Canonical Classics ← 第九十三回
第九十三回
yuánwèntányīn
tiānzhúguócháowángǒu

In the Garden of the Friendless They Ask of Old Days and Speak of Causes · In the Country of India He Attends the King and Meets a Mate

見無人,方才下拜
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字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

見無人,方才下拜 When No One Was Left

lǎosēngjiànwènmìngzhòngsēngxiānhuíjiānchájiànrénfāngcáiduìtángsēngxíngzhěxiàbàisānzàngchāndào:「lǎoyuànzhǔwèixíng?」lǎosēngdào:「niánsuìbǎilüètōngrénshìměichánjìngzhījiāncéngjiànguòfānjǐngxiàngruòlǎoshīliáozhīèrréntóngruòyánbēiqièzhīshìfēizhèwèishījiāmíngbiànde。」xíngzhědào:「qiěshuōshìshènshì?」lǎosēngdào:「jiùniánjīnzhèngmíngxìngyuèzhīshíwénzhènfēngxiǎngjiùyǒubēiyuànzhīshēnglǎosēngjiànwènmìngzhòngsēngxiānhuíjiānchájiànrénfāngcáiduìtángsēngxíngzhěxiàbàisānzàngchāndào:「lǎoyuànzhǔwèixíng?」lǎosēngdào:「niánsuìbǎilüètōngrénshìměichánjìngzhījiāncéngjiànguòfānjǐngxiàngruòlǎoshīliáozhīèrréntóngruòyánbēiqièzhīshìfēizhèwèishījiāmíngbiànde。」xíngzhědào:「qiěshuōshìshènshì?」lǎosēngdào:「jiùniánjīnzhèngmíngxìngyuèzhīshíwénzhènfēngxiǎngjiùyǒubēiyuànzhīshēng


逐句解 Line by line

lǎosēngjiànwènmìngzhòngsēngxiānhuíjiānchájiànrénfāngcáiduìtángsēngxíngzhěxiàbài lǎosēngjiànwènmìngzhòngsēngxiānhuíjiānchájiànrénfāngcáiduìtángsēngxíngzhěxiàbài

The old monk, hearing the question, at once told the other monks to go back first and make tea. Seeing that no one was left, only then did he bow down before the Tang Monk and Pilgrim.

Two sentences, and the whole shape of the confession is set. He clears the courtyard on a pretext, waits until they are alone, and then kneels. Whatever is coming, none of his own monks may hear it.

煎茶 — make tea — is the oldest errand in the world for getting people out of a room.

方才 — only then. The narrator marks the sequence carefully: he does not bow until he has checked. This is a man who has thought about how to do this.

sānzàngchāndào:「lǎoyuànzhǔwèixíng?」lǎosēngdào:「niánsuìbǎilüètōngrénshìměichánjìngzhījiāncéngjiànguòfānjǐngxiàng sānzàngchāndào:「lǎoyuànzhǔwèixíng?」lǎosēngdào:「niánsuìbǎilüètōngrénshìměichánjìngzhījiāncéngjiànguòfānjǐngxiàng

Tripitaka helped him up and said, "Reverend abbot, why do you make such a bow?" The old monk said, "Your disciple is over a hundred years old and understands human affairs a little, and in the stillness of meditation I have seen a thing or two."

弟子 — your disciple. A monk of a hundred and five calls himself the disciple of a man of forty-five, which in a monastery is not a slip: he is putting himself below Tripitaka before he asks for anything.

⚠ The base reading system splits this word against itself in this chapter, giving one of the five occurrences a light second syllable and four the full tone. Same word, same speaker, same page.

禪靜 — the stillness of meditation. He is claiming a mild sort of second sight and being careful not to claim much.

ruòlǎoshīliáozhīèrréntóngruòyánbēiqièzhīshìfēizhèwèishījiāmíngbiànde。」 ruòlǎoshīliáozhīèrréntóngruòyánbēiqièzhīshìfēizhèwèishījiāmíngbiànde。」

"As for your worship and his disciples, your disciple knows a little of the matter, and it is not as with other people. But if I speak of this grievous business, none but this master here can tell true from false."

He has recognised them — or says he has — and the flattery is doing work. He needs Pilgrim specifically, and he is establishing before he asks that he knows what Pilgrim is.

明辨不得 — cannot be told apart. Here the linking character joins the telling to the failing, so the whole phrase means the distinguishing cannot be brought off. It is not the same word as the one that means to obtain, though it is written the same way, and the chapter uses both senses within a few lines.

這位師家 — this master here. He means Pilgrim, and it is the first time in the chapter anyone has addressed the monkey as an authority.

xíngzhědào:「qiěshuōshìshènshì?」lǎosēngdào:「jiùniánjīnzhèngmíngxìngyuèzhīshíwénzhènfēngxiǎngjiùyǒubēiyuànzhīshēng xíngzhědào:「qiěshuōshìshènshì?」lǎosēngdào:「jiùniánjīnzhèngmíngxìngyuèzhīshíwénzhènfēngxiǎngjiùyǒubēiyuànzhīshēng

Pilgrim said, "Say on — what is the matter?" The old monk said, "This day last year, when your disciple was in the clear-minded moon of meditation, I suddenly heard a gust of wind, and there was a sound of grief and complaint."

舊年今日 — this day last year. Exactly a year, to the day, and he has said nothing in all that time. The chapter has been at pains to establish that tonight is the first night anyone has come from far enough away to be told.

明性月 — the moon of clear nature — folds the moon he was watching into the mind that was watching it, which is standard meditation vocabulary and also simply true: he was sitting outside at night.

Pilgrim's four words are the bluntest thing said in the chapter so far. Everyone else has been circling for two pages.


總評 Commentary

This passage is almost entirely manners, and every piece of the manners is doing something. The old monk sends his own community away on an errand. He waits until they are gone. He bows to a man forty years his junior. He calls himself a disciple. He praises Pilgrim before asking anything of him. None of it is decoration — it is a man who has rehearsed this.

What he is about to say will make sense of it. He has kept a young woman locked in an outbuilding for a year, told his monks she is a demon, and fed her twice a day through a hole in a door. He believes he has been protecting her. He also knows exactly how it looks, which is why the courtyard had to be emptied first.

And there is a smaller thing worth noticing. He asks for Pilgrim, not for Tripitaka. The holy man is the one who wept at the sound of the crying; the monkey is the one who can tell what the crying is. The old monk has read the party correctly within about ten minutes of meeting them.