Unstained by the least mote of the red dust's filth,
gladly it attends the holy monk up the Jade Mountain.
When the Tang king heard this, he had the cassock spread open and examined it closely from top to bottom, and it was indeed a fine thing. “Great Dharma Elder, I will not deceive you,” he said. “I am now opening wide the good teaching and broadly sowing the field of blessings; at the Huasheng Temple yonder I have gathered a host of monks to expound the scriptural law. Among them is one of great virtue and conduct, Xuanzang by dharma-name. I would buy these two treasures of yours to bestow on him for his use. What in truth is your price?”
The Bodhisattva, hearing this, pressed her palms together with Moksha in reverence, uttered the Buddha's name, and bowing said: “Since he is one of virtue and conduct, this poor monk would gladly give them to him, and will by no means take money.” So saying, she turned to go.
The Tang king hurriedly had Xiao Yu hold her back, and rising said: “You first said the cassock was five thousand taels, the staff two thousand; now that you see I wish to buy, you will take no money. Do you suppose I presume upon my kingly station to demand your things by force? There is no such principle. I will repay you at your stated price, and you may not evade it.”
The Bodhisattva raised her hands. “This poor monk made a vow beforehand: I said that if one truly honors the Three Treasures, rejoices at the sight of good, and takes refuge in my Buddha, I would take no money but gladly give them to him. Now I see that Your Majesty is of enlightened virtue and delights in good, and reveres my Buddha's gate; and further, that the eminent monk has virtue and conduct and proclaims the great Law. By reason I ought to present them, and will by no means take money. This poor monk would leave these things behind and take my leave.”
The Tang king, seeing her so earnest, was greatly pleased. He then ordered the Court of Imperial Entertainments to lay out a great vegetarian feast in thanks; but the Bodhisattva firmly declined even this, and went off contentedly, retiring as before to hide in the metropolitan earth-god's shrine — of which we say no more.
Taizong then held the noon court and had Wei Zheng bear the edict summoning Xuanzang to court. That Dharma Master was just then gathering the host upon the altar, chanting scriptures and reciting gathas; and hearing the edict, he came down at once from the altar, straightened his robes, and went with Wei Zheng to the audience.
“To seek confirmation of the good work, I have troubled you, Master, and have nothing with which to repay you,” said Taizong. “Earlier this morning Xiao Yu met two monks who wished to present a brocade cassock, a rare treasure, and a nine-ringed staff. Now I have specially summoned you, Master, to take them for your use.”
Xuanzang knocked his head in thanks for the grace.
“If you do not disdain them, Master, put them on that I may see.”
The elder then shook out the cassock and draped it over his body, took the staff in hand, and stood in attendance before the steps. Ruler and ministers, one and all, were delighted. Truly he was a Buddha-son of the Tathagata. Look at him:
Stern and awesome his features, most refined and fair;
the Buddha-robe fits his form as if cut to measure.
Its glowing radiance, brilliant, fills heaven and earth;
its woven colors, profuse, congeal upon the cosmos.
Bright, bright the pearls arrayed above and below;
layer on layer the golden threads run front and back.
Tula cotton on all four sides, brocade along the hem;
ten thousand rare devices spread in patterned embroidery.
Eight treasures adorn its flowers, bound with knotted silk;
a gold ring clasps the collar, laced with velvet buttons.
Buddha-heavens great and small ranged high and low;
star-images noble and base divided left and right.
The Dharma Master Xuanzang has a great affinity;
this thing now before him he is worthy to receive.
Wholly like a living arhat of Ultimate Bliss;
surpassing the Western Quarter's truly awakened fair.
The staff jingles, its nine rings clashing;
the Vairocana mitre gleams, ample and rich.
Truly a Buddha-son, no false report;
surpassing bodhi itself, without deceit or error.
At this the civil and military officers cheered before the steps. Taizong, unable to contain his delight, had the master put on the cassock and take up the treasure-staff; and he further granted two files of ceremonial attendants, and had his officials escort him out the court gate and direct him to parade up the main street to the temple, just as a newly-placed Top Graduate parades to show off his rank. As he went, Xuanzang bowed again in thanks for the grace, and on that great street, blazing and thunderous, he swayed and strode in stately show.
Look, throughout the city of Chang'an — traveling merchants and settled traders, young lords and princely scions, ink-wielding scholars and men of letters, grown men and little girls — there was not one but vied to gaze and to praise, and all said: “What a fine Dharma Master! Truly it is a living arhat come down, a living bodhisattva descended to the mortal world.”
Xuanzang came straight to the temple, and the monks came down from their couches to meet him. The moment they saw him draped in this cassock and bearing this staff, they all said it was King Kshitigarbha come, and each took refuge and attended to his left and right. Xuanzang went up into the hall and offered incense in worship of the Buddha; and when he had finished recounting his gratitude for the imperial grace to the assembly, each returned to his meditation-seat. Before they knew it, the red wheel of the sun sank in the west. It was just then that:
The sun sets, mist blurs the grass and trees;
in the imperial capital the bells and drums first sound.
Ding, ding — three strokes cut off the passers-by;
before and behind, the streets fall silent.
In the lofty temple, lamplight blazes bright;
in the lonely village, cold and desolate, no sound.
The Chan monks enter their trance and con the remaining sutras —
just the time to refine the demons and nurture the nature.
Time slipped by at a finger's snap, and it came to the seventh day, the main assembly. Xuanzang again drew up a memorial, inviting the Tang king to offer incense; and by this time the fame of the good work filled all under heaven. Taizong at once ordered his equipage, and led his civil and military officers, his consorts and imperial kin, and came early to the temple; and the whole city, high and low, noble and base without distinction, all came to the temple to hear the exposition.
Just then the Bodhisattva said to Moksha: “Today is the main assembly of the Land and Water; with one seven following the seven sevens, it will do. You and I shall mingle among the crowd of people: first, to see how that assembly of his goes; second, to see whether the Golden Cicada has the fortune to wear my treasures; and third, to hear which school of scriptural law he expounds.”
The two then made their way into the temple. It was truly a case of: by affinity, coming to meet an old acquaintance; prajna returning to its original ritual-site. Entering the temple to look about, it was indeed thus:
A Heavenly Court, a great nation — truly it surpasses the Saha world.
It outdoes the Jetavana of Sravasti, and yields nothing to the lofty temples and monasteries.
That strain of immortal music rings clear; the Buddha's name resounds in clamor.
This Bodhisattva came right up to the side of the Jeweled Platform, and there indeed was the aspect of the wise Golden Cicada. The poem says:
All phenomena clear and bright, without a mote of dust;
at the great rite, Xuanzang sits upon the high platform.
Orphaned souls seeking rebirth arrive unseen in the dark;
lofty spirits come to hear the Law, up from the marketplace.
Giving things as the occasion requires, the mind's road runs far;
bringing forth life at will, the storehouse-gate stands open.
Facing all, he expounds the measureless Law;
old and young, every one, opens a joyful heart.
And another poem says:
Roaming the dharma-realm, within the lecture-hall,
she met one who knew her, no common fellow.
Fully she told of a myriad present things,
and spoke too of the merit of dusty kalpas.
The dharma-cloud, trailing loose, unfurls over the ranged peaks;
the teaching-net, spread wide, fills the vast void.
Reckoning up human life, it turns to thoughts of good;
profuse, the heavens rain down red falling flowers.
That Dharma Master, upon the platform, recited a while from the Sutra of Receiving Life and Delivering the Dead, expounded a while from the Seal-Script of Securing the Realm, and proclaimed a while from the Scroll of Exhortation to Cultivation. This Bodhisattva came up close, slapped the treasure-platform, and cried out in a stern voice: “Monk! You know only how to expound the teaching of the Lesser Vehicle. Can you expound the Greater Vehicle?”
When Xuanzang heard this, his heart leapt with joy; he turned and sprang down from the platform, and raising his hands to the Bodhisattva said: “Venerable teacher, your disciple failed to see you — many are my faults. All the host of monks here before you expound the teaching of the Lesser Vehicle; but I do not know how the teaching of the Greater Vehicle goes.”
“This Lesser Vehicle teaching of yours cannot deliver the dead to ascend,” said the Bodhisattva; “it can only muddle along with the world and dim its own light. I have the Greater Vehicle Buddha-dharma of the Three Baskets, which can raise the dead to heaven, deliver those in tribulation from suffering, cultivate a body of measureless life, and work comings and goings that neither come nor go.”
Even as he was expounding, an incense-officer on hall-patrol hurriedly reported to the Tang king: “The Master was just expounding the wondrous Law when two scabby wandering monks pulled him down and are talking wild nonsense.” The king ordered them seized. Many men came shoving and hauling the two monks into the rear dharma-hall; and seeing Taizong, those monks neither raised their hands nor bowed, but looking up said: “What does Your Majesty ask of us?”
The Tang king, recognizing him, said: “Are you not the monk who presented the cassock the other day?”
“The very one.”
“Since you came here to hear the exposition, you had only to eat some of the vegetarian fare and be done; why do you quarrel with my Master, disturb the scripture-hall, and spoil my Buddhist service?”
“That Master of yours expounds the teaching of the Lesser Vehicle, which cannot deliver the dead to ascend to heaven. I have the Greater Vehicle Buddha-dharma of the Three Baskets, which can deliver the dead and free them from suffering, and make the lifespan-body imperishable.”
Taizong, with a grave countenance, gladly asked: “Where is this Greater Vehicle Buddha-dharma of yours?”
“It is in the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the land of India, in the Great Western Heaven, at the place of my Buddha the Tathagata; it can loose the knot of a hundred grievances and dispel unforeseen calamity.”
“Can you remember it?”
“I remember it.”
Taizong said with great joy: “Have the Master lead you up — please ascend the platform and expound.”
That Bodhisattva, taking Moksha with her, flew up onto the high platform, then trod upon the auspicious clouds, rose straight to the ninth heaven, and revealed her true form as the Reliever of Suffering, holding aloft the pure vase and the willow-sprig. On her left was Moksha Huian, gripping his staff, his spirit alert and keen.
So delighted was the Tang king that he worshipped toward heaven, and all his civil and military officers knelt to the ground and offered incense. Throughout the temple, monks and nuns, Daoists and laity, scholars, artisans, and merchants — there was not one who did not bow and pray, saying: “Blessed Bodhisattva! Blessed Bodhisattva!” There is a hymn in proof. Behold:
Auspicious haze scatters in profusion; sacred light guards the dharma-body.
In the ninth heaven's splendid firmament, she reveals herself, a true woman-immortal.
That Bodhisattva: upon her head she wears a pendant-pearl chaplet —
clasped with gold leaf, spread with kingfisher blooms, casting a golden light and breeding an auspicious vapor;
upon her body she wears a plain blue robe of woven silk, pale of hue and lightly adorned,
coiled with golden dragons and soaring with colored phoenixes;
at her breast hangs a fragrant jeweled pendant, facing the bright moon and dancing in the pure breeze,
set with mingled precious pearls and gathered kingfisher-jade;
at her waist she binds an embroidered woolen skirt of ice-silkworm thread, its border woven with gold,
mounting the colored clouds and hastening over the jasper sea;
and before her she leads a white parrot with yellow down and red beak,
that flies the Eastern Ocean, roams the whole world, and, mindful of kindness, practices filial duty.
In her hand she holds up a precious vase that bestows grace and succors the world;
and in the vase is set a drooping willow-sprig that sprinkles the blue empyrean,
scatters great evil, and sweeps away the lingering mist.
Jade rings run through embroidered clasps; golden lotuses sink deep beneath her feet.
Through the Three Heavens she is granted passage.
This, indeed, is Guanshiyin, who relieves suffering and delivers from calamity.
So delighted was Tang Taizong that he forgot his realm; so enraptured were the civil and military officers that they lost their court-decorum; and the whole multitude chanted, “Namo Guanshiyin Bodhisattva.” Taizong at once issued a command, having a skilled painter sketch down the true image of the Bodhisattva; and at the word of command, they chose out Wu Daozi, a painter of gods and sages, of far sight and high skill — this was the man who later painted the meritorious ministers in the Lingyan Pavilion.
At once he spread out his marvelous brush and painted her true form. That Bodhisattva's auspicious clouds gradually receded, and in an instant the golden light was seen no more. There was only seen, whirling down from mid-air, a slip of paper, on which were a few lines of gatha, written out plainly. The gatha said:
In homage to the lord of Great Tang: in the West there is a wondrous text.
The road is a hundred and eight thousand li; the Greater Vehicle advances with earnest zeal.
Let this scripture return to your high land, and it can raise the ghosts and lift them from the throng.
If there be one willing to go, let him seek the true fruit and the golden body.
When Taizong had read the gatha, he at once commanded the host of monks: “Let the assembly be closed for now; wait until I dispatch someone to fetch the Greater Vehicle scriptures, and then, with renewed sincerity, we shall cultivate the good work again.” Not one of the officers but complied. Then, there in the temple, he asked: “Who is willing to receive my command, to go up to the Western Heaven, worship the Buddha, and seek the scriptures?”
Before the asking was done, a Dharma Master stepped forth from the side, made obeisance before the emperor, and said: “Your poor monk, though of no talent, is willing to render the service of a dog or horse — to seek and fetch the true scriptures for Your Majesty, and to pray that our king's realm may stand forever firm.”
The Tang king, greatly pleased, came forward and with his imperial hand raised him up. “If the Master can indeed fulfill this loyal worthiness, undaunted by the long road and the toil of mountain and river, I am willing to become sworn brothers with you.”
Xuanzang knocked his head in thanks for the grace. The Tang king was indeed most worthy and virtuous: he went there before the Buddha in the temple, made four bows with Xuanzang, and called him Imperial Brother, Holy Monk.
Xuanzang, thanking him without end, said: “Your Majesty, what virtue or ability has your poor monk, that he should dare receive such heavenly grace and favor? This journey of mine — I am resolved to give my very body and strive with all my might, straight to the Western Heaven; and if I do not reach the Western Heaven, or fail to obtain the true scriptures, then even in death I dare not return to my country, but shall fall forever into the hell of perdition.” And there before the Buddha he offered incense, taking this as his oath.
The Tang king was greatly pleased, and at once ordered the imperial carriage to return, to await the choosing of a fair and auspicious day when the travel-document would be issued and the journey begun; and thereupon the carriage returned and all dispersed.
Xuanzang, too, returned to the Hongfu Temple. The many monks of that temple and several of his disciples, having already heard of the scripture-seeking, all came to see him, and asked: “Is it true that you have sworn a vow to go up to the Western Heaven?”
“It is true.”
“Master — we have often heard it said that the road to the Western Heaven is long, and full besides of tigers and leopards, of demons and monsters. We fear only that you will go and not return, and that your life cannot be preserved.”
“I have already sworn a great and solemn vow: that if I do not fetch the true scriptures, I shall fall forever into the hell of perdition. In the main, having received the king's grace and favor, I cannot but exhaust my loyalty to repay the state. This journey of mine is truly vast and uncertain, and whether it ends in fortune or in ill is hard to say.” And he said: “My disciples, after I have gone — it may be two or three years, it may be five or seven — only watch the pine-branch within the temple gate: when its tips turn to the east, I shall be coming back; if not, then I shall surely not return.”
The disciples earnestly took his words to heart.
Early the next morning, Taizong held court and gathered his civil and military officers; the scripture-seeking rescript was written out, and the precious seal of free passage was affixed. The Directorate of Astronomy reported: “Today falls under the auspicious star of the Honored Man, fit for setting out on a distant road.” The Tang king was greatly pleased.
Then the gate-officer reported: “The Imperial Brother, the Dharma Master, awaits your command outside the court gate.” He was straightway summoned up to the treasure-hall, and the king said: “Imperial Brother, today is an auspicious day for setting out. Here is the passport for the barriers. I have also a purple-gold alms-bowl, which I give you to beg your food along the way; and I have chosen two attendants for the long journey. And I bestow upon you a horse, given as your strength for the far road. You may set out upon your journey at once.”
Xuanzang, greatly pleased, thanked him for the grace, received the things, and showed not the least wish to linger. The Tang king ordered his carriage and, with his many officers, escorted him out beyond the barrier. There the monks of the Hongfu Temple and his disciples had brought Xuanzang's winter and summer garments, and had them waiting outside the barrier. When the Tang king saw them, he first had the baggage and horse made ready, and then had an officer take up the flask and pour wine.
Taizong raised the cup and asked: “What is the Imperial Brother's elegant style-name?”
“Your poor monk is one who has left the household; I have not presumed to take a style-name.”
“The Bodhisattva said just now that in the Western Heaven there are scriptures in Three Baskets. The Imperial Brother might take his name from the scriptures — what if you were styled ‘Tripitaka’?”
Xuanzang thanked him again, and taking the imperial wine said: “Your Majesty, wine is the very first prohibition of the monk's house; since I became a man, I have never drunk wine.”
“Today's journey is unlike other matters; this is but a plain wine — drink only this one cup, to fulfill my wish to speed you on your way.”
Tripitaka dared not refuse; he took the wine and was just about to drink, when he saw Taizong bend down, pinch up a bit of dust with his imperial fingers, and flick it into the cup. Tripitaka did not understand his meaning, and Taizong smiled and said: “Imperial Brother — this journey to the Western Heaven, when will you return?”
“In but three years I shall come straight back to the high land.”
“The days will be long and the years deep, the mountains far and the road distant. Let the Imperial Brother drink this wine, and: better to cherish one pinch of your native soil than to love ten thousand taels of another land's gold.”
Then Tripitaka grasped the meaning of the pinched dust, and thanking him again, drank the cup dry, took his leave, and went out beyond the barrier. The Tang king's carriage returned.
In the end, we do not yet know how this going will turn out; listen to the next chapter, and it will be explained.