Fictions of Enlightenment: Journey to the West, Tower of Myriad Mirrors, and Dream of the Red Chamber 9780824844547

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F I C T I O N S OF E N L I G H T E N M E N T

Fictions of Enlightenment Journey to the West, Tower of Myriad Mirrors, and Dream of the Red Chamber

QIANCHENG L I

University of Hawai'i Press Honolulu

© 2004 University of Hawai'i Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 09 08 07 06 05 04 654321

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Li, Qiancheng. Fictions of enlightenment ¡Journey to the west, Tower of myriad mirrors, and Dream of the red chamber / Qiancheng Li. p. cm. Thesis (Ph.D.)—Washington University, 1999. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8248-2597-7 (alk. paper) 1. Dong, Yue, 1620-1686. Xi you bu. 2. Wu, Cheng'en, ca. 1500-ca. 1582. Xi you ji. 3. Cao, Xueqin, ca. 1717-1763. Hong lou meng. 4. Buddhism in literature. I. Tide. PL2698.T83 H7372003 8o9'.933822943—dc2i 2003010138 University of Hawai'i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources.

Designed by inari Printed by The Maple-Vail Book Manufacturing Group

Contents

Acknowledgments

vii

A Note on Conventions

ix

Abbreviations

xi

Prologue

1

CHAPTER I

Setting the Terms

6

CHAPTER 2

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

21

CHAPTER 3

The Journey

49

CHAPTER 4

The Dream

90

CHAPTER 5

The "Red Chamber"

110

Epilogue

165

Notes

173 209

Glossary Bibliography

217

Index

243

V

Acknowledgments

A scholar's life is like a journey, one that entails challenges, surprises, and rewards. T h e journey is impossible—and incomplete—without guides, companions, and hospitalities, with which I am abundantly blessed, and for which this is but a meager tribute. This book grew out of the dissertation that I finished in 1998 at Washington University, St. Louis. In my studies I have been wrestling with some recurring patterns; the writing of this dissertation has brought them into focus. T o Professor Robert E. Hegel, my mentor, I owe more than words can adequately convey. His scholarship and humaneness I can only hope to emulate. His many questions have lent direction to my research. It is my good fortune to be under his guidance. I am grateful to Professors Beata Grant and Robert K. Weninger, who also directed the research and writing of the dissertation, and to Professors Joseph R. Allen, David Hadas, Erin S. Mackie, and the late William H. Matheson, who were involved with it in its various incarnations. I am greatly indebted to Professors Martin W . Huang and David L. Rolston for their invaluable guidance and support. I am endlessly grateful to my colleague, Professor John B. Henderson, who read the manuscript and offered many insightful suggestions and criticisms. I have benefited much from the editorial help of Ilene Cohen. Needless to say, I alone am responsible for any errors and inaccuracies that remain. I am particularly grateful to two anonymous readers for the University of Hawai'i Press for their careful perusal and appraisal of the manuscript; their criticisms and comments have clarified my thinking on many issues and have saved me from many pitfalls. I am deeply grateful to Pamela Kelley for her enthusiasm, professionalism, and expert help; working with her has been a blessing. I am grateful to Jenn Harada and Cheri Dunn for

Vll

VLLL

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

their involvement in bringing the book to print and for their timely help. I am indebted to Susan Biggs Corrado for her editorial expertise—her copyediting has made the final stage a pleasure. Finally, I thank my wife, Lan, for her loving support and understanding, and our son, Samuel, for thejoy, wonder, and change he has brought to our lives.

A Note on Conventions

I have used the pinyin system throughout, which necessitates changing the Wade-Giles romanizations in Anthony C. Yu's translation o f X i y o u j i and Shuenfu Lin and Larry F. Schulz's translation o f X i y o u bu silently. I have also omitted the hyphens in proper names in the David Hawkes and John Minford translation of Honglou meng. For the sake of consistency, the Wade-Giles romanizations in quoted translations are converted to pinyin, except in the titles of publications. For Buddhist scriptures, I give titles in Chinese, then the English translation and the Sanskrit form in parentheses, e.g., Huayanjing (Flower garland scripture, Avatamsaka sutra). For characters in the Buddhist scriptures and other nonChinese Buddhist figures, I use their names in Sanskrit or other forms followed by Chinese in parentheses, e.g., Sudhana (Shancai).

IX

Abbreviations

HLM

Cao Xueqin and Gao E. Honglou meng. 3 vols., continuous pagination. Beijing: Renmin wenxue, 1982. "HLM 87.1257," e.g., means chap. 87, p. 1257 of this edition.

HLMJ

Honglou mengjuan. Ed. Yisu. 2 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua, 1963.

JW

Wu Cheng'en. Journey to the West. Trans. Anthony C. Yu. 4 vols. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977-1983. "JWi:8i," e.g., means vol. 1, p. 81 of this version.

SS

Cao Xueqin and Gao E. The Story of the Stone. Trans. David Hawkes and John Minford. 5 vols. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1973-1986. "SS 4:363," e.g., means vol. 4, p. 363 of this translation.

T

Taisho shinshu Daizokyo. 1927. Tokyo: Taisho shinshu DaizSkyo kanko kai, i960. "7" 224/8:470," e.g., means no. 224 of this collection, vol. 8, p. 470.

TMM

Tung Yiieh (Dong Yue). The Tower ofMyriad Mirrors: A Supplement to Journey to the West. Trans. Shuen-fu Lin and Larry F. Schulz. Berkeley, Calif.: Asian Humanities Press, 1978. Only page numbers are given.

XYB

Dong Yue. Xiyou bu. Shanghai: Shanghai guji, 1983. Both chapter and page numbers are given: e.g., XYB 16.72.

XYJ

Wu Cheng'en. Xiyou ji. 1955. 3 vols., continuous pagination. Beijing: Renmin wenxue, 1981. Both chapter and page number are given: e.g., XYJ 58.750.

xi

ABBREVIATIONS

Xuzangjing.

150 vols. Taibei: Xinwenfeng, 1977. Originally published

as Dainihon zokuzokyo, 750 vols. Kyoto: Z5ky5 Shoin, 1905-1912. Huang Zhouxing, annot. and comment. Xiyou zhengdao shu. 2 vols. Beijing: Zhonghua, 1993. Both chapter and page number are given: e-g-, ZDS 58.485. Chen Qinghao (Chan Hing-ho), ed. Xinbian pingyujijiao.

Shitou ji

Zhiyanzhai

Enlarged ed. Beijing: Zhongguo Youyi, 1987. Both chap-

ter and page number are given.

F I C T I O N S OF E N L I G H T E N M E N T

Prologue

r

his book studies the bearing of the Buddhist quest for salvation, or enlightenment, on the vision, structure, and narrative form of three works of classic Chinese fiction, namely the Ming (1368-1644) masterpiece Xiyouji (Journey to the West), Xiyou bu (The tower of myriad mirrors), and Honglou meng (The dream of the red chamber).11 argue that in these works the plot, structure, mode of expression, and resolution of inner conflicts as they relate to the final denouement are determined, in various degrees, by Buddhist soteriology, in particular by the quest for enlightenment as defined by the Chinese Mahayana tradition. The plots of these novels are generally patterned after the narratives in certain well-known Mahayana sutras, and as such can be read as a series of "grand parablefs] of Buddhist quest and enlightenment," to quote Anthony C. Yu's self-conscious words in his criticism of Honglou meng2—selfconscious because the critic is acutely aware of other stances that seem to have ignored such an interpretive strategy altogether. Moreover, it is clear that the authors, by their manipulation of the texts, especially the metafictional discourse, intended their works to be read in this way: they persistently claimed that these works were equivalents to the scriptures. This technique culminates in the Qing (1644-1911) masterpiece Honglou meng. The methodology of this study is largely informed by theories of intertextuality.3 By this I mean the study of different texts from different periods and genres as they relate to one another, with the goal of understanding those configurations that have "generic" significance. Texts studied in this way yield a greater understanding than when read separately. The reference here is not to tenuous relationships, but rather to substantive structural ones that constitute an intertextual web in terms ofboth theme and rhetoric. "Intertextuality" in this study applies to 1

2

PROLOGUE

two fronts: first, a later text may shed light on its precursors, or the process may work in reverse, yielding ways of reading that move both forward and backward in time, as texts read together add new dimensions to one another and complement one another. In following how later authors rework earlier pieces and carry on what their precursors have produced, we find a more complex relationship among these authors than has generally been assumed. This is especially so in the case of what might be called "composite authorship"—authors, editors, and commentators who worked "in aggregate" on a single novel. A writer from one group may influence one from another on many different levels, including the personal, which justifies our studying them together.4 On a textual and thematic plane, this influence may operate at the level of vision and purport, not only at the level of episodes or motifs, making such influences difficult to detect. Second, texts from one genre may illuminate those from another (in our case novels and Buddhist scriptures). Comparing the works of different genres will set in high relief their common thematic and structural concerns. The novels under discussion can be more fruitfully studied in the often neglected context of the Buddhist pattern of salvation, which accentuates the dynamic of the plot and to a great extent determines their particular mode of expression. In the light of such Western theories on influence and intertextuality as that of Harold Bloom, the first concern can be dubbed "Freudian" because the textual traffic is between individual texts with their authors as agents. The second concern I would call "Jungian" because something else is at work, a common cultural milieu that shapes the poetics and aesthetics of these authors, a cultural given, regardless of authorial intentionality. My readings are conducted within these parameters. I am looking to see how these texts constellate and contribute, intertextually, to the fiction of enlightenment as a "genre" or subgenre and a narrative mode in traditional vernacular Chinese fiction, a tradition that depends on the Buddhist understanding of the relationship between reality and illusion, the religion's soteriological pattern, and intertextual practice. The result, I argue, is a marked degree of self-reflexivity in these works that points in two directions. First, it is directed to the experiences of the protagonists in search of salvation, voluntary or otherwise, which in turn lead them back to their selves, sometimes without their knowing it initially, partly because the soteriological pattern in Buddhism is essentially an epistemological one. And second, this self-reflexivity points to a self-consciousness on the part of these authors concerning the creation of "fictional truths." In other words, the authors are aware of the

Prologue

3

intricate relationship between truth and illusion and of the nature of knowledge, both of which are logical outgrowths of some basic Mahayana tenets they work with. This self-reflexivity is further enhanced by the authors' awareness of the achievements of their precursors. I concentrate in particular on Honglou meng: how it refers back to its predecessors and, conversely, how it illuminates them. There are, it seems, two tendencies among Chinese critics of Honglou meng. They have until recently been uneasy about acknowledging Cao Xueqin's literary debts and have regarded everything in the novel as unique, hence its towering stature in the Chinese narrative tradition.5 On the other hand, many critics emphasize the novel's relationship with Jin PingMei (Plum in a gold vase) and Shuihu zhuan (Water margin). Among traditional critics, Zhang Xinzhi's (fl. 1828-1850) comment (finished in 1850) seems balanced and relevant: "The Dream of the Red Chamber evolved from Journey to the West, trod the path of Jin Ping Mei, and drew its spirits from Shuihu zhuan"6 (HLMJ 1:154). The Chinese alchemical term the critic resorts to, "tuotai, "seems to signify a somewhat closer, more intrinsic relationship between Honglou meng and Xiyouji:7 the Ming work constitutes the embryo of the Qing masterpiece. Another commentator, styled Mengchi xueren, was more direct (this commentary was finished in 1888): "In terms of meaning Honglou meng is a wholesale imitation of Xiyouji, and its language is hence Zenlike: full of twists and turns, inversions and surprises, most fantastic, most difficult to understand fully" {HLMJ 1:219). It seems that the hints concerning the relationship between these works have generally gone unheeded, especially by critics of the last century. Although there have been some recent important studies in the light of intertextuality, including works by Mary Elizabeth Scott and Jing Wang,8 there is still little on the relationship between Honglou meng and Xiyouji. An exception is a seminal study by Zhou Cezong (Chow Tse-tsung) titled "Honglou meng yu Xiyou bu," which concentrates on the relationship between the two works in question. Anthony C. Yu also states, concerning one of Honglou meng's defining features—the exhaustive treatment of qing (passion, desire, attachment—that "[i]n the history of Chinese prose fiction, the most important antecedent might well have been Xiyoubu."9 Although this book draws on the insights of these scholars, it also differsfromthe earlier studies in that it is primarily an intertextual study of the three works as viewed through the lens of the Buddhist epistemic-soteriological models. This book is concerned with how the novelists translated such patterns into narrative structures and how such patterns determine the outcome of the plot in each work. This is an appropriate point at which to provide a working map for my study.

4

PROLOGUE

T o recapitulate, this book aims to reconsider the relationship of the vernacular fiction to Mahayana Buddhism in a "generic" way by means of an intertextual study of the works in question, both the interactions among themselves and those within the larger context of the religious milieu, in particular the scriptures. Chapter l considers the often neglected Buddhist milieu and some generic issues regarding these works. T h e first part of the chapter discusses the contradictions in the culture of late imperial China and the relationship between Buddhism and the literary landscape, in which our novelists lived and wrote. My argument is that what the novelists have inherited are not religious norms—they may not even be practicing Buddhists—but rather the philosophical background and a set of soteriological patterns that they use to literary purpose. T h e second part of the chapter discusses the generic implications of these works from a comparative perspective. Finally, I draw on these discussions to define the term "fiction of enlightenment." Chapter 2 discusses the Buddhist soteriological patterns and structures as exemplified in the life of the founder of the religion and the reenactments of such in the sutras, their variations or further evolutions and applications, their bearings on the deliverance play (a dramatic model), and the narrative structures that develop out of these patterns. T h e chapter begins with a review of speculation about the Buddhist impact on the Chinese novel and elaborates on how such discussions will become more meaningful when related to the narrative structure of representative works of the genre. Proceeding from this, I discuss one of Buddha's biographies popular in China and some sutras that reenact Buddha's life: the pilgrimages of Sadaprarudita (Satuobolun) and Sudhana (Shancai). This pattern is subjected to ironic revisions in Xiyouji. T h e development of Mahayana Buddhism, meanwhile, is characterized by a paradox, the embrace of this world manifested, so to speak, in the valorization of the provisional, an affirmation oflife in this world, the samsara. This becomes the philosophical basis oiXiyou bu and Honglou meng. In Chapter 21 also consider how Chinese drama draws on such patterns and, returning to works of fiction, the common settings for these dramas of enlightenment, a movement from the journey or pilgrimage to the family. T h e first two chapters set the cultural and literary contexts for these works, as well as present the prevalent Buddhist assumptions about reality and salvation. T h e y thus prepare us for in-depth discussions of specific novels. Chapter 3, on Xiyouji,

discusses the quest of Sun Wukong and Tripitaka,

their pilgrimage to the West, which is simultaneously a journey inward. After a consideration of the relationship between the sutra Ru fajie pin (Gandavyuha) and the novel, I discuss the abortivejourney of Sun Wukong, which is followed by

Prologue

5

that of Tripitaka. T o be emphasized is the dramatization ofwhat the author sees as the Great Way, that is, its expression and manifestation in samsara. This is followed by a consideration of some key issues in the interpretation of this novel: the tensions between two views of enlightenment (as represented by Sun Wukong and Tripitaka) and the nature of this journey. Is the journey necessary? Is it circular or linear? Is it real or illusory? Finally, I discuss the persistent and pervasive doubling devices, a logical outcome of the Buddhist preoccupation with the human mind. Chapter 4 serves as an interlude, a consideration oiXiyou bu that forms a link, an intermediary, between the two longer works. This chapter concentrates on the novelist's probing of human desires, a reorientation in face of the flight from such desires in the earlier novel; it discusses the author's evocation of the dream world in order to dramatize this point; and finally, it returns to the doubling devices, which in this book take on self-reflexive proportions. This leads in to Chapter 5, on Honglou meng, which focuses exclusively on the protagonistjia Baoyu, who to a degree embodies both Sun Wukong and Tripitaka. With Xiyou bu as an intermediary, the Qing masterpiece Honglou meng can be regarded as a deliberate contrast or an antithetical parallel to Xiyou ji. Emphasis will be given to the similar thematic concerns and structures that characterize these three works: how the patterns emerging from the past are adapted and revitalized, and how the protagonist reenacts the quest within a new context, that of an aristocratic family. In the process, however, such themes and structures are subverted; in the end, what appears—and promises—to be a work on detachment turns out instead to be a paean on attachment. T h e discussions culminate in a study of self-reflexivity on different planes, of the metafictional dimension of the novel, and of the manipulation of various discourses—all a logical outcome, albeit sometimes ironic and parodic, of their engagement with Buddhism. I will probe the authors' self-conscious creation of illusions, which are at the same time scriptures or "secular scriptures," a characteristic paradox of Buddhism as it developed in China. 10

CHAPTERI

Setting the Terms

B U D D H I S M AND THE S T U D Y OF THE C H I N E S E N O V E L

Studies of the Chinese novel have often been conducted within the framework of Confucianism or neo-Confucianism. 1 "Although these texts often draw upon Buddhist and Taoist imagery and terminology to one degree or another," writes Andrew H. Plaks, "I believe that by and large they yield the most meaningful interpretations when read within the context of the Neo-Confucian syncretism at the heart of late-Ming literati culture, especially with reference to the key issue of self-cultivation—or its negative transformation in the form of ego-gratification— which so exercised the thinkers of the time." 2 Indeed, these studies have unveiled much of the dynamics propelling this art form. I by no means intend to challenge or invalidate the studies drawn from neo-Confucian or other perspectives. While these works have not altogether discounted the presence of Buddhism in the Chinese novel, there are critics who believe that Buddhism has at best a tertiary significance in the development of the novel form. C. T . Hsia writes, "Of many big, sprawling Chinese novels, one can say that precisely because the structure is highly episodic, their authors felt the need to make use of an allegoric or religious framework to bind the episodes together." 3 Buddhism's role in these novels is not nearly as limited as is generally assumed; 4 it can be at least a complementary model in the study of classic Chinese fiction. Moreover, I hope this book may also contribute something to an "aesthetic raison d'être of the Chinese novel," a subject of study called for by Wai-Lim Yip,

6

Setting the Terms

7

Liao Chaoyang, and others. In his discussion of the use ofliterary "models," Yip writes, C. T. Hsia warns us not to approach the classic Chinese novel with the yardsticks of Flaubert and James, who demand "a consistent point-of-view, a unified impression of life as conceived and planned by a master intelligence, an individual style fully consonant with the author's emotional attitude toward his subject-matter" and who abhor "didacticism [and] authorial digression"— none of which seems to be diligendy observed by the Chinese novel. Again, this calls for a root study of the aesthetic raison d'être of the Chinese novel, a subject that is yet to be fully defined and explored.5 Liao voices a similar opinion and proposes Mahàyâna Buddhism as a basis for such considerations.6 And Victor Mair's study has already made the connection between Chinese works of fiction and Mahàyâna Buddhism. 7 Before we proceed in our discussion, which is informed by certain Mahàyâna concepts, we have to give general consideration to one of the basic contradictions in both theme and form found in late imperial China and its works of fiction. Here Richard Chase's characterization of the American novel, which offers an illuminating parallel to its Chinese counterpart, is pertinent: The imagination that has produced much of the best and most characteristic American fiction has been shaped by the contradictions and not by unities and harmonies of our culture. In a sense this may be true of all literatures of whatever time and space. Nevertheless there are some literatures that take their form and tone from polarities, opposites, and irreconcilables, but are content to rest in and sustain them, or to resolve them into unities, if at all, only by special and limited means. The American novel tends to rest in contradictions and among extreme ranges of experience. When it attempts to resolve contradictions, it does so in oblique, morally equivocal ways.8 This statement holds equally true for the classic Chinese novel. In the Chinese context, the contradiction is broadly between lunhui or jieyun (samsara), the headlong immersion in the flux of life and death on the one hand, and niepan,jietuo, or guizhen (nirvana, enlightenment, liberation, deliverance) on the other. It is between these polarities that the pendulum of Chinese culture perpetually swings. Speaking in bipolar terms, the former represents the deep-rooted, tenacious involvement in this life—social, political, or otherwise—centered around the family

8

CHAPTER I

and imperial politics, whereas the latter represents the equally powerful desire to transcend, sometimes renounce, all this by various means and a poignant sense of the futility and meaninglessness of all human endeavors. 9 Whatever efforts the traditional literati—the class that has defined Chinese culture—made to modify, unify, and synthesize these contradictory tendencies, this profound disparity, in both theory and real life, persisted. T h e early suppressors of the imported religion of Buddhism certainly sensed its potential to subvert Confucian values. If we regard Confucianism as centripetal, the Buddhist drive may be considered centrifugal. It seems that the tension was greatest during the flourishing of the novel genre in late imperial China, although the relationship between samsara and nirvana is more complicated, even paradoxical. T h e picture of the Chinese world in fictional works is usually both politically and socially grim, exposing the inadequacies and failures of Confucianism. As Robert E. Hegel points out, "There seems little reason to conclude, given the testimony of Ming-Qing vernacular fiction, that these writers perceived the Confucian way—in its original sense of moral order and social harmony—'prevailed' at any time whether in the past narrated in their historical fiction or in their own day." 10 In Xiyouji,

the Buddha speaks to the protagonist about China's moral

bankruptcy: Because of your size and fertile land, your prosperity and population, there is a great deal of greed and killing, lust and lying, oppression and d e c e i t . . . . [Your people] are disloyal and unfilial, unrighteous and unkind, unscrupulous and self-deceiving. T h r o u g h all manners of injustice and taking of lives, they have committed boundless transgressions.... T h o u g h Confucius has prompted his teachings of benevolence, righteousness, ritual, and wisdom, and though a secession of kings and emperors had established such penalties as banishment, hanging, and beheading, these institutions had little effect on the foolish and the blind, the reckless, and the antinomian. (XYJ 98.1234-

i235;7^4:387-388) Thus, it is often the un-Confucian, Buddhist worldview that informs the meaning of these works, overriding all other value systems that might conflict with it; it helps to frame or to give form and structure to all the story elements and resolve the conflicts inherent in the plot. This contradiction between the two worldviews may be found even in commentary editions of Sanguo yanyi (The three kingdoms; earliest edition dated 1522, revised during Ming and Qing), a historical novel about the rise and fall of several houses that lay claim to the Chinese throne.

Setting the Terms

9

It is a typical work expounding Confucian aspirations and values, but the poem affixed by the editor Mao Zonggang (fl. 1660) to the beginning puts the historical events in a larger perspective, thereby highlighting the futility and meaninglessness of these endeavors and undermining the Confucian aspirations. 11 T h e Zhang Zhupo (1670-1698) commentary edition ofJin Ping Mei (preface 1695) accentuates the atmosphere of nothingness. Also relevant is the ending of Kong Shangren's (1648-1718) Taohua shan (Peach blossom fan, 1699). Hence one finds that in many Chinese novels, the outcome of the plot, the narration, the frame, and the metafictional discourse tend to subvert and negate the value system manifested in the story proper. Toward the late imperial period, one detects a growing frustration and tedium with the Confucian enterprise, itself partly a result of the failure, the moral bankruptcy, the final collapse of the Ming dynasty, the Manchu conquest, and the existential anxiety felt by many literati. As Martin W . Huang writes concerning one aspect of the ideological background of the seventeenth century— the failure of Confucianism to explain what was happening in the society—and its impact on writers of fiction, many of them "turned to the doctrines of popular religion for philosophical support to their interpretative framework in terms of explaining a world which was apparendy dominated by evil forces. T h e theory of karma from popular Buddhism became a convenient but important source." 12 Many of the Ming-Qing novelists or those preoccupied with the editing and commenting of these novels, at least those we are concerned with, are troubled souls; just consider the lives of Huang Zhouxing and Dong Yue. 1 3 T o many of them, even the Confucian or the Taoist practice of seclusion and escape did not suffice. Nor did the literati's idealistic pastoralism, merged as it was in nature, with impractical, nonpolitical, literary occupations and liberal ideals. As we will see in the course of this study, Jia Baoyu, the protagonist ot Honglou meng who embodies Ming unorthodoxy (or heresy) and liberalism, leads exacdy such a life, but this life turns out ultimately to be unsatisfactory and is finally renounced. Many novelists, it seems, found themselves more at home with Buddhism, because it gave them a way to transcend this world and filled up the religious vacuum left by Confucianism. They must surely have agreed with the words of the Tang monk Daoshi (?683): "When young I studied the canon of Confucius and Duke of Zhou; when old I admired the mysterious teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. Neither school can help one ferry across the river of suffering (kuhe); they still agonize in the burning house (huozhai). What is lasting and all-inclusive must be the teachings of the Buddha." 14 T h e river of suffering and the burning house are both Buddhist metaphors for the phenomenal world. It helps to bear in mind that all of

10

CHAPTER I

Tripitaka's disciples, including Sun Wukong, renounced Taoism in favor of Buddhism, and it is frequently stressed that only the Buddha's power is limidess and supreme, encompassing the entire universe. Moreover, consider the two transcendental figures in Honglou meng, Mangmang dashi (Impervioso) the Buddhist, and Miaomiao zhenren (Mysterioso) the Taoist. T h e latter simply acts like the disciple of the former, having an infinite number of naive questions in need of the Buddhist's elucidation. When Jia Baoyu finally renounces the world, it is to become a Buddhist monk. In this respect it is interesting to consider T u Long's (1541-1605) once famous and influential Tankua ji (Story of a night-blooming cereus), in which the protagonist searches for salvation with the help of two sages, one Taoist and one Buddhist. After visiting the Taoist abode of immortals, he finally embraces the Buddhist Western Paradise as his refuge. T h e Buddhist arhat Pindola Bharadvaja (Bintoulu zhunzhe) tells him that the Western Paradise is even better than the Taoist abode of immortals (scene 48).15 After a visit there, the Buddhist mahasattva asserts, one cannot help but renounce Taoism in favor of Buddhism (scene 50). 16 T h e upsurge of interest in Buddhism, corresponding to the waning faith in Confucianism, played an important part in shaping the literary landscape as well as its political, social, and philosophical counterparts. 17 Indeed, as Huang Zhuoyue has convincingly demonstrated, Buddhism was one of the forces defining the late Ming literary scene.18 Among writers and poets of that period, many immersed themselves in the study and practice of Buddhism. Huang observes that nearly all late Ming literati who forged their own style had recourse to Buddhism one way or another. 19 T h e literature of this period, perhaps one of the most active periods in Chinese literary history, reveals a time of much metaphysical speculation, although the products are of uneven quality. Among our authors, Dong Yue finally became a monk, having learned Buddhist sutras before he began to read Confucian classics. And the interest in Buddhism by no means abated during the Qing period. Thus, the observations about the late Ming literary scene could easily be extended to include Cao Xueqin and a host of other Qing writers. Cao Xueqin could have perused part of the monumental Dazangjing (Tripitaka; the tripartite Buddhist canon in Chinese) in his grandfather's collection, which included Zhengzang (Central collections) in 212 cases, 1,448 volumes; Xuzang (Supplementary collections I) in 94 cases, 653 volumes; and Youxuzang (Supplementary collections II) in 42 cases, 367 volumes.20 However, such external evidence is only tangential to this study. T h e texts of these novels speak for themselves, betraying a wide-ranging familiarity with Buddhist sutras, doctrines, histories, and legends.

Setting the Terms

11

T h e literacy in sutras, however, is only one criterion forjudging the authors' familiarity with Buddhism. In the study of literary works, we have to give consideration to other channels. Liang Qichao (1873-1929), a thinker in his own right, seems to have suggested another dimension to the Buddhist influence—the working of the archetype or the deep structure.21 Thus, writers do not necessarily have to be well versed in the sutras or be Buddhists to be susceptible to the influence of the religion. It could be, in Liang's words, the working of the "collective karma" (gongye), a concept not unlike Jung's collective unconscious. He made this remark to forestall possible objections to his arguments on the grounds that these writers' erudition in Buddhism was questionable; just consider, for example, Lu Xun's (1881-1936) dismissal oiXiyouji's

Buddhist intimations on this ground. 22 Liang's

statement suggests that the issue of influence, or which book is derivative of which, is not as important as the similar structure they all manifest and share. As a result of the Buddhist impact, many of the Chinese narrative works of this period reveal a second contradiction that is closely related to the contradictions in values we have just discussed. All students of the genre have noticed the polarization, in both theme and mode of expression, between the mythopoetic, the oneiric, the religious, the supernatural, and the fantastic on the one hand, and the "realistic," the social, the quotidian, the mundane, and the political on the other. W e can say that the unrealistic and fantastic mode of expression corresponds to the Buddhist worldview as manifested and developed in late imperial China—a worldview that subverts the Confucian orthodoxy as represented, in a way, by the political and the "realistic." Before proceeding, a disclaimer is in order: while this book emphasizes Buddhist intimations, one must bear in mind that the works at hand are primarily works of fiction and, moreover, that their authors were not primarily Buddhists. Indeed, their involvement with Buddhism was not connected to doctrine or orthodoxy; rather, their engagement was based on their own interpretations and personal concerns—metaphysical, artistic, or otherwise. T h e works betray a characteristic amateurishness and playfulness, perhaps corresponding to the tradition of lay Buddhism and the somewhat iconoclastic school of Zen. Araki Kengo's characterization of one aspect of late Ming Buddhism is relevant: the new type of Buddhism "had almost as many forms as it had believers," 23 and we can perhaps add that among the novelists the diversity is even more pronounced. Nevertheless, these works evidence a marked sophistication or, to borrow Liu Ts'un-yan's words in his analysis ofFengshenyanyi (Investure of gods), the presence of a "philosophical background": "It was not [merely] the kind of story-tellers' manuscript in

12

CHAPTER I

which alien materials were accepted, transplanted and retold... without the ability of assimilation."24 The mature novelists, then, inherited a philosophy and basic archetypal soteriological patterns, which they filtered through their own critical faculties and recast with the characters of their own creation or adaptation. They even created their own myths, freely incorporating elements from other religious and philosophical teachings. At the same time, they have a very low opinion of organized religion, as few professional religious figures escape their biting satire. In Xiyouji, for example, Sun Wukong is almost never respectful to general practitioners or even transcendental figures of religions. In Honglou meng, Jia Baoyu is notoriously blasphemous of Buddhist monks and Taoist priests (hui seng bang dao).25 Yet it is these characters who finally attain salvation: paradoxical, ironical, but typical of the Buddhist thinking as developed in China. Moreover, we see that over time the works become less and less dependent on Buddhism for motifs and episodes, even as the religion's basic soteriological structure is maintained. In Honglou meng the two supernatural figures that hover in that universe are no longer familiar Buddhist and Taoist figures, but rather the author's own creation. So is the Land oflllusion. By now it should be clear that the focus here is not one religion at the doctrinal level or Mahayana Buddhism as it was/is. Rather, the sphere of interest is at the convergence of religion and the art offiction,where the components of the religion are relevant to the understanding of Chinese vernacular fiction. Nor is it suggested that the novels under discussion are expositions of a particular sect or doctrine per se. The purpose is to demonstrate how this religious system, with its doctrines and soteriological patterns and structures, shapes literary sensibilities and yields meanings on a different level when they are read intertextually and considered in the light of this system. Thus, unlike traditional critics of these works, who tend to read them as nothing less than a representation of certain doctrines or social reality, I regard them as primarily literary endeavors, in which religious patterns contribute to a richer execution and appreciation.

SOME GENERIC

CONSIDERATIONS

In the studies by twentieth-century scholars, the above issues related to Buddhism have not been adequately dealt with. In the case of Honglou meng, many critics writing in Chinese are embarrassed by Cao Xueqin's use of the supernatural and the fantastic, including his use of the doubling device. They note such ele-

Setting the Terms

13

ments apologetically or dismiss them as irrelevant. Ying Bicheng, for instance, suggests that Cao Xueqin might as well have deleted the beginning and ending portions of the book, the parts about the Land of Illusion. 26 As for the episodes concerning the figure Zhen Baoyu, Jia Baoyu's double, even Y u Pingbo writes that they should all have been deleted, arguing that they are completely superfluous (wenzhang de zhuiyou), meaningless, and uninteresting. 27 Another critic, Chen Zhao, considers the character as Cao Xueqin's lapse (baibi).2s These statements are especially revealing in light of the paeans of praise heaped on Cao Xueqin—his work is considered to approach perfection. Yet the twentiethcentury critics simply have no patience for those aspects of the work that approach the fantastic and religious. Y u Pingbo shifts the blame onto Gao E, supposedly the author of the last forty chapters of the novel, despite the fact that Zhen Baoyu is mentioned in chapter 2, that Jia Baoyu dreams of him in chapter 56, and that the commentator emphasizes his role in the plot. T h e character would seem to be of Cao Xueqin's design. Concerning the critical works on this masterpiece, Anthony Y u comments, "[I]n a seemingly interminable effort to reconstruct the economic, social, intellectual, and cultural settings of the s t o r y , . . . " certain topics are hardly noticed. For a novel that has the word dream in one of its five titles (and arguably the most popular one in the modern era) and which has over twenty-two episodes on the oneiric experience, there are very few essays, let alone a monograph, that are devoted to this particular aspect. And, for a novel that displays all sorts of verbal allusions to the textual traditions of Chinese Taoism and Buddhism, that structures in the lengthy course of its story the appearances of many religious clerics (some of which decisively affecting the action like so many dei ex machina), and that purports to bring about the tale's denouement by having the protagonist leave his family to become a monk, there is again lacking any serious and sustained investigation into the novel's relation to its religious context. 29

David Hawkes, who translated Honglou meng into English, also notes that "none of [the critical works on the novel] takes much account of that element of the supernatural which is woven so tighdy into the texture of the novel. It has been neglected, treated as ornamentation, or as a series of frills and flourishes in dubious taste." 30 Concerning the critical works on Xiyouji,

Francisca C h o Bantly writes

that "despite the unequivocally Buddhist theme of the novel (the journey of five pilgrims to India for the purpose of obtaining Buddhist scriptures), scholastic

14

CHAPTERI

interpretations of the Journey have by and large avoided a serious and thoroughgoing Buddhist reading of its subject." 31 Anthony Yu, in the introduction to his translation of Xiyouji, also points out, "It is surprising... that the bulk of modern criticism has not made any serious investigation into the significance of the supramundane, the mythic, and, indeed, the religious themes and rhetoric that pervade the entire work." 32 These scholars have suggested other possible ways of interpreting the text. Concerning Honglou meng, Hawkes writes, "[T]he very insistence with which the author impresses it [the supernatural] upon his theme would seem to me, on the contrary, an indication that the supernatural is no gratuitous embellishment but rather an essential part of the novel."33 All these critics concur on the prevalence and significance of Buddhist elements in these works and deplore the lack of scholarly attention to them. This neglect becomes all the more disquieting when one considers the fact that traditional critics, too, have generally shied away from a Buddhist reading of the two works. Although they did touch upon these topics occasionally—often in pertinent, precise, and insightful ways—there does not seem to be a commentary edition that deals with such an interpretation consistendy and exclusively, despite their unmistakable references to that religious and scriptural tradition.34 There are, however, plausible reasons for the concentration of scholarly endeavors on the social and realistic aspects of the novels to the exclusion of religious elements. On the one hand, traditional Chinese society was based on secular concerns; on the other hand, formal or quotidian realism is one of the generic requirements of the novel, including the Chinese novel. For instance, Honglou meng has always been regarded as an encyclopedia of traditional Chinese society, accurate to the minutest detail. Commenting on this valorization of the realistic aspect ofHonglou meng, Lucien Miller writes: Dream of the Red Chamber is not a work of realistic fiction. Cao Xueqin's use of the supernatural and of improbable events reminds us that Hawthorne treats similar materials in hisfiction.Because of these materials, and because of an interest in the problem between the real and the ideal (an interest of the New England transcendentalists which Cao Xueqin would share), Hawthorne states in his Preface to The House of Seven Gables that he prefers to use the term "romance" rather than "novel" in describing his works. Using Hawthorne's example, we suggest that Dream of the Red Chamber might be more accurately identified as a romance. The point is that, as Henry Nash Smith has observed, "realistic" novels are created through the use of literary conven-

Setting the Terms

15

tions, as are "psychological" novels, "naturalistic" novels, "scientific" novels, "historical" novels, "philosophical" novels, "stream of consciousness" novels, and, for that matter, "romances." A "realistic" mode of writing is no more "true to life" than any other.35 Here Miller touches upon a significant issue, namely the need for a redefinition and modification of the generic, commonly accepted assumptions regarding Honglou meng. The resemblance between "romance" and Honglou meng that Miller notes serves as a starting point for our discussion, as discussions of the American novel can shed light on the generic features of the Chinese works in question. In the context of the critical discussions of the American novel, scholars like Richard Chase and Henry Nash Smith, among others, point out that the masterpieces of the New World are closer to romance than to the novel, defined as a realistic, descriptive genre, as represented by English masters. Works from the two countries on the opposite sides of the Atlantic are often contrasted. This is not to say that English literature did not produce any romances; far from it, as romance did develop there "alongside the novel," and the very distinction between "romance" and "novel" is an English contribution, for German and French writers and critics use the same designation—roman—for both.36 This demarcation has a long history. In Germany, as Eric A. Blackall points out, the arguments became clarified along with the reactions to Goethe's Wilhelm Meister, a contrast to the "'prose' depictiveness of eighteenth-century novels in general." The heightened sense of the genre "coincided with a revival ofinterest in Cervantes, in medieval romances, and in certain novelists—Sterne and the Diderot ofJacques lefataliste— who had penetrated deeper below the surface of everyday reality and allowed the novel to reflect on itself and emphasize its own fictiveness, breaking through a normal rational structure of time, place, and causality in the interest of greater truth." 37 As he further expounds: The basic distinction, as formulated by Scott, was that the romance depended on "marvelous and uncommon incidents" for its appeal, and could tolerate a looser structure than the novel. Indeed the structure was often developed in order to emphasize the marvelous and the unusual rather than the normal workings of causality. This meant that a whole realm of experience not easily accountable for by the workings of normal causality came into the novel.38 Let us take, for example, Nathaniel Hawthorne's (1804-1864) works, in particular The Marble Faun (i860), a typical romance. The theme of this novel bears

i6

CHAPTER I

a great resemblance to that of Honglou meng. It is a story about how the protagonist, Donatello, Count of Monte Beni, develops his humanity as he gains an awareness of evil and experiences the sufferings it inflicts, hence the tide of the edition published simultaneously in England, Transformation. Both are studies of how qualities considered negative in their respective religions—in Hawthorne's case, sin, in Cao's case, headlong immersion in the flux of life and death—educate the protagonist about the human condition and reality. As Kenyon, a character in Hawthorne's book, hinting at the theory o f f e l i x culpa, or the fortunate fell,39 says, "Sin is . . . like Sorrow, merely an element of human education through which we struggle to a higher and purer state than we could otherwise have attained. Did Adam fall, that we might ultimately rise to a far loftier paradise than his?" 40 The protagonist Donatello is a faunlike figure, not only in his handsome appearance, but also in his mysterious qualities: his ability to mingle with animals (he can almost summon them at will), his naive conscience, and his enjoyment of sensual pleasures. He seems to live within nature physically and psychologically—in Hawthorne's words, "just on the verge of nature, and yet within it."41 He carries such a spirit with him, "as mankind did in its innocent childhood; before sin, sorrow or morality itself had ever been thought of."42 He is attracted to Miriam, one of his artist friends, who in many ways is his opposite, his psychological foil: her soul is "apt to lurk in the darkness of a cavern." She is haunted by a mysterious past and is dogged by an equally mysterious man who serves as her model. Donatello throws the man down a precipice to put an end to Miriam's suffering but, as a result, finds himself overcome by remorse, his spirits poisoned, and his faunlike qualities gone. From this moment on, he is no longer a denizen of nature; animals no longer respond to him. Having experienced and understood sin, he has developed a conscience and moral reasoning. In the end, through "spiritual instruction that had come through sorrow and remorse," he has become "a man, resolving grave and deep thoughts in his heart." 43 Even his facial expression changes: "Donatello's face used to evince little more than a genial, pleasurable sort of vivacity, and capability of enjoyment. But here, a soul is being breathed into him; it is the Faun, but advancing towards a state of higher development." 44 In another plot line, Hilda, a pure-minded, angelic artist from New England, has unwittingly witnessed Donatello's crime and agonizes over it. She has experienced sin vicariously, and it has educated her. Completely transformed, she and her friend Kenyon return to New England. The Marble Faun offers many realistic portraits of Italian landscapes, rural and urban, for while in Italy, Hawthorne took great pains to record what he saw

Setting the Terms

17

in his notebooks so as to prepare for the writing of this novel. Nevertheless, the central theme precludes a narrow realistic reading, as there are far too many fantastic elements revolving around the protagonist. Henry James (1843-1916) makes noteworthy comments regarding the tension between the realistic and the fantastic in this novel. Hawthorne's work, he writes, has become "part of the intellectual equipment of the Anglo-Saxon visitor to Rome, and is read by every English-speaking traveler who arrives there, who has been there, who expects to go." 45 He acknowledges that in this novel Hawthorne "has attempted to deal with actualities more than he did in either of his earlier novels. He has described the streets of Rome with a closeness which forms no part of his preference to those of Boston and Salem." 46 Nonetheless, in James' view, the element of fantasy overpowers: " T h e fault of Transformation is that the element of unreal is pushed too far, and that the book is neither positively of one category nor of another. His 'moonshiny romance,' he calls it in a letter; and, in truth, the lunar element is a little too pervasive. T h e action waves between the streets of Rome, whose literal features the author perpetually sketches, and a vague realm of fancy, in which quite a different verisimilitude prevails." 47 These objections are familiar indeed to those engaged in the study of the Chinese novel; such remarks, in different contexts, are frequently directed against Cao Xueqin and other Chinese novelists whose works betray the same contradiction or dichotomy in both theme and rhetoric. A consideration of the characteristics, especially the contradictions in the American romance, helps to bring into high relief an important characteristic of the traditional Chinese fiction. Like their later American counterparts, these works are characterized by pervasive religious and philosophical tendencies and by a striking degree of sophistication in vision, structure, and rhetoric, one that is difficult to explain in terms of the realist scheme. At this juncture a generic consideration of the three works is in order. One temptation is to study them as allegories.48 Indeed, there are many allegorical elements in these works, corresponding to the philosophical and historical backgrounds of this intellectually exciting period—the appearance of works of such epic proportions should not be dismissed as accidental.49 However, with the possible exception of Xiyou bu, there exist in these works many other modes of expression and composition. T h e vision is by no means unified; many different worldviews contend with one another. It is difficult to contain all these elements in any framework: concerning Xiyou ji, no one reading is itself satisfactory—not Buddhist, not Taoist, not Confucian, not even syncretic. T h e "incompleteness" of Honglou

i8

CHAPTERI

meng again testifies to this: too many contradictions remain unresolved; perhaps they are not resolvable, or perhaps they are not meant to be resolved.50 This novel's incompleteness resonates with significance that goes beyond the textual, biographical, and historical. Further, allegory in a way presupposes authorial intention, which, so far as these three works are concerned, is somewhat difficult to establish. We have also to take into consideration the particular Chinese worldview, both Taoist and Buddhist. Lacking philosophical and ontological dualism, the representation of the ultimate reality differs from the Western allegorical practice, where there seems to be a vertical hierarchy between the tenor and vehicle, between what is illustrated and the illustration, between the ultimate truth and its (re)presentation.51 As manifested in poetry, Wai-Lim Yip points out, "one central function in Western poetry has been the metaphoric structure, but for many Chinese poems it is only secondary and sometimes even absent.... [T]hese poems are, in essence, nonmetaphoric and nonsymbolic, poems in which the vehicle contains the tenor."52 Concerning the parables in Fahuajing (Lotus sutra), William LaFleur writes, "[T]he illustration is in no way subordinate to what it illustrates."53 Thus, I hesitate to apply the term "allegory" in its generic sense, although I will use it constantly to refer to a mode of composition and a way of reading. Then there is the term "romance," as defined by American writers, in particular Hawthorne and Melville, and by critics like Richard Chase and by Lucien Miller in his critical study. This term does define another tradition in the Western novelistic history, an alternative tradition distinct from the "realistic" novel. However, the word "romance" is, I fear, too bound by time and place as almost an American genre. The Chinese "romance" will therefore not likely convey the sense we intend and do justice to the works at hand, or even to the term itself. Moreover, the Chinese works betray far more contradictions and dimensions, far more levels of discourse, mood, and mimesis—high and low, tragic and comic— than could their generally shorter American counterparts. Compared with the Chinese novel, the works by Hawthorne and Melville might be regarded as paragons of unity and integrity. Moreover, with some exceptions, Western romances are usually of novella length, whereas the Chinese works discussed in this study are often thousand-page tomes both in the original Chinese and in translation. If categories of allegory and romance present too many obstacles, there is an alternative: the metaphysical novel,54 a term coined by the nineteenth-century British writer Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873), who drew a distinction between the "satirical novel" and the "metaphysical novel," the former represented in his day by Gulliver's Travels, Candide, and Jonathan Wilde, the latter by Goethe's

Setting the Terms

19

Wilhelm Meister.55 Edwin M. Eigner, in his discussion of the development of the metaphysical novel in representative English and American works, points out that [i]ts works are . . . a mixture of allegory and the matter-of-fact. Correspondingly, its characters are sometimes presented on one page as ideal types and on another as realistic portraits. In the manner of setting, the metaphysical novelists did not use the never-land of their Gothic predecessors or the everyday, Dutch-genre-painting world of the realists. Rather they tried for what Hawthorne called "a theatre, a little removed from the highway of ordinary travel," not an absolute, but only "a suitable remoteness." And most dramatically, their structures, in defiance of all the rules of unity, are usually divided, quite consciously, into two distinct parts. In all these respects, not only Wuthering Heights, but also Bleak House and most of the works of Bulwer, are as radically double as is Moby-Dick, with its transcendental blubber, its down-to-earth Hamlets, its commercial ship of fools, and its dual heroes.56 As much of what Eigner says is also true of the Chinese novels studied here, I could call these works examples of the Chinese "metaphysical novel"—noting, however, that in the Chinese works the contradictions and tensions are even more acute. Better, perhaps, to modify this term and stretch a term in Chinese, wushu, and call them "fictions of enlightenment," while bearing in mind its suggestion of and parallel with the term "wisdom book/literature"

(prajnaparamita)

of Mahayana Buddhism. The Chinese term "wushu"comes from Zhang Chao (fl. seventeenth century), a critic who was also a novelist in his own right: "Shuihu zhuan is a book of anger (nushu), Xiyouji a book of enlightenment (wushu), 57

Ping Met a book of lamentation (aishu)."

Jin

A Qing critic, Jiang Shunyi, also uses

this term to characterize Honglou meng (the commentary dated 1869): Honglou meng is a book about enlightenment [or awakening].... A man in his life experiences several decades of winter and summer. The most sagacious and wise is certainly not submerged in considerations of loss and gain. However, the experiences of prosperity and decline, coming together and dispersing [of family members and friends] are too common; how can his mind be like wood and stone, without being moved by all this? In the beginning there is a profusion of intimate feelings, which is followed by tears and lamentations. Finally, there is atimewhen one feels that everything he does is futile. At this moment, how can he not be enlightened? All this is called a dream, because one should so view everything that is conditioned. But for enlightenment, how could one be liberated in such a way? ( H L M J 1:205)

20

CHAPTER I

The penultimate sentence is from Jin 'gangjing (Diamond sutra, Vajracchedika Prajnaparamita-sutra),

when the Buddha expounds on the illusoriness of all

phenomena: As stars, a fault of vision, as a lamp, A mock show, dew drops, or a bubble, A dream, a lightning flash, or cloud, So should one view what is conditioned.58 Jiang Shunyi emphasizes that the experiences of this world, direct or vicarious (by reading), will help one to comprehend the illusoriness of all this and lead to enlightenment (although the critic here is concerned with the autobiographical aspects of the novel, and therefore what he means by wu, awakening or enlightenment, might be somewhat different from what is intended by the critic Zhang Chao). Nevertheless, this passage tells us how the characters are developed and how to approach and read the book. I use the term "wushu" because the quest for enlightenment is threaded throughout all three works as their metaphysical foundation and consummation. It determines both their vision and their structure. The lives of the protagonists of these novels can all be seen as spiritual quests orjourneys. In this way, these works can be considered Bildungsromane.59 Like their Western counterparts, they are also a mixture of the allegorical and the matter-of-fact. They are concerned with both man in the historical context and the general human condition. The deliberate ambiguity about time, place, and historicity in Honglou meng and, to a lesser degree, in the other works, makes the point: these are not merely novels of manners. Cao Xueqin's endeavors must have been stupendous, given the Chinese reverence for the historical and the "real"—China's historiographical convention for biographies is to state the historicity of a person and an event at the outset, its dramatic and narrative works engaged with history and historiography, and even its lyrical tradition is characterized by nonfictionality.60 Cao Xueqin's manifest defensiveness on the subject is revealing.61 These Chinese works have different layers of meaning, different levels of discourse, and they employ equally diverse modes of expression and rhetorical devices. Moreover, they betray a conspicuous self-consciousness, manifested in the intertextual practice and the metafictional narrative device, both of which consummate in Honglou meng, where at least part of the narration is woven into the texture of the story.

CHAPTER

2

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

B U D D H I S M AND N A R R A T I V E

STRUCTURE

T h e three works that constitute the focus of this study are seemingly incongruous. Indeed, critics place them in different categories. Lu Xun (1881-1936) classified Xiyouji and Xiyou bu as "novels about gods and devils" (shenmo xiaoshuo) and Honglou meng as "[a novel] of manners" (renqing xiaoshuo).1 As this is the general consensus among scholars, how can these works be yoked together? In the previous chapter I dealt with the decidedly Buddhist tenor they all share. In this chapter I concentrate on the Buddhist soteriological patterns, which have an indelible bearing on the narrative structures of these works. Whereas Xiyouji is set as ajourney, a pilgrimage, Honglou meng is set in an affluent, aristocratic family, or the family garden, but as I will demonstrate, in structure and certain other ways they are not that distant from one another. Critics of the structure of Chinese narrative works have paid great attention to the cultural apparatuses that determine it. For instance, Plaks, who has contributed most to this subject, has unveiled many of the mechanisms at work that shape these novels, like the complementary bipolarity (yinyang) and multiple periodicity (wuxing, or five phases).2 Here, I take a somewhat teleological approach, informed by concepts in Mahayana Buddhism, that presents an alternative model. In this project, I do not dwell on the Buddhist influence in terms of individual or isolated stories or episodes, important as they are to the development of the Chinese novel. 3 Rather, I concentrate on how this influence manifests itself on the

21

22

CHAPTER 2

level of genre and structure, which, despite their significance, may often be overlooked or neglected.4 Chen Yinque (1890-1969), in his comparative analyses, pointed out the Buddhist influence on Chinese vernacular fiction,5 but he also went further. Not only do episodes from Buddhist sütras find their way into Chinese narrative works, say Xiyouji, but also the narrative conventions of these sütras have gradually shaped Chinese narrative forms. In his comments on a story of retribution prefixed to the Dunhuang edition ofJinguangmingjing (Sütra of the golden light, Suvarnaprabhásottama-sütra), Chen Yinque traced the characteristics of Chinese fiction, in terms of content and structure, back to the stories of karmic reciprocity and retribution in Buddhist sütras: "Although works of Chinese fiction are characterized by their proportions in length, they are often amalgamations of several stories of karmic reciprocity and miraculous retribution [ganying mingbao zhuanjij ifwe consider their subject and structure [neirongjiegou]."6 Moreover, Buddhist philosophy plays an important role. He writes: As I have often pointed out, the novels of our land are, generally speaking, nurtured by Buddhism. T h e Six Dynasties sütra containing the stories of Vimalaklrti is a transformation of the philosophical novel [zheli xiaosho zhi

bianxiangj.

Had the later authors emulated this model, the artistic merits of their works would have been enhanced with the passage of time, and they should have surpassed their predecessors. T h e refined and improved versions should have differed, in a conspicuous measure, from the vulgar stories of the supernatural reciprocity and karmic retribution in vogue. What a pity that in the novels in later ages, great in number as they are, few are related to this sütra. 7

Here as elsewhere, Chen Yinque examined the relationship between Buddhist sütras and popular fictional works: in a way they are of the same "genre." Such stories from canonical works have served as the model for popular works of a Active nature. As there is also an abundance of novels of dubious quality that utilize the structure of karmic retribution, he differentiated between "vulgar" works and works of refined quality, lamenting that many works in China lack philosophical depth. "Does this imply," he asked, "that because the Chinese nation falls short of metaphysical speculation, the stories ofVimalaklrti [Jingming gushij,8 although prevailing for some time, are unfit for the general psychology of the nation for their profundity?" Those "vulgar" stories that Chen Yinque had in mind have, among other factors, led the Czech critic Jaroslov PruSek to conclude that "by creating and spreading [the] scheme [of predestination and reincarnation], the religious narrator had exercised a very profound influence on the Chinese novel and, in

So terio logical Patterns, Narrative Structures

23

many respects, an unfortunate one. Chinese literature, as Hu Shi has pointed o u t , . . . had through this facile moral explanation been deprived of all the tragedy and pathos of undeserved misfortunes and so a considerable number of novels, stories and dramas became no more than unreal, schematic moralizing." 9 Both Prusek and Hu Shi have failed to consider these works seriously and are overly harsh in their judgments, for even the karmic schemes can sometimes contribute to the Chinese novel. Moreover, karmic schemes are not so completely inconducive to tragic height and intensity as they are generally thought to be. Another scholar, Liang Qichao, considered the same issue. As he pointed out with his characteristic insight, "One cannot say that China's novels after Soushen ji [In search of the supernatural, by Gan Bao (?—336)] are unrelated to the splendid Mahayana sutras and treatises [dazhuangyan jinglunj.

T h e masterpieces of

later ages, Skuihu zhuan, Honglou meng, and their like, have been as a matter of fact much under the influence of Huayanjing

(Flower ornament scripture, Ava-

tamsaka sutra) and Niepan jing (Nirvana sutra, Mahaparinirvana-sutra) terms of structure and composition

in

/jietiyunbi]."10

Chen Yinque suggested other ways of looking at the vernacular narratives, in particular in terms of their relationship with Buddhist philosophy. T h e approach is to read both the religious canonical works and the popular literary works as belonging to the same genre—that is, as narrative works of a philosophical, fictive nature. It thus elevates the status of the vernacular works, while bringing a new perspective to writings that constitute the Mahayana canon: that of fictionality as the shared foundation of the sutras and the novels. I have quoted Chen Yinque at some length because of the methodological significance of this approach: on the one hand, studying the philosophical, metaphysical, and religious discourse, which is an important component of the masterworks of the vernacular fiction, and, on the other, subjecting the canonical works to the scrutiny that is generally accorded narrative works offictive nature. His conclusions are based on a consideration of the "subject and structure" (neirongjiegou) of these works. T h e two aspects are complementary: the subject determines the structure, and the structure works upon the subject. This is well attested in literary traditions of both East and West, for instance, in Dante's Commedia, in which the Ptolemaic cosmological model is both its content and form. Liang emphasized the relationship between certain sutras and the narrative works in terms of structure and rhetoric, composition and style (jietiyunbi)}1

(In this regard it may be useful to consider as well

how Buddhist sutras bear on the composition and style of the traditional poetry and prose. 12 )

24

CHAPTER 2

Liang may not have been aware of the full import of this insight: in a way, it points to the workings of religion on the level of the deep structure, especially when considered in conjunction with his use of the "collective karma" (gongye) in explaining the religion's conspicuous presence with Chinese novelists, as discussed in Chapter 1. T h e patterns in the sutras, say Huayanjing,

especially the pilgrimage

of the youth Sudhana (Shancai) in his quest for salvation—together with the most important archetype in Buddhism, the life of Buddha—may have determined, to a great extent, the plot, especially the framing story, of these novels and their meaning. T h e novelists also adopt other significant structuring models that help to set off the dynamics of inner tensions and their resolutions within the plot lines, determine the configuration of characters, and raise the level of discourse of these novels. In short, the religious framework and other structuring principles are vital for these works. T h e religious elements are not there merely to provide a tenuous link between different stories and characters that are otherwise unconnected; 13 they are, rather, tightly woven into the very texture of these works, in terms of plot, structure, and narration. In what follows, I will examine some of the basic patterns and structures that contribute to the narrative models of the novels in question.

BUDDHA SAKYAMUNI'S

ENLIGHTENMENT

O n the centrality of enlightenment in Buddhism in all its manifestations, the Japanese scholar D. T . Suzuki says the following: [T]he realization of supreme enlightenment (anuttarasamyaksambodhi) is the end of the Buddhist life, Mahayana and Hinayana . . . ; what constitutes Buddhahood is the enlightenment itself, which the Buddha attained under the Bodhi-tree by the River Nairanjana about twenty-five centuries ago. All the teachings of Buddhism which are taught in the East at present uniformly find their source of inspiration in this truth which is at once historical and metaphysical. If not for this enlightenment there would be no Buddhas, no Buddhism, no Sravakas, nor Pratyekabuddhas, nor Arhats, nor Bodhisattvas. Enlightenment is the basis of all Buddhist philosophy as well as all Buddhist activity, moral and spiritual.14 Suzuki focuses on two aspects: the importance of enlightenment and the historical Buddha's example. Here we are concerned with the second aspect: the Buddha's quest and achievement, which have molded the course of Buddhism.

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

25

Regardless of the particularities of their individual paths, his disciples aim to emulate his life, his quest. Believers seek to relive and reenact his life on earth, to avail themselves of his teachings and become like him, to unify with him—in short, to become Buddha. Moreover, modeling and patterning have an added dimension in Buddhism: on the one hand, the Buddha in the present world follows the model of the previous buddhas, and the lives of all buddhas follow a recurring pattern, 15 and on the other hand, all aspirants imitate the life of Buddha. Furthermore, all are potential buddhas or bodhisattvas. In Huayanjing,

the monks, after

witnessing the bodhisattva Manjusri's transfiguration, vow, "By this root of goodness . . . may we become like you, may we attain bodies, voices, embellishments, and spiritual transfigurations like you.'" 6 As Francis H. Cook puts it in his discussion of the same scripture, " T h e vows of Samantabhadra [Puxian] must be sincerely duplicated by each aspirant, who really is Samantabhadra.'" 7 T h e historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, lived between 565 and 485 B.C., or between 624 and 544 or 623 and 543 B.C., according to the different reckonings of Northern and Southern Buddhism. T h e early traditions made few attempts to reconstruct his life, for the emphasis was on his teachings. Various biographies appeared between 200 B.c. and A.D. 200, among them Asvaghosa's (Maming, ca. second century A.D.) poetic version, Fosuoxingzan (Buddhacarita),1

s

a popular

Mahàyàna text that was translated into Chinese by Dharmaksema (Tanwuchen, 385-433) in A.D. 420. These works have necessarily incorporated elements of myth and legend, but since we are concerned with the préfiguration of Buddha's life in literary works, we need not distinguish between the historical and the mythological, for both have contributed to the shaping of the literary works we have at hand. According to jâtaka stories—stories about the incarnations, or life cycles, of the Buddha—Siddhartha Gautama, vowing to conquer this world of misery, has been perfected by determination and pure deeds through countless eons and acquired an unsurpassable store of merits. It takes him many life cycles to complete his journey. T h e Bodhisattva, as he is called before his last incarnation and attainment of buddhahood, emerges from the Tusita heaven where future buddhas reside and enters the womb of Mâyâ, queen of King Suddhodana of the Sâkya tribe, hence the tide of Sâkyamuni, the "sage of the Sâkyas." He is born amid myriad auspicious signs. T h e infant stands up and walks at the time of his birth, proclaiming, "This birth is the condition of a Buddha; after this I have done with renewed birth; now only am I born this once, for the purpose of saving all the world." 1 9 Such is his destiny, as the sage Asita prophesies when he comes to pay the Tathâgata homage:

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He shall give up his royal estate, escape from the domain of the five desires, with resolution and with diligence practise austerities, and then awakening, grasp the truth. T h e n constantly, for the world's sake (all living things), destroying the impediments of ignorance and darkness, he shall give to all enduring light, the brightness of the sun of perfect wisdom. All flesh submerged in the sea of sorrow; all diseases collected as the bubbling froth; decay and age like the wild billows; death like the engulfing ocean; Embarking lightly in the boat of wisdom he will save the world from all these perils, by wisdom stemming back the flood. His pure teaching like to the neighboring shore, T h e power of meditation, like a cool lake, will be enough for all the unexpected birds; thus deep and full and wide is the great river of the true law; All creatures parched by the drought of lust may freely drink thereof, without stint; those enchained in the domain of the five desires, those driven along by many sorrows, A n d deceived amid the wilderness of birth and death, in ignorance of the way of escape, for these the Bodhisattva has been born in the world, to open out a way of salvation. 20

These motifs, metaphors, and similes recur in later works, religious as well as literary, especially those concerned with deliverance. King Suddhodana, upon hearing these words, is disturbed, for he fears losing his child, even to the noble path. Although the king himself is a supremely virtuous ruler, he makes every attempt to divert the prince with sensual pleasures. He sees to it that the prince is happily married. He also has a dwelling prepared for him within the depths of the palace compound. Soon the prince has a son. T h e king is delighted: " T h e affairs of the empire will be handed down in succession, and there will be no end to its righteous government; the prince having begotten a son, will love his son as I love him." 21 One day the prince wishes to have a pleasurable excursion. T h e king, fearing the prince might chance upon something disturbing, takes great care to have the road cleared of everyone that might cause him grief. But the gods in heaven create a decrepit old man to stir the prince's heart. His charioteer discourses with him about the ravages of old age. T h e next time he ventures out, the same gods create a man afflicted with diseases. T h e prince is distressed to such an extent that he loses interest in worldly enjoyments. Then the king, taking special care to adorn the road with more beautiful things, takes the prince out again for a pleasure trip.

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

27

The same deities create a dead man. No one sees it except the Bodhisattva and his charioteer. When he comes back, the prince has lost all interest in worldly pleasures. In the midst of beautiful women who attempt to entice him, he is "driven still more to serious thought": "Not knowing that youthful beauty soon falls, destroyed by old age and death, fading and perishing! This is the great distress! What ignorance and delusion . . . overshadow their minds." 22 Thus preoccupied, the prince sits down one day in deep meditation, during which he catches a glimpse of the nature of the world. Coming out of his meditation, he encounters a mendicant who teaches him the way of asceticism. The beggar, also a deity, has come to arouse his memory. From this moment on, the prince sets his mind solely on deliverance from life and death. He asks his father's permission to become an ascetic himself. The king, as might be expected, resolutely forbids it. At this juncture, the Buddha-to-be is again helped by heavenly beings, who cause a heavy slumber to fall upon his female companions, whose distorted sleeping positions add to his scorn of human desires and his determination to leave for the forest. The gods, knowing his mind, fling the palace doors wide open. Firm in his resolve, he leaves the city of his father. His charioteer tries to bring him back by reminding him of his social and familial obligations. Finally, the prince, "drawing forth his sword, glancing in the light as the dragon's eye, (cut off) the knot of hair with its jewelled stud, and forthwith cast it into space." 23 From this point onward, Fosuoxingzan concentrates on the prince's road toward liberation, which results in the ultimate enlightenment. His father sends his councillors after him, but the prince refuses to turn back and embarks on the life of an ascetic. He studies the devotions of those who dwell in the hermitage but finds all of them inadequate. Finally, he joins five other mendicants and for six years practices asceticism—fasting and self-mortification. In the end, however, he realizes that this, too, was not the right way. Abandoning this practice, he bathes in a river and eats a meal. The others think he has given up and leave him. Then, sitting under the bodhi tree, he resolves "to perfect the way of complete deliverance"24 and succeeds in resisting the temptation put in his way by the hosts of Mara, the enemy of good teachings and of liberation.25 In the end he reaches his ultimate aim. He has gained both enlightenment and liberation, which would become the foundation of the Buddhist religion. They would also shape the Buddhist arts, both visual and literary. During the first watch he entered on "right perception," and in recollection all former births passed before his eyes;

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Countless in number were they, of every kind and sort; then knowing, too, his family relationships, great pity rose within his heart. This sense of deep compassion passed, he once again considered "all that lives," and how they moved within the six portions of life's revolution, no final term to birth and death; Hollow all, and false and transient (unfixed) as the plantain tree, or as a dream, or fantasy. Then in the middle watch of night, he reached to knowledge (eyes) of the pure Devas; And beheld before him every creature, as one sees images in a mirror; all creatures born and born again to die, noble and mean, the poor and rich, Reaping the fruit of right or evil doing, and sharing happiness or misery in consequence.26 And thus he comes to find the root of the world's misery, which he traces to ignorance. Also in this process, he finds a way to conquer ignorance—by the knowledge and wisdom gained in his illumination. " T h u s perfected, Buddha then devised for the world's benefit the eightfold path, right sight, and so on, the only true path for the world to tread." 27 From then on he devotes the rest of his life to preaching this doctrine of liberation. Buddha's life, either historical or legendary, falls neady into several periods, roughly summarized as his birth, the worldly life that entices him, his renunciation, the great struggle to follow his destiny, his quest, and the consummation of the quest—the enlightenment. 28 These central events in the life of the historical Buddha prior to the point of his enlightenment (quoted liberally from Fosuoxingzan) constitute patterns that transmigrate, so to speak, into the lives of the characters in both canonical and secular literature.

T H E P I L G R I M A G E S OF S A D A P R A R U D I T A A N D

SUDHANA

The Tathagata untiringly extols this dharma [Dharma]; those who hear it rejoice. Sadaprarudita sought wisdom in the east [dong qingj. Sudhana sought the dharma [Dharma] in the south [nan qiujP In this section we will consider how two bodhisattvas achieved buddhahood via quests in the form of pilgrimages that influenced the structure of traditional Chinese narrative. T h e first to be considered is that of Sadaprarudita (Satuobolun), whose story is included in, among others, Fangguang borejing (Sutra of illuminating prajna; Pancavimsat-sahasrika^rajnaparamita-sutra),

translated by Mok-

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

29

sala (Wuluocha, dates unkown) in A.D. 291;30 and Daoxing bore jing (Sutra of meritorious acts of prajna; Astasahasrikd-^prajnaparamita-sutra), translated by Lokasema (Zhiloujiachen, A.D. 147- ?) in A.D. 179.31 Since the earlier text contains episodes lacking in other translations as well as the extant Sanskrit version, this is the version upon which I rely.32 There, Buddha tells Sadaprarudita's story to Subhuti (Xuputi), one of his advanced disciples, as an example of how to search for the prajnaparamita, the transcendent Buddhist wisdom: aspirants, wishing to become a buddha in short order, should emulate him.33 The plot is straightforward. Sadaprarudita, like the Buddha himself, is destined to attain supreme wisdom so as to benefit all sentient beings. While asleep one day, he is called to his destiny in a dream by a voice urging him to seek the Dharma. But as there is no one preaching the Dharma in his world, he is deeply grieved and weeps day and night. A supernatural being, seeing him like this, names him Sadaprarudita, "Ever Weeping" (Changbei or Changti). He dreams again. The same supernatural figure appears to him, telling him the name of a past buddha. Thereupon he leaves home for the wilderness to meditate, as befits a man of such calling. This being insufficient, he begins to weep again. A supernatural being appears in the sky, revealing to him the name of the Dharma, prajnaparamita. Further, the bodhisattva is told how to attain it: "Go continuously east without stopping." He follows this advice and sets out on his journey, but, troubled as to how far he should go, he weeps for a third time. A buddha figure appears in the sky, preaches to him, and tells him the destination of his journey: the land of Gandhavati (Jiantuoyue) twenty thousand miles away, and the bodhisattva Dharmodgata (Tanwujie) he is to meet, the culmination of his long search. After hearing this, Sadaprarudita enters into a state of samadhi in which he sees all the buddhas of the ten directions and is instructed by them. When they were bodhisattvas they had also entered this samadhi and saw what he now sees. They instruct him to actjust like themselves. Coming out of the samadhi, he begins to think about where the buddhas come from and where they go. Thus he weeps for the fourth time. Remembering the name of Dharmodgata in the east, he sets out on his journey. The events leading up to the journey are neatly structured around the four incidents ofweeping. In Lewis Lancaster's formulation, they "provide a structure for the revelations which direct him towards the journey he must take and the prize which is to be found there. The tension of the story is achieved through the alternation of doubts, questions, weeping and revelation."34 Midway through the journey, Sadaprarudita passes through the land of Mara, Mosuoleguo (literally, the Land Beloved by Demons), where the story

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reaches its climax. He is suddenly keenly aware of his poverty. Ashamed that he has nothing to offer the teacher he is to meet, he decides to sell himself. But Mara prevents those in his kingdom from seeing Sadaprarudita and hearing his offer. T h e bodhisattva cries for the fifth time. A god, seeing this, comes down to test his resolution. He transforms himself into a Brahman and proposes to buy the bodhisattva's blood and marrow. Just as Sadaprarudita begins to mutilate his body, the daughter of a merchant comes by. So moved is she by the bodhisattva's heroism that she offers the money and saves him. T h e god now reveals his identity and restores the bodhisattva's mutilated body. Sadaprarudita reaches his destination at last and hears the preaching of Dharmodgata. Among the Buddhist scriptures, "the most imposing monument erected by the Indian mind to the spiritual life ofall mankind" 35 is Rufajiepin (Entry into the realm of reality), also known as Skuyanjing (Gandavyuha), the last book of Huayanjing (Flower ornament sutra, Avatamsaka sutra). According to the English translator of Hnayan jing, it is "perhaps the grandest drama of the Buddhist canon." 36 This sutra, the foundation of the Chinese Huayan sect, is considered to embody Buddha's first sermon after his enlightenment37 and is one of the most popular sutras among the literati of the Ming-Qing periods.38 Also widely read is the commentary Huayan jing lun by the Tang layman Buddhist Li Tongxuan (635-730), also known as Elder Li (Li zhangzhe),39 in whom, Robert M. Gimello points out, "there was another upsurge of interest... during the Ming dynasty."40 Li Tongxuan's copious commentary was published in synoptic and abridged forms for the general reader, one by the monk Fangze (Ming dynasty, dates unknown) in three juan entitled Huayanjing helun zuanyao,41 and one by none other than the Ming thinker Li Zhi (1527-1602) entitled Huayan jing helun jianyao.4'2 T h e quest of Sudhana has been frequently depicted in Chinese Buddhist art, and there are illustrated editions catering to readers from different strata in society.43 Also circulated independendy in India and China—Prajna's translation is of this book—Ru fajiepin is a narrative of great literary merit and significance, often compared with John Bunyan's (16281688) The Pilgrim's Progress.44 Moreover, in both content and form, Rufajie pin prefigures the literary works that are the concern of this study. Another significant feature is the sutra's elaboration of how an aspirant achieves supreme enlightenment in real life: it emphasizes the subjective, personal experience of the novice, rather than objective teaching about the Buddhist reality. Li Tongxuan wrote, "Because the methods ofprogress expounded in the previous assemblies of the Avatamsaka Sutra had not yet been realized [zhengruJ45 by an ordinary human being, in the Gandavyuha Manjusri wants to make Sudhana a

Soteriological

Patterns, Narrative

Structures

signpost for later generations of seekers [houxue

31 biaobangj.

Also the names of the

teachers and their abodes—people holy and ordinary, spirits, royalty, mendicants, lay people, non-Buddhists, humans, celestials, males and females—represent certain principles [tuoxiang

bido/a]."46

The emphasis of this sutra is best exemplified in the dialogue between the protagonist and Sucandra the Elder (Miaoyue zhangzhe), a lay Buddhist, in an otherwise uneventful episode: SUDHANA ASKED,

"Is it [liberation] realized by hearing talk about transcendent

wisdom?" Why not? Because transcendent wisdom is realized by seeing the true essence of things." SUCANDRA SAID, " N O .

it not a fact that hearing can produce knowledge, and then by thinking about the nature of knowledge one can get to see True Thusness and personally realize enlightenment?" SUDHANA ASKED, " I S

SUCANDRA SAID, " N O , it is not so. It is impossible to personally attain enlightenment by hearing and thinking. Let me give you a simile. Suppose someone is traveling from west to east through a desert in the summer heat, and he meets a man coming from the east and asks, 'I am thirsty and hot—where is the water and shade? I want to quench my thirst and rest and cool off.' The man knows, and tells him, 'Go east. There will be two roads, one to the left, one to the right. Take the one to the right, and if you keep traveling on it, you will eventually reach a sweet spring and trees giving shade.' Now, do you suppose that this person who is hot and thirsty can quench his thirst or cool off simply by hearing about the spring and trees and thinking about going there? Of course not. It is necessary to go by the road pointed out, to get to the oasis, bathe, and drink; only then will he be able to quench his thirst and cool off. So it is with bodhisattvas: they cannot enter the doors of the Teaching only by the understanding that comes from hearing and thinking. In this simile, the desert is birth and death, the one coming from the west is sentient beings, the heat is delusions, and thirst is craving. The one from the east who knows the road is the buddhas and bodhisattvas who abide in all knowledge and realize the equal meaning of the true essence of things. Finding pure water and being free from the heat and thirst stands for personally realizing real truth."47

The emphasis on personal experience is a foundation of Zen Buddhism, as well as of the works we call "fictions of enlightenment." Indeed, this is their raison d'être. While the philosophical teachings may be summed up in a few sentences,

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the actual process of realization, which can be protracted, and the actual journey toward knowledge, which can be arduous, are what are all important. It takes nothing short of a lifetime's experience for this insight to take on personal and subjective significance. We will see this structuring principle in the works at hand. Moreover, this is what spares these works from a fate of repetition—for everyone's personal, subjective experience is necessarily different. Rufajie

pin, about one-third the length of Huayan jing, centers around

Sudhana. Hewing to a motif common in religious as well as literary works, auspicious signs mark his conception and birth, just as they do with the Buddha. 48 Like the Buddha, he, too, had accumulated a store of merits in his former incarnations. Unlike Buddha, however, who accomplished his enlightenment in many lives after he had vowed to do so, Sudhana, with much assistance, achieves this aim within one lifetime. He is guided by his visions of buddhas, cared for by bodhisattvas, and given the personal teachings by spiritual benefactors, or shanzhishi (kalyanamitra), who include not only Buddhist figures, many of them laymen and laywomen, but also figures who are occupied with other practices. This part of the sutra begins with a grand assembly at the Jeta grove, where Buddha performs miracles in his meditation and concentration. Manjusri (Wenshushili), after paying homage to Buddha, heads southward "on a journey in the human realm [renjian],"49 accompanied by various venerable figures. Along the way he passes through a city in the south, called Dhanyakara, or Blessed City (Fucheng). 50 Among all the people who come to the assembly for his teaching, Sudhana stands out as the most distinguished. T h e bodhisattva greets Sudhana and expounds his teachings to him and the whole assembly, each of whom takes from the teaching what he can in accordance with his own mental capacity. When the bodhisattva leaves, Sudhana speaks out to him in verse, expressing his determination to pursue the path of supreme enlightenment, bodhisattvahood, a commitment of profound importance in Buddhism. In his visit to the grammarian Megha (Miqie dashi), the spiritual benefactor, upon hearing that Sudhana has set his mind on supreme enlightenment, salutes him by prostrating himself, and showers him with offerings worthy of a buddha, because determination is such an important step in Buddhism. Manjusri thereupon sends Sudhana on ajourney of pilgrimage. He tells the protagonist: It is good that you think, having set your heart on supreme enlightenment, that you should find out the practice of bodhisattvas. It is hard to find beings who set their hearts on supreme enlightenment. It is even harder to find beings

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33

who, once they have set their minds on enlightenment, seek the practice ofbodhisattvas. A bodhisattva is to attain certainty through spiritual friends, spiritual benefactors, for the realization of omniscience. One should indefatigably seek spiritual benefactors and be tireless in seeing spiritual benefactors.51 T h e bodhisattva directs the pilgrim southward: "South of here is a country called Ramavaranta [Shengle]; there is a mountain there called Sugriva [Miaofeng, or Mountain of Marvelous Peaks], where a monk named Meghasri [Deyun biqiu, or Glorious Clouds] lives. Go to him and ask how a bodhisattva should learn the conduct of bodhisattvas, and how to apply it." 52 In the terminology of this sutra, south "stand[s] for truth, clarity, and emptiness." 53 Sudhana goes to Sugriva and looks everywhere for the monk. After seven days he finds Meghasri "walking on the plateau of another peak." He pays his respects and talks with the monk in formulaic sentences that have structural significance in this sutra: he states his determination and poses questions as to how to achieve his goal. T h e monk then explains to Sudhana his particular practice and his own comprehension of reality. Corresponding to the preceding books of Huayanjing,

Sudhana is

enlightened concerning one of the ten abodes (shizhu or vihara), the abode of inspiration (faxin; prathamacittotpada).

Almost everything in this sutra has great

symbolic significance, as Li Tongxuan points out: Clouds have four meanings. They are everywhere, representing concentration. They bear moisture, representing virtue. They shade and cover, representing compassion. They shower rain, representing knowledge. Hence the name Glorious Clouds. ... Sudhana climbed the mountain to its furthest reach and looked all over for Meghasri. This symbolizes use of the power of calm observation to gain access to the abode of the enlightened. Sudhana saw Meghasri on a separate peak. This symbolizes going through expedient meditation methods to get into the original state where there is neither concentration nor distraction. Meghasri was walking slowly, symbolizing being undisturbed. Walking around represents not lingering in concentration trance.54 T h e monk, after expounding on his version of bodhisattva practice, acknowledges his limitations and so sends Sudhana off southward again to look for yet another spiritual benefactor to enlighten him further. This instruction, also formulaic, has a structural significance that recurs throughout the text:

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Go, son—south of here is a place called Sagaramukha [Haimen, or Ocean Door], where there lives a monk named Sagaramegha [Haiyun, or Ocean Cloud]. Go to him and ask him how a bodhisattva is to learn and accomplish the conduct of bodhisattvas."

The monk Sagaramegha, who has lived in Sagaramukha for twelve years, tells Sudhana about his experience of concentration in poetic language. One night, while contemplating "the measureless vastness of the great ocean," he sees "an enormous lotus from the bottom of the ocean." 56 He also sees an "embodiment of Buddha manifest sitting cross-legged on that great lotus." And although he hears the Buddha, something even more miraculous happens: the Buddha "extended his right hand, and revealed to me a teaching called universal eye, which is the sphere of all buddhas, revealing the practice of bodhisattvas." 57 Sagaramegha's revelation corresponds to the second abode, that of "preparing the ground" (zhidi; adharabhumi). Finally, this monk also acknowledges his own limitations, and so sends Sudhana farther southward, after praising the virtues of the spiritual benefactors he is yet to meet. Thus, Sudhana continues on and on, each of his visitations representing another stage on the path toward supreme enlightenment. (The structure of the pilgrimage, whether teleological or otherwise, is a very complicated issue, however, and will be dealt with in the discussion of Xiyouji in the next chapter.) In Li Tongxuan's words, "Manjusri sent Sudhana south to call on spiritual friends and benefactors, each of whom sends him onwards that he may progress and not dawdle over past learning. This is why the friends always praise the virtues of those Sudhana has yet to meet": 58 fifty-three teachers in all in the course of his arduous pilgrimage.59 The scripture focuses on the teachings of these spiritual benefactors, seldom offering more than a hint of the physical hardship encountered along the journey—for example, the fact that it takes twelve years for Sudhana to reach Vanavasin (Zhulin, or Forest Dweller) to visit Vimuktikasresthin (Jietuo zhangzhe, or The Liberated One). Toward the end of the book, bodhisattva Maitreya (Mile), the future Buddha, says the following of Sudhana to his assembly: Good people, look at this fine young man. . . . With this diligence, this purposefulness, this zealous commitment, this steadfast will, this unflagging vigor, this thirst for enlightened teaching, this excellent questing, this burning urgency, this desire to meet spiritual friends and benefactors, he left his city in search of spiritual benefactors at the direction of Manjusri and traveled south,

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35

inquiring of a hundred and ten spiritual benefactors,60 until finally he has come to me, his mind thoroughly unwearied.61 A n d Maitreya plays an instrumental role in Sudhana's enlightenment. T h e purpose of dealing with this sutra in this way has been to emphasize its overall structure and symbolism. T h e former incorporates, for example, the pilgrimage as representing the protagonist's progress toward enlightenment, the conventional, formulaic articulations of questions and instructions. T h e latter includes, for instance, the numerology, especially the division into tens, and suggestive proper names, both of places and individuals. All this bears on later novels, especially works in the form of journeys or pilgrimages. A s I have already indicated, this sutra was very popular with different strata of the Chinese population, thanks especially to the availability of illustrated synoptic editions of Sudhana's quest, interpreted and amplified by verse penned by renowned monks. I will consider other aspects of this sutra in the following chapters.

T H E MAHAYANA PARADOX

Mahayana Buddhism, or at least its Chinese variant, is characterized by a paradox that is especially acute and poignant in works of literature written under its influence. T h e paradox concerns the intrinsic relationship between the mundane world and the realm of reality, between illusion and the ultimate truth. A s one of Buddha's teachings concerns the illusory nature of this world, the logical solution, therefore, would seem to be to abandon this world for the forest, to join a monastic order, to lead the mendicant life. However, there is another interpretation that leads to a shift of emphasis: that the mundane world of phenomena, illusory as it is, is not completely devoid of positive quality. 62 Since we are concerned with Mahayana Buddhism's influence on literature, in particular on narrative, rather than with the historical and doctrinal level of the tradition, it is perhaps safe to say that one of its important shifts of emphasis is the concept of kong (sunyata, commonly translated as "emptiness") and the new significance assumed by the world of phenomena as a consequence. T h i s culminated in the Indian Madhyamika (zhongguan xuepai), as developed by Nagaijuna (Longshu, ca. A.D.150-250) and others, which preached something like a Middle Way and greatly influenced the development of Buddhism in China. Peter Harvey summarizes the relationship between the phenomenal world and emptiness

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expressed in the J in'gang jing (The Diamond sutra), one of The Perfection of Wisdom Sutras: The perfection of wisdom literature . . . regards all dharmas as like a dream or magical illusion (maya). There is something there in experience, and one can describe it well in terms of dharmas, so it is wrong to deny these exist; yet they don't have substantial existence either. What we experience does not exist in an absolute sense, but only in a relative way, as a passing phenomenon. The nature of dharmas lies in between absolute "non-existence" and substantial "existence." . . . This is what Nagaijuna means by the "Middle Way." 63 T h e best formulations are by the thinkers of Huayan and Tiantai, the most philosophical sects of the Chinese Buddhist tradition. 64 Harvey analyzes some of the tenets in Huayan jing, the founding sutra of the sect that bears its name: The Dharma-realm is seen as emptiness, thusness, the Tathagata-garbha [Rulaizang] and the one Mind of reality, pure, perfect and bright. It is true reality (Ch. lit) which interpenetrates phenomena (ski) as they do each other. Phenomena are empty, but are not unreal, for they are no different from li. Emptiness is seen, notjust as the antidote to all views, but as the ground for a positive appreciation of the concrete realities of nature, as part of a harmonious organic unity. . . . [EJvery item of existence is seen as worthy of respect and honour; for all is the "body" of Vairocana Buddha.65 In short, it seems that the kong, or emptiness, is both transcendent and immanent; its transcendence lies in its immanence. T h e realm of reality, then, is here, in the phenomenal world. In the formulation of Heart Sutra, generally regarded as expounding the central wisdom of Mahayana, "form is emptiness and the very emptiness form; emptiness does not differ from form, form does not differ from emptiness; whatever is form, that is emptiness, whatever is emptiness, that is form, the same is true of feelings, perceptions, impulses and consciousness." 66 A famous thesis naturally approximates an equation of samsara and samsara is nirvana (shengsiji niepan), as Nagaijuna

concluded, 6 7

klesa (defilements) are enlightened wisdom (fannaojiputi),'iH

nirvana:

and forms of

a common adage in

Zen Buddhism. T h i s concerns one of the basic tenets of Mahayana Buddhism, the bodhisattvahood. T o the practitioners of the religion in China, emptiness (sunyata) is to be realized in this world of sentient beings. According to Zhiyi (A.D. 538-597), one of the

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37

founding philosophers of the Tiantai sect, "The wise sees the Emptiness [kongj. He should also see No-emptiness [bukong]. How can he steadfasdy abide in Emptiness [hengzhuyu kongj?"69 Here, "No-emptiness" is identified with the Middle Way and Buddha Nature.70 The bodhisattva is one who realizes the illusory nature of the world, yet enters it to benefit all the sentient beings: "If [one] abides in Emptiness, that will never be beneficial to sentient beings. If [one] aims at benefiting others, that is the meaning of entering the provisional /rujia/."71 Here Zhiyi developed the term "jia," or the "Provisional," from Nagarjuna's concept of jiaming (Prajnapti),

or the Provisional Name. As is summarized by Ng Yu-Kwan:

From the standpoint of the Ultimate Truth, all entities are devoid of Self Nature and are therefore empty. However, these entities all originate from combinations of conditions or factors and consequently assume their existence in space and time as appearances or phenomena. In response, we provisionally appoint names to denote and distinguish these entities, and the Provisional Name comes into being.72

In Zhiyi's context, the term "jia," or the Provisional, denotes the world of phenomena. As Ng expounds further, Zhiyi "refers the Provisional to samsara or the life-death cycle. He obviously sees the Provisional to be the empirical world, and his tendency to substantiate the Provisional is very clear." 73 His philosophy emphasizes the positive side of the Provisional. Thus, dharmas, or the myriad phenomena, are non-substantial and consequendy empty; they are provisional and not ultimate. Zhiyi is fully aware of the nature of their provisionality, but he does not assume a pessimistic viewpoint. Rather, he tends to think that this provisionality is just what makes the dharmas

and the world as they are. It is due to its

provisionality that the world is subject to change and transformation, which is initiated by the function of the Middle Way-Buddha Nature. We can also say that it is only in the Provisional that the functional nature of the Middle WayBuddha Nature can secure its manifestation.74

In other words, "the Provisional is what Emptiness is based on, and it is through the Provisional that Emptiness is expressed. It follows that the Provisional is the expressing, and the Emptiness the expressed." 75 By implication, the Provisional world is a playground for the manifestation of the Buddha Nature, or a place to educate the novice about emptiness, the ultimate

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reality, a notion significant for Chinese literary history. T o realize the ultimate reality, one must enter and pass through the world of the Provisional, the world of jia, a point that finds expressions in sutras, philosophical treatises, and literary works. In Ng's exposition on Nagaijuna, "Nirvana is attained nowhere else than within the life-death cycle," and he senses that there is a "practical implication in this identification of nirvana and the life-death cycle: the Truth is to be realized right in the life-death cycle and not elsewhere." 76 T h e apocryphal but influential Yuanjuejing

(Sutra of the complete enlightenment) expostulates that the contem-

plation of illusion can lead to a realization of reality; even the practice aimed at enlightenment itself is, in the final analysis, a kind of illusion. Among the philosophical works, Zhi Dun's (styled Daolin, 314-366) 77 Jise youxuan lun (Experiencing the mysterious in the realm of phenomena [rupa]) may be considered an early representative piece. T h i s work synthesizes Buddhism and Taoism, as the tide indicates: "se," a Buddhist term, indicates the phenomenal world, whereas "xuan, " a Taoist one, indicates the realm of the mysterious. 78 T h u s , in the last book of Huayanjing,

Manjusri enters the human realm. Li

T o n g x u a n writes in his commentary that the purpose of a different setting in Ru fajie pin—the

human world rather thanjeta Grove—is

to illustrate that the garden of the human world [renjian zhi yuan] is the very garden of the reality realm of wisdom [fajie zhiyuan], that the nature of living beings is the nature of the reality realm, and that the world of living beings [zhongsheng shijian] is the world of awakening [zhengjue skijianj.79 T h i s is also what the second spiritual benefactor learned in his meditation and what he taught Sudhana, using the symbolism of the ocean: Spontaneous discipline is like the ocean. Not retaining the corpse of birth and death is the ocean door. Because he was able to make the ocean of birth and death itself into the ocean of great knowledge and always benefit people with this principle, the monk was called Ocean Cloud. Having attained the light of highest knowledge, using it to observe current subjective and objective worlds to develop all knowledge, he knew that the ocean of ignorance and pain caused by the twelvefold process of conditioning [shi'eryuan sheng wumingkuhai] is wholly the vast ocean of essence of the buddhas of all times [sanshi zhu Fo guangda xinghai], and that there is no place to attain buddhahood outside the ocean of birth and death [li shengsi hai bie wu cheng Fo zhi chuj. Therefore Ocean Cloud said he had been living in that country for twelve years.

Soteriological

Patterns, Narrative

Structures

39

Because this ocean of essence is not finite and is full of knowledge and virtue, Ocean Cloud said the ocean was very deep and very wide and adorned with many treasures.80 As Li Tongxuan put it, "[T]he ocean of birth and death becomes a way of access to the realm of reality [yishengsi

hai c h e n g f a j i e men/."81

One of the most explicit expressions of such thinking is perhaps in jing

(Sutra of the teaching of Vimalakirti, Vimalakirti-nirdesa-sutra),

Weimo

in which

the layman of the title, who knows both the world and the Dharma and who, it seems, practices both ways, exceeds Buddha's disciples and even bodhisattvas in wisdom and deeds.82 Manjusri says: [T]he family of the Tathagatas consists of all basic egoism; of ignorance and the thirst for existence; of lust, hate, and folly; of the four misapprehensions, of the five obscurations, of the six media of sense, of the seven abodes of consciousness, of the eight false paths, of the nine causes of irritation, of the paths of ten sins.83 The bodhisattva expounds further: [0]ne who stays in the fixed determination of the vision of the uncreated is not capable of conceiving the spirit of unexcelled perfect enlightenment. However, one who lives among created things, in the mines of passions, without seeing any truth, is indeed capable of conceiving the spirit of unexcelled perfect enlightenment. [FJlowers like the blue lotus, the red lotus, the white lotus, the water lily, and the moon lily do not grow on the dry ground in the wilderness, but do grow in the swamps and mud banks. Just so, the Buddha-qualities do not grow in living beings certainly destined for the uncreated but do grow in those living beings who are like swamps and mud banks of passions. Likewise, as seeds do not grow in the sky but do grow in the earth, so the Buddha-qualities do not grow in those determined for the absolute but do grow in those who conceive the spirit of enlightenment, after producing a Sumeru-like mountain of egoistic views. [TJhrough these considerations one can understand that all passions constitute the family of the Tathagata. For example,... without going into the great ocean, it is impossible to find precious, priceless pearls. Likewise, without going into the ocean of passions, it is impossible to obtain the mind of omniscience [buddha-gnosis]. 84 Particularly relevant to our understanding of the impact of Chinese Buddhism on literary works is its reassessment of desire, passion, and defilement.

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Concerning Sudhana's visit to the woman Vasumitra (Poxumiduo), Li Tongxuan writes, "This woman was living in her house north of the town square; this means that the dangerous road of folly in the long night of birth and death is the house ofbodhisattvas, and that they have no other house."85 Broadly speaking, Sudhana's pilgrimage—leaving his home, his wealth, his country—is a paradigm for the religious quest. Even in Ru fajie pin there are indications that the relationship between this world and the ultimate is a much more complicated issue. It is implied, for example, that the world of life and death is none other than the other shore, and that it is not enough just to bypass desires and afflictions. The visit to Vasumitra drives the point home well: she is in the world without being affected and defiled by it; she appears according to one's desire, such that to a god she is a goddess, to a human she is a human. So great is the power of this beautiful woman that one gains enlightenment by just looking at her, talking to her, holding her hand, staying with her, gazing at her, embracing her, kissing her. The Zhufa waxing jing (Sarva-dharmapravrtti-nirdesa), translated by Kumarajiva (Jiumoluoshi, 344-413, or 350-409), contains an episode about two bodhisattvas, Prasannenddriya (Xigen) and Agramati (Shengyi). Agramati, a strict follower of the precepts, falls to perdition, whereas Prasannenddriya, who "advocated identity of passions and awakening," finally becomes a buddha.86 Bernard Faure has further examined Buddhist doctrinal foundations for the rampant "antinomian behavior" among the practitioners; there, "transgression constitutes a determining hagiographic motif."87 In chapter 8 of Weimojing, there is the following enumeration of the deeds ofbodhisattvas: They intentionally become courtesans In order to win men over, And, having caught them with the hook of desire, They establish them in the buddha-gnosis [FozhiJ.gH

Chapter 21 of Zongjinglu mentions a certain "Means of Polluting Desire" (ran'ai famen), whereby desires lead to enlightenment, a way of putting a stop to desire by means of desire.89 In another literati text, a bodhisattva, or the bodhisattva Guanyin, transforms herself into a prostitute, and whoever makes love with her will have his lustful desires quenched.90 In the Shoulengyan jing (Suramgamasutra) translated by Kumarajiva, a bodhisattva performs sex acts with the daughters of Mara in order to save them.91 This may be regarded as another soteriological pattern, an alternative paradigm.

Soteriological

Patterns, Narrative

Structures

41

To some extent, however, this pattern can be traced to the life of Buddha, who experienced extremes of both pleasure and pain. In fact, such an experience is a prerequisite. As George R. Elder puts it: It is an event in the "Life" expressed in Buddhist doctrine as the "pleasure" (sukha), first of the Four Delusions, which must give way to "pain" (duhkha), first of the Four Noble Truths.... [T]he pain is paradigmatic. Without it, Gautama would not discover the two sides of life and deserve his tide of being "awake." Without the experience of both pleasure and pain, he should not be able to grasp something of the nature of the "opposites" which shape our experience.92 Thus, if it is sinful to abide in this world, it is only a '"necessary crime' that prompts the ego to develop fully to prepare it for the drama of what has to unfold."9' It is, after all, a fortunate fall, afelix culpa. This valorization of the Provisional constitutes the philosophical foundation for attempts at creating illusions, including visions in meditation or dream, as a spiritual aid. Buddhas and bodhisattvas tend to create visions that ultimately are devoid of substance but that serve a didactic purpose, to work on the mind of the perceiver. One of the characteristics o f H u a y a n j i n g is the preponderance of these visions. As Paul Williams points out concerning the ubiquity in this sutra of such visions and their psychological, epistemological, and soteriological significance: The world of the Avatamsaka Sutra, the world of the Buddha, is a world of vision, of magic, of miracle. As a result of meditative absorption the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas have the power, a magical power, to create. The motive for their acts of creation is great compassion. Through visualization the mind creates an image. If all is lacking in inherent existence, all is dream-like or illusory. Moreover if (as Buddhists have always believed) all follows the mind—as the mind is so is the world—it follows that the images created in meditation by the Buddhas will have as much reality as anything else. If all lacks inherent existence, or all is Mind, then not only are these images, these magical interventions, as real as anything else, but also, as mind, or lacking in inherent existence, they reveal the true nature of things as much as anything else. Since the Buddha uses his magical interventions, his transformations, solely for the benefit of sentient beings, their use will reveal the true nature of things more openly, more revealingly, than other things. In the world as seen by the Buddhas "fictions" become "reality" and "reality" becomes "fiction."94 On the ground of illusoriness and "unreality," the created world of magic or

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vision is equal to this world. T h i s , however, revolves around a paradox. In W e n d y O'Flaherty's formulation, The irony lies in the fact that this vision is sometimes real but sometimes just an illusion, created by the gods or by the Bodhisattva's own unconsciousness (the part of his mind that knows what he does not know he knows) to replace the reality that he is unable to see. He sees only a shadow of the world in which men grow old and sick and then die, even though that world really does exist and is the world in which he is going to spend the rest of his life. It is illusion that shows him what is real.9* T h i s mindset has great implications for literary endeavors, which are also illusory, whether as recordings of the Provisional world or as imaginative creations. 96 T h e above argument constitutes the raison d'être of literary creations, especially of fiction.97 According to the T a n g poet B o Juyi (772-846), "floating words and fictive utterances" have significance of a religious nature. 98 Even "brocade w o r d s " (qiyu) can be a positive occupation, conducive to the Buddhist cultivation—at least they are not hindrance—as some Ming poets and writers contend, including T a n g Xianzu. 99 In the Chinese context, this may constitute an elevation of literary endeavors, especially the creation of fictive worlds, either in dramatic or in other narrative forms. T h i s concept has an added dimension in the Chinese tradition, where literary endeavors have been relegated to only secondary value and where the distrust of literary endeavors, especially that not related to history, is deeply entrenched. T h u s , attempts to endow the creation of fictive worlds with meaning is all the more striking; the above-considered Mahàyâna tenets have supplied them with a philosophical framework. Lii Honglie (dates unknown) wrote:

Created ex nihilo, episodes and characters yet look real. Buddha says, "All is a production of the mind." On the continent of Jambudvïpa [the human world], since the beginningless beginning up till now, visions of all kinds pertain to the real; how can one only regard the things appearing on the stage—a tiny spot—as mirages [without an iota of truth]?100 T h i s truly parallels considerations above—that is, an elevation of the creation of a fictive world based on an understanding of the inherently illusory nature of the world itself. Moreover, such attempts possess something like religious significance. T u L o n g , a late Ming playwright, wrote, in the preface to Tanh.uaji, is my practice of Buddhist devotion." H e addresses possible objections:

"This

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

43

How could writing a play constitute the practice of Buddhist devotion? Because all phenomena are illusory. Plays are the most illusory among the illusory. If one comprehends the illusion of all phenomena from [viewing] the most illusory among the illusory, then plays are harmless and even beneficial. . . . You surely know that the world ofjambudvlpa is a great theater, and the birth, old age, sickness, and death of the world's people are nothing but the gathering, parting, sorrow, joy on the stage. How can the Tathagata, delivering people as he does, overlook the theater?101 T u Long considered authoring a play to be his act of Buddhist devotion. In this view both dramatic works (creation of illusions) and the Buddhist expedient means of teaching share the same ontological and epistemological root, and both the dramatist (and by extension the novelist) and the Buddha or bodhisattvas are seen to employ the same technique. The Buddha, indeed, is often called the Great Magician (da huanshi). Mair's study of the transformation texts (bianwen) is extremely relevant here: "Transformation" . . . implies the coming or bringing into being (i.e., into illusory reality, Skt. Maya) of a scene or deity. The creative agent who causes the transformational manifestation may be a Buddha, a Bodhisattva, or a saint. . . . Highly skilled storytellers and actors—with the help of visual aids, gestures, and music—were also thought to be able to replicate transformational acts of creation. The ultimate religious purpose of such transformations was the release of all sentient beings from the vicious cycle of death and rebirth (samsara). By hearing and viewing these transformations and reflecting upon them, the individual could become enlightened.102 Thus, the reification of the illusory leads one to a better understanding of the nature of this world, the world around the individual, as well as his or her inner world. It follows that even episodes and characters conjured up by the authors' own imagination, including scenes depicting romantic love, are regarded as conducive to Buddhist enlightenment, difficult though this may be to justify in mundane terms.103

T H E DELIVERANCE PLAY: A DRAMATIC M O D E L

One of the tensions in the historical Buddha's search for enlightenment is his resolution to leave behind family, throne, country, and social obligations as he sets

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off for the wilderness. Both Sadaprarudita and Sudhana have done the same. In one narrative model for the novels we consider, characters leave home and take to the road at the outset; what then unfolds are their adventures. This is especially poignant in the context of Chinese culture, which so centers on the family. In a way, we can classify the narrative models by how this tension between family and religious calling is represented, resolved, and brought under control. This brings us to another narrative structure, following the soteriological pattern we have considered: the protagonist is educated in this world, within the family structure, with all its trappings, and finally awakens from his dreamlike existence. This model is more complicated than meets the eye, however. Dramatists wrestled with this tension, and their works left an indelible mark on the novelists. Thus, it is necessary to give brief consideration to this dramatic background. The dramatic subgenre in question is dutuoju, or the deliverance play, in which enlightenment is a central concern.104 Etymologically, the term "dutuo" originates in Buddhism. The very term "paramita"(boluomiduo) means "arriving at the other shore" (dao bi'an), implying that wisdom can ferry one across the sea of life and death to the other shore of nirvana. There are numerous interpretations of "this shore" and the "other shore," as well as of the means for making this crossing. In the wisdom (prajnd) literature, wisdom itself is regarded as the boat and Buddha as the captain; consider this gatha: "Myriad life forms are submerged in the swirling river; blinded and lost, they do not know how to get out. Only Tathagata is able to ferry himself and others across. This is why the Buddha is called the Great Ferryman (da chuanshi).105 Of the twenty-second spiritual teacher—the mariner Vaira (Poshiluo chuanshi)—whom Sudhana visits, Li Tongxuan writes: "Vaira is called Independent, because he used natural discipline and great compassion to go into the ocean of birth and death while remaining free. Vaira is represented as a mariner, for he was like a ship that does not stay on the near shore, does not stay on the farther shore, and does not stay in midstream, but carries people across."""' These significant passages can be said to sum up the theme and structure of deliverance plays, as well as, in a way, the novels at hand. The deliverance play, then, is essentially a dramatization of this "crossing," as understood by the authors, who cast many of the plots of their works within a Taoist framework.107 W. L. Idema sums up the basic plot line of such plays: A low-ranking divinity has for a slight dereliction of duty been sentenced by a superior divinity to rebirth as a mortal. After a number of years, the superior divinity orders one of his assistants to descend to earth and enlighten the exile,

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative

Structures

45

now grown up to adulthood, as to the vanity of human existence, so that he or she will "leave the family," i.e., cut all social ties, free one's self from addiction to wine, greed, anger, and sexual lust, practice religious self-cultivation, and eventually regain one's original state of immortality. W h e n the deliverer, usually in the guise of a mad, mendicant Taoist priest, for the first time meets the person to be delivered, the exile clings strongly to thejoys of life and resists all attempts at conversion. Next, the deliverer miraculously causes a sudden and total change in the person's fortune: death or its imminent danger brings awareness of the ultimate futility of love and riches. At this point, the individual now is eager to cut all social ties and become the disciple of the deliverer. After a period of religious practice, during which time the disciple may meet his or her relatives and refuse their entreaties to "return to the family," he or she is taken by the deliverer to meet the superior divinity in order to resume his or her former state of existence. 108

We need make only a slight modification to this summary. The characters to be liberated can be figures who are already on the Buddhist or Taoist other shore but who return to this world due to some unpurged desires, or they may be figures sent to this world as punishment for some mistake (as per Idema), or they may be ordinary humans who are unsatisfied in the mundane world and yearn to transcend it and, indeed, are destined to do so in their lifetime.109 "Central to the plot of the deliverance play," writes Idema, "is the conflict between the persistent deliverer and the reluctant convert, resulting in a total change of character in the latter.'" 10 Such plays revolve around the conflict between the deliverer and the delivered and the value each represents. The key issue is family life and its attendant social obligations: the protagonist at first refuses to leave his familiar world, as his attachments are too strong. Gradually, the deliverer by various means helps his disciple to achieve liberation, resorting on many occasions to magic. This application of the Mahayana concept o f f a n g b i a n , or Skillful Means (upaya), constitutes the bulk of the plot. The climax comes with the final conversion or enlightenment of the protagonist, who is now delivered. This subgenre is a sober form, although representative works are often staged at birthday celebrations. Zhu Youdun, the Ming prince playwright, sensed the disparity between their tenor and the occasion and expurgated many of those elements that ill suited the happy occasion.111 This dramatic model is the basis of many classic Ming-Qing dramatic works.112 It also offers many insights, both structural and thematic, into the novels we are to engage. For instance, the typical plot of the deliverance play frames both

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2

Xiyou ji and Honglou meng, and there are many miniature deliverance stories within these books. However, the deliverers recede into the background in the novels, especially in the Qing piece, where the plot revolves around the protagonist and his life within the family compound, although the same conflict is one of the forces that sets off the novel's dynamics.

J O U R N E Y , T H E A T E R , AND F A M I L Y :

CONCLUSION

Ronald Paulson, writing on the narrative structure of the eighteenth-century English novel, begins with Joseph Addison's (1672-1719) comments on two metaphors of life. According to the Scriptures, men are "Strangers and Sojourners upon Earth, and Life a Pilgrimage." 113 According to the Greek Stoic philosopher Epictetus (ca. A.D. 60-ca. 120), the world is a theater. 114 Pilgrimage and theater are metaphors not only for life but also for writing and reading. Moreover, they constitute two most important narrative structures. Injourney, 115 with its emphasis on teleology, a providential structure is built around a "series of encounters" on the road. Theater emphasizes interactions between different characters: the plot is not only "linear," as injourney narratives, but also "layered." As Paulson writes, " T h e metaphor of journey, Fielding suggests in Tom Jones, remains as a means of explaining the process of living, writing, and reading the unfolding romance, with its clear-cut beginning, middle, and end; while the metaphor of theater must be resorted to in order to examine objectively and understand the problematic actions of both living and writing.'" 16 Here as elsewhere, 117 Paulson traces the English novel's evolution in terms of narrative structure, from the picaresque to the novel of spiritual pilgrimage to the one centered around family relationship—an evolution manifested variously in the works of Henry Fielding (1707-1754), Tobias George Smollett (1721-1771), and Samuel Richardson (1689-1761), and further developed in Oliver Goldsmith (i730?-i774) and Jane Austen (1775-1817). Although the theater model finally becomes the "dominant structure of the English novel," this does not mean that the journey structure is replaced; rather, later authors simply concentrate on a segment of the journey. " T h e journey does not disappear," writes Paulson, "but, no longer the steady forward flow of the Defoe novel, it is segmented: the lone hero does not vanish, but he becomes part of a configuration of characters, a group, often a family.'" 18 Family in these novels becomes, as it were, the stage upon which characters configure and interact, whereby they develop themselves to fullness.

Soteriological Patterns, Narrative Structures

47

In Bakhtinian terms and in broader philosophical, social, and cultural context, the model of pilgrimage and journey (where various encounters, constituting the main plot, occur) and the model of theater (including the family, where characters interact with one another in depth) may be regarded as chronotopes. The Russian thinker Bakhtin, however, pays more attention to how certain chronotopes, or time-space structures, appear in certain historical periods and bring into play the interactions between various social strata. For the chronotope of the road, he traces the development from Petronius' Satyricon, Apuleius' Golden Ass, medieval chivalric romances on the road, Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival, Sorel's Spanish picaresque novel Francion, and Lesage's Gil Bias, to Defoe, Fielding, Goethe's Leh.rjah.re and Wanderjahre, and Novalis' Heinrich von Ofterdingen, among others. Other chronotopes, where the flow of time is expressed within concentrated spaces, include the casde (Gothic novel), the parlor and salon (Stendhal and Balzac), the provincial town (Flaubert), and the threshold (Dostoevsky).119 The differing perspectives of these scholars can shed much light on the Chinese narrative works.120 This trajectory is also observable in these novels, in particular those created by literati rather than those that are reworkings of existing (historical) materials.12' Xiyouji can be seen as a j ourney or pilgrimage par excellence, whereas Honglou meng is centered around the Jia family. The journey or pilgrimage stresses the Buddhist teleology,122 with the plot to a great extent built, like that of their Western counterparts, around random encounters on the road. By contrast, the family model stresses interactions between different characters. In the Chinese context, these structures take on an added dimension from the Buddhist enlightenment patterns we have discussed. The journey constitutes a move away from society and family into the wilderness. Honglou meng, however, which centers on the family structure, represents the paradox of Maháyana Buddhism: only in the ocean of life and death can one find true knowledge and wisdom; only in the world of suffering can one find deliverance. Nevertheless, the journey is still the basic structure, for the narrative centered around the family, as far as the protagonist is concerned, may be regarded as a segmented journey. In fact, he will finally abandon his family, his home, his garden, for the road. "The journey does not disappear," to use Paulson's words again; "it is segmented." Neither does the lone hero disappear: "he becomes part of a configuration of characters, a group, often a family." In the final analysis, life in the family is but a temporary arrangement, and it is itself a journey, a crossing from this shore to the further one, in fiction as well as in life. What follows is a discussion of three narrative works from the Chinese

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vernacular literary tradition, with the above considerations serving as the conceptual frame. My discussions will build on the basic settings of the novels in question: in Xiyouji, journey and the road; in Xiyou bu, a segment of the journey and the dream; in Honglou meng, the family and the garden. Set against these various backgrounds, the drama, the great illusion that is life, is staged: sometimes with awesome grandeur, heartrending pathos, tragic height and intensity, and philosophical profundity, sometimes with unfailing humor and entertaining levity. But it is always enthralling.

CHAPTER

3

The Journey

We are not provided with wisdom, we must discover itfor

our-

selves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can takefor us, an effort which no one can spare us, for our wisdom is the point of view from which we come at last to regard the world. —Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things

Past,

trans. C . K. Scott Moncrieff, 8:228

STRUCTURES OF THE JOURNEY

W e b e g i n this c h a p t e r o n Xiyouji

w i t h remarks b y Y o u T o n g ( 1 6 1 8 - 1 7 0 4 ) — h i m s e l f

a s c h o l a r , h i s t o r i a n , critic, a n d w r i t e r p r o f i c i e n t in all literary f o r m s available to h i m , especially drama. H e w a s also a friend o f C a o X u e q i n ' s grandfather, C a o Y i n . I n h i s 1 6 9 6 p r e f a c e to a c o m m e n t a r y e d i t i o n o f this n o v e l , Y o u T o n g c o m p a r e s the fictional w o r k w i t h

W h e n I read Huayanjing

Huayanjing:

in its entirety I was greatly amazed. T h e earth con-

sists o f f o u r continents;' the universe is further divided into "small-thousand-," "medium-thousand-," and "great-thousand-" worlds. 2 T h e r e is one heaven, but there are names like Trayastrimsa and Suyama. . . . Furthermore, there are Cakravada, 3 Fragrant Seas, 4 circle of wind, 5 blazes from various treasures, suns, moons, clouds, rains, palaces, gardens, canopies of scented

49

flowers,

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gold, silver, lapis lazuli, mani—innumerable, measureless, boundless, so much so that they are utterly ineffable. T o sum up, all of this, however, is the production of the mind. Xiyouji by a later author could be regarded as a reprise (waipian) of the Huayan. Its expressions, bordering on the illusory as they are, could be allegories of the great; the episodes, although fantastic, could testify to truth; its meanings, although aimed to be playful, possess profundity to such a degree as to possess magic potency. Those who know its intention will understand that Tripitaka is a transfiguration (huashen) of bodhisattvas, and Pilgrim, Bajie, Sha Monk, and Dragon Horse are transformations (fenti) of Brahma, Sakra Devanamindra, Dhrtarastra, Virudhaka, Virupaksa, Vaisravana;6 and the Bull Demon King and the Tiger-Strength Immortal they meet [on the way] are transformations (bianxiang) of asura, garuda, kimnara, mahoraga.7 If seen in this way, 104,000 [108,000] miles [the pilgrims have traveled] is no more than oneyojana;* fourteen years [the journey takes] is only one ksana.9 Eighty-one ordeals [the protagonist goes through] are an antithesis (fandui)'0 to [Sudhana's] fifty-three visitations; the thirty-five titles of the scriptures they have obtained are none other than what remains of the forty-two phonemes.11 This is because there is no way to tame the demons; there is only a way to tame the mind. When the mind is tamed, the demons are tamed. He who records the Journey to the West has in fact transmitted Huayan's Dharma of the mind (Huayan zhi xinfa).12 T h e author is amazed at this encounter with the Buddhist sutra and experiences a shock of recognition: he is surprised that Xiyouji shares so much with it. Y o u T o n g ' s remarks reflect the religious syncretism of his age and are prefixed to an edition with Taoist commentaries. A t the beginning he says that he had the fortune to read the books by the sages of the three religions but that Buddha's teaching is the most remarkable. He tries in this preface to Xiyou ji to reconcile the unmistakable Buddhist frame of reference with Taoist interpretations, since this novel is attributed to a Taoist patriarch, Qiu Chuji (1148-1227). Nevertheless, his discussions in terms of Buddhism are serious, insightful, and well substantiated. 13 Y o u T o n g ' s remarks recall the late Ming-early Qing scholar Qian Qianyi's (1582-1664) comment on Su Shi (1037-1101), the doyen of Chinese letters: When reading Su Shi's writing—blandly laid out and straightforwardly narrated, like a great quantity of silvery water flowing along the ground, then [suddenly] bursting forth—I thought that in neither the past nor the present had there been such a writing style, flowing like an unleashed torrent without banks or boundaries. [However,] lately I have been reading the Avatamsaka

The Journey

51

Sutra, which is as vast as the misty sea, with nothing left out and nothing left unexhausted. Then, heaving a sigh, I said, Su Shi's writings surely were inspired by this.14 Qian is surprised at the stylistic similarity between a particular magnificent scripture and the literary works of a writer he greatly admires. He claims never to have seen anything like it—by implication, even the philosophical work with the most liberal and magnificent style, Zhuangzi, falls somewhat short—until he read the Buddhist sutra. By contrast, You Tong, in his commentary on the Ming novel, sees the similarities much more broadly—in terms of style, structure, and thematic concerns. The modern scholar Hu Shi (1891-1962) also notes, in his "Xiyou ji kaozheng," the fictional work's relationship to Ru fajie pin, the final book of Huayan jing.15 His attention to Ru fajie pin further reinforces You Tong's insight, although his conclusions, seemingly reached independendy, are simpler than You Tong's. Hu Shi must have regarded this sutra as an important inspiration for Xiyou ji, if we consider his discussion in the context of three other sources he listed: the historical Xuanzang's (600-664) Da TangXiyuji

(A record

of the western regions of the great Tang); the Southern Song (1127-1279) and early Yuan (1271-1368) story cycles of Xuanzang's pilgrimage, as well as Jin (11151234) and Yuan dramatic works of the same nature; and the author's own imagination and creativity! Great progress is ascertainable in the study ofXiyouji's textual evolution, as the valuable discoveries by Hu Shi, Lu Xun, and others have been supplemented and even superseded, for example by Glen Dudbridge, who, along with others, has uncovered further sources and editions. However, the relationship between Xiyou ji and Buddhist literature seems not yet to have received the attention it deserves. My emphasis, again, is not sources and textual history, although the evidence does suggest an affinity between these canonical religious works and the novel. Some religious works are singled out, instead, because of their structural affinity with Xiyou ji and their narrative patterns. In this light, You Tong's remarks are significant in many ways, but I will concentrate here on their illumination of the structuring design of the novel: the pilgrims' trek, which closely resembles Sudhana's; and the protagonist's eighty-one trials' parallelism— ironically or, to use You Tong's own word, "antithetically"—to the fifty-three visitations by Sudhana in Ru fajie pin. As Sudhana goes to the South, so the pilgrims go to the West, to reach the Spirit Mountain, the abode of the Buddha. I will consider other points as the occasion arises.

52

CHAPTER 3

Meanwhile, it would not be farfetched to suggest that the plot of Xiyouji has a close affinity with the story, in various Prajnaparamita sutras, of Sadaprarudita, who journeys to the East, if only we consider how prone to profuse lamentation and weeping Tripitaka is, and the zealousness of the demons and monsters to eat his flesh. The irony here is obvious. In the novel, the protagonist is too weakwilled and too passive; moreover, he lacks the insight to comprehend what is happening around him. Hu Shi's creative rewrite o f X i y o u j i ' s penultimate chapter has redeemed Tripitaka in this respect.16 Hu Shi is unsatisfied with this chapter in the Ming edition. Modeled more on jataka tales, where Sakyamuni in a former life mutilates his own body, even sacrifices himself, in Hu Shi's rewrite the Tang monk is made to do the same: no longer frightened by the monsters who conspire to gobble him up alive, he offers himself willingly to the spirits of these demons whom Sun Wukong has killed along the way. This, the protagonist finds out, is but a dream in which he goes through the eighty-first ordeal as per his destiny. Although the bulk of Xiyouji consists of the westward pilgrimage, it begins with the adventures of Monkey Sun Wukong, who is later to become the monk's chief disciple and protector. Therefore, I begin with the first seven chapters, those that concern exclusively Monkey's adventures, which are largely his attempts at achieving deliverance from the ocean of life and death. This book within a book serves as a prologue to the westward pilgrimage, setting the geographical boundary of the forthcomingjourney and introducing issues vital to the understanding of the novel, one of which is the ubiquitous human mind or heart.

T H E J O U R N E Y OF S U N W U K O N G

The novel opens with a discourse on cosmogony and cosmology that fuses Buddhist, Taoist, and popular beliefs. After an account of the evolution and formation of heaven and earth, the author then mentions the four great continents in the outer oceans of salt water, following a modified version of the Buddhist cosmology:17 the East Purvavideha Continent (Dong Shengshenzhou), the South Jambudvipa Continent (Nan Shanbuzhou), the West Aparagodaniya Continent (Xi Niuhezhou), and the North Uttarakuru Continent (Bei Juluzhou). Near these continents are islets, inhabited by Buddhist and transcendental figures, bodhisattvas and immortals. In the Buddhist cosmic geography, the humans, Chinese and Indian alike, live on the JambudvTpa Continent. However, the author locates India, where the historical Buddha lived and preached, and the mythical Western

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Paradise, where the Buddha now reigns (its prototype being the Paradise of the Pure Land sect), in the Aparagodanlya Continent. All the continents are surrounded by oceans of salt water. The opening chapters adhere to this geographical arrangement. Thus, for instance, Monkey's master in the West Aparagodanlya Continent chides him when Monkey tells him that he is from the East Purvavideha. The master does not believe him, for he asks, "[H]ow is it that you mention the East Purvavideha Continent? Separating that place and mine are two great oceans and the entire region of the South Jambudvipa Continent. How could you possibly get here?" (XYJ 1.13; JW 1:81). Yet when the journey to the West begins, the two continents (the South Jambudvipa and the West Aparagodaniya) somehow become one landmass, unseparated by the seas, for the pilgrims reach their destination on foot.18 (This, however, may also be construed as implying the pilgrimage is not merely a physical one, a viable interpretation that will be considered in due course.) The birth of Sun Wukong is set in the East Purvavideha Continent, in which there is a country near the sea called Aolai. In the sea there is a mountain, called the Flower-Fruit Mountain (Huaguoshan). The mountain, "com[ing] into being after the creation of the world," "constitute[s] the chief range of the Ten Islets and form[s] the origin of the Three Islands" (XYJ i.2\ JWi:66), the abodes of immortals. As a poem further describes it: "This is indeed the pillar of Heaven, where a hundred rivers meet— / The Earth's great axis (dadi gen), in ten thousand kalpas unchanged" (XYJ 1.3; JW 1:67). Clearly this mountain is meant to be the center of the world, the axis mundi,]9 hence the gravity of the story on hand. Some modification is needed, however. Whereas the scholar Mircea Eliade emphasizes the cosmological hierarchy—the importance of the mountain derives from its proximity to heaven—in Xiyouji, the emphasis seems not to be on the heavenly realms. Rather, it is on what happens in the middle realm, namely the development of the human being—the most precious among the life forms of the world (tiandi zhi xing zuigui zhe),20 the spirit of myriad things (wanwu zhi ling)21—that absorbs the author's attention. The human being is the manifestation of the benevolent forces of the universe, the product of yin and yang energies, the gathering together of spiritual powers and quintessence of the five phases— or, in other words, the center, the mind/heart of the universe (tiandi zhi xin).22 Thus, we can perhaps say that in the Chinese context this axis mundi refers to the human being, who is at the center of and most important of the three entities: heaven, man, and earth. The birth of the stone monkey may therefore be regarded as a dramatization of the formation of this mind/heart of the universe.

54

CHAPTER 3

There was on top of that very mountain an immortal stone, which measured thirty-six feet and five inches in height and twenty-four feet in circumference. The height of thirty-six feet and five inches corresponded to the three hundred and sixty-five cyclical degrees, while the circumference of twenty-four feet corresponded to the twenty-four solar terms of the calendar. On the stone were also nine perforations and eight holes, which corresponded to the Palace of the Nine Constellations and the Eight T r i g r a m s . . . . Since the creation of the world, it had been nourished for a long period by the seeds of Heaven and Earth and by the essences of the sun and the moon, until, quickened by divine inspiration, it became pregnant with a divine embryo. One day, it split open, giving birth to a stone egg about the size of a playing ball. Exposed to the wind, it was transformed into a stone monkey endowed with fully developed features and limbs. {XYJi.y,

JW 1:67)

Here, then, is the symbolic significance of the stone—its height, circumference, and shape are suggestive of the mythological and the cosmic realms. T h e stone monkey's birth is reminiscent of that of Pan'gu, the first being that evolves from a primordial egg: Heaven and earth were in chaos like a chicken's egg, and Pan'gu was born in the middle of it. In eighteen thousand years Heaven and earth opened and unfolded. The limpid that was Yang became heavens, and turbid that was Yin became the earth. Pan'gu lived within them, and in one day he went through nine transformations, becoming more divine than Heaven and wiser than earth. Each day the heavens rose ten feet higher, each day the earth grew ten feet thicker, and each day Pan'gu grew ten feet taller. And so it was that in eighteen thousand years the heavens reached their fullest height, earth reached its lowest depth, and Pan'gu became fully grown. 23 Humans have their vocation in this life on earth. According to Taoism, they should strive to overcome and transcend the physical limitations that accompany them at birth and thereby achieve immortality. According to Buddhism, they should strive for Buddhahood. In Harvey's summary, It is . . . seen as particularly fortunate to be born as a human being. In the lower realms, there is much suffering and little freedom of action. In the heavenly realms, life is blissful in comparison with human life, but this tends to make the gods complacent, and they may also think they are eternal, without need of liberation. The human realm is a middle realm, in which there is

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enough suffering to motivate humans to seek to transcend it by spiritual development, and enough freedom to be able to act on this aspiration. It is thus the most favourable realm for spiritual development.24

In other words, samsara, the existence in the world of life and death, is "a pilgrimage leading to [the] final goal of union with the Buddha," as Kenneth K. S. Ch'en so nicely puts it. "This salvation," Ch'en continues, "is guaranteed by the fact that all living beings possess the Buddha-nature."25 Moreover, this vocation is almost "divinely" prescribed and determined: it is also an expression of the Great Way. The significance of the birth of the monkey—who represents the human being—is attested to by this poem: At the springtime of the world, 26 myriad things are produced. T h e divine stone contains the essence of the Sun and the Moon

(riyuejing). It takes advantage of the egg, and assumes the form of a monkey, to complete the Great Way

(jie luan hua hou wan dadao), (jia ta mingxingpei

And borrows a name to compound the Elixir

dan cheng). Men of all ages are like this too; They can thus call themselves kings and sages, and enjoy ultimate freedom. 27 (XYJ

1.6)

The subject of the second couplet seems to be the "essence of the Sun and the Moon," another way of saying that the stone's embryo contains the essence of the universe, or is its manifestation. As is shown later, Monkey's first master is secredy overjoyed to learn that Monkey is born when the stone splits open: "Well, evidently you have been created by Heaven and Earth" (JW 1:82). This essence of the sun and moon also corresponds to the poem in the last chapter: "One body of reality [is] fallen to the dusty plain" (yiti zhenru zan luochen) (XYJ 100.1261; J W 4:427). "Zhenru" (bhutatathata) means "the eternal, impersonal, unchangeable reality behind all phenomena."28 Monkey's task is to rise above this dusty world. Further, the Chinese term "jiajie" does suggest that this essence of the universe takes advantage of the stone egg, assumes the shape of a monkey, and borrows a name, by means of which to complete or give full expression to itself: the Great Way or the Great Elixir (that is, eternal life). According to the philosopher Zhuangzi, life itself is ajiajie (shengzhe, jiajie ye).29 It harks back to the poem that opens the novel:

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CHAPTER 3

Before Chaos divided, Heaven and Earth were confused; Formless and void—such matter no man had seen. But when Pan'gu the nebula dispersed, Creation began, the impure parted from the pure. The supreme goodness, benefic to every creature, Enlightened all things to attain the good. If you would know creation's work through the spans of time, You must read The Chronicle ofDeliverance in the Westward Journey. (XYJ l.i; J W 1:65) One of the goals of sages and philosophers is to be the mind/heart of the heaven and the earth (wei tiandi lixin) and to give voice to it. As the verses quoted above indicate, the author has a high opinion of this Chronicle of Deliverance and considers that he is doing the same. Monkey may be regarded, in Buddhist terms, as a provisional way of discourse on the working of the noumenal. The term "jiajie" thus suggests a layer of meaning behind the ostensible events. This may also be regarded as a metaphor for writing—and reading—the book. The last couplet of the poem describing the birth of Monkey implies that everyone is like this, having the inner wherewithal to be a king or a sage. In this way, Monkey could be regarded as Everyman and the book his adventure, as is clearly indicated by the closing lines of these two poems and of another that appears later, a line of which is, "One mind-body is identical to the myriad phenomena" (yige shenxin wanfa tong) (XYJ 14.172). Something else, vital for the understanding of this book, is operating simultaneously, namely the working of the human mind/heart. In traditional Chinese belief, humans are regarded as the center—the mind or heart—of the universe, its spirit, its expression. Moreover, the most important human faculty is the mind/heart (xin), which distinguishes the human being from other beings and things. Without it, humans would be no differentfromanimals. Because of mind/heart, which determines deeds and thoughts, humans are the most precious life form of the universe.30 Thus, human mind/heart is the center of the center, the heart of the heart, the core of the core. It encompasses heaven and the earth. It is the seat of knowledge and, furthermore, the Buddha nature. As the author expresses in a poem: The Mind is the Buddha and the Buddha is Mind; Both Mind and Buddha are important things.31 (XYJ 14.172; J W 1:297) But this same mind is capable of many negative and dreadful things. It may disturb heaven and earth, as Monkey will later do. It creates illusions that prevent

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one from grasping the truth. T h u s , the mind should be cleansed and cultivated. In Confucian terms, " T h e human mind is precarious, the mind of the W a y is subde." 3 2 N o doubt Huang Zhouxing has this passage in mind when he comments on Monkey's full conversion having occurred only when the bodhisattva, with her magic power, puts the Gold Fillet on his head: " H e can't be said to have been converted until this moment. H o w precarious! H o w subde!" ( Z D S 14.134135). T h e late Ming intellectual development has enhanced the emphasis on the human mind. 33 Wang Yangming writes, "Man is the xin [mind] of Heaven and Earth and all things. T h e mind is the master of Heaven and Earth and all things (tiandi wanwu zhi zhu). T h e mind is the word of Heaven; the mind suggests Heaven and Earth and all things." 34 W e may perhaps generalize that the mind/heart is the center of Buddhism: everything depends upon it. A n d Buddhist learning can be summed up as training one's mind in this respect. A s Anthony C . Y u points out, the Buddhist mind is "both the creator of illusory experience and its chief source of illumination"; "the narrative [Xiyouji] has seized on this paradoxical exaltation of the mind and its proscription as one of the main devices for the construction of plot and character." 35 Many critics have looked at Monkey as representing the human mind or heart. Huang Zhouxing, the commentator of Xiyou zhengdao shu, for example, elaborates upon this in the exegesis prefixed to chapter l. 36 T h e stone egg, according to this commentary, even suggests the shape of a human heart. 37 Man and mind are thus identical. T h e Flower-Fruit Mountain may also be regarded as paradise before the Fall, a place where Monkey lives an idyllic life of innocence before there is any cognition of man's mortality and mutability. Innocence, however, is torn asunder as soon as one develops a self-consciousness and a cognition of the impermanence and, consequendy, the suffering in human existence. T h e stone monkey is made the Monkey King for his ingenuity and bravery in discovering a cave for habitation, the womblike Water-Curtain Cave, thus becoming a cultural hero of sorts. He enjoys "this insouciant existence for three or four hundred years" (XYjf 1.6; J W 1:72), until one day he grows sad and sheds tears. T h e other monkeys do not understand him; they tease him for his discontent: "Here we daily have a banquet on an immortal mountain in a blessed land, in an ancient cave on a divine continent. W e are not subject to the unicorn or the phoenix, nor are we governed by the rulers of mankind. Such independence and comfort are immeasurable blessings. W h y , then, does he worry about the future?" (XYJ i.y\JW

1:72-73).

T o this the Monkey King replies: " T h o u g h we are not subject to the laws of man

5«

CHAPTER

3

today, nor need we be threatened by the rule of any bird or beast, old age and physical decay in the future will disclose the secret sovereignty of Yama, King of the Underworld. If we die, shall we not have lived in vain, not being able to rank forever among the heavenly beings?" Hearing this, all of the monkeys present "covered their faces and wept mournfully, each one troubled by his own impermanence" {XYJ 1.7; JW 1:73). A bareback monkey, however, ventures, "If the Great King is so farsighted, it may well indicate the sprouting of his religious inclination." He tells the Monkey King about the three species that are not subject to the King of the Underworld: Buddhas, Taoist immortals, and Confucian sages. The Monkey King thereupon resolves to go in search of them: "Even if I have to wander with the clouds to the corners of the sea or journey to the distant edges of Heaven, I intend to find these kinds of people" (XYJ 1.7; J W 1:73). At this seminal moment, innocence is irrevocably lost, and all subsequent acts reflect his endeavors to deal with this, to transcend this loss by turning it into a gain on a higher level: in Buddhist terms, to turn the sea of life and death into the ocean of wisdom. This is effected by a knowledge of one's self, which comes only after one becomes aware of the afflictions in the world. As is expressed in the apocryphal but influential Yuanjuejing (The sutra of complete enlightenment), "When a man is healthy, he forgets all about the body of his ego. When his four limbs are not in a good state or when he is unwell, if he is cauterized with moxa, (the pain will cause) his ego to be felt as existing."38 This moment, however, also coincides with the Buddhist bodhicitta, the determination to seek and practice the Dharma, just as the bareback monkey has said, although at this moment the Monkey King's concerns are solely those of a Taoist—the search for immortality. The next morning Monkey sets out on a pinewood raft, mimicking the legendary voyages of such figures as Bodhidharma (Putidamo, ?~528), who is said to have crossed the Yangtze on a reed. The sea voyage, as is discussed in Chapter 2, is also a metaphor for deliverance from the sea of life and death. From the East Purvavideha Continent across the sea, Monkey reaches the South Jambudvipa Continent (China, in the geography of this book). There he spends some eight or nine years without encountering a single individual practicing the way toward immortality. The author has many unflattering things to say about China. One day, in his wanderings, Monkey reaches the Western Ocean. He builds another raft, crosses the ocean, and arrives at the West Aparagodaniya Continent, where he finds his master, Subodhi (or Subhuti; Xuputi). The master bearing that name is, however, one of Buddha's ten chief disciples, often conversing with Buddha himself, as, fittingly, one finds in the wisdom sutras (Jin'gangjing [Diamond sutra], to name

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just one).39 As discussed in Chapter 2, the story of Sadaprarudita is narrated to Subodhi by the Buddha. He exceeds all others in understanding and expounding on emptiness, or sunyata (jiekong diyi).40 Some commentators on this sutra interpret this name as meaning "understanding emptiness" (jiekong).41 But in this story he wears the Taoist garb, and it is he who names Monkey Sun Wukong, meaning comprehension of, or awakening to, "emptiness." T h e narration of Monkey's apprenticeship and initiation mimics Tan jing (Platform sutra) in some significant details and motifs, especially in how the patriarch secretly transmitted the means of cultivation to him, and how the transmission of the "Dharma" (fa) is so precarious that one's life is at risk (chaps. 1-2). 42 It seems that what Monkey has learned during these years is how to expand his physical prowess, as embodied in the Taoist practice, to achieve longevity and immortality. "From then on, he had complete freedom, blissfully enjoying his state of long life" {XYJ2.22-,

JWv.qi).

Among other things, Monkey learns cloud-somersault and seventy-two transformations. Ironically, except for the occasional exchange of cryptic sentences that smack of Zen koan, not much space is devoted to the cultivation of the mind, as the name of the immortal patriarch's abode would seem to suggest—both Lingtaifancun shan (Mountain of Heart and Mind) and Xieyuesanxing dong (Cave of Slanting Moon and Three Stars) are references to the mind/heart, xin, in Chinese,4'* the latter being a play on the very ideogram. At this moment, Monkey wants only to "learn how to be young forever and escape the calamity inflicted by King Yama" (XTJ 1.7; JW\:"]s), just as he says to other monkeys before he sets out for his journey. From here we can be almost certain that something will go awry, as indeed happens in the course of the story. Because of his eagerness to show off his prowess, a sign of frivolousness on his part, the patriarch asks Monkey to leave amid a cryptic, k5an-like exchange of words. "Where am I to go, Teacher?" he asked. "From where you came," the Patriarch said, "you should go back there." " I came from the East Purvavideha Continent," Wukong said, his memory being jolted by the Patriarch, "from the Water-Curtain Cave of the Flower-Fruit Mountain in the Aolai Country." " G o back there quickly and save your life," the Patriarch said. " Y o u cannot possibly remain here!" (XYJ

2.23-24;

T h e patriarch knows that Monkey does not belong there and that he will cause some disaster sooner or later. He forbids Monkey from telling others that he has been his disciple.

6o

CHAPTER 3

Monkey therefore goes back to Flower-Fruit Mountain, where he builds his power base. He wreaks havoc in the world of the dragons (naga)—in mythology the guardians of treasures (ratna)—and finds the iron rod, which is to become his trademark weapon. The cudgel, growing and shrinking at his will, also symbolizes the attribute of the mind (xin zhi cai). In the underworld (the realm presided over by King Yama) and in the Taoist heaven (the abode of the Jade Emperor), he causes upheavals. After disturbing heaven, Monkey declares himself the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Scholars in China see in Monkey's rebellion an embodiment of a revolutionary spirit. For Monkey, his emotions have clouded his true nature, so his rebellion is an expression of a boundless hubris that has to be tamed. As a poem describing his fight with the Taoist gods in the heavens has it: T u m b l i n g round and round, Bright and luminous; A form everlasting, h o w imitated by men? H e cannot be burned by fire. C a n he ever be drowned in water? A lustrous pearl of mani he is indeed, Immune to all the spears and the swords. He could be good; H e could be bad; Present g o o d and evil he could d o at will. Immortal he'll be in goodness or a Buddha, But working ill, he's covered by hair and horn. Endless changing he runs amok in Heaven, Not to be seized by fighting lords or thunder gods. (XYJ"].%0\ JWv.Yjo)

Clearly this round object is the human mind/heart, with its potential for both good and bad. Doing good, Monkey is none other than a Buddha or immortal; doing evil, he becomes a beast, a lower being. Concerning this poem about Monkey, Huang Zhouxing comments, "This is a picture of the mind/heart, its eulogy and its motto" (ZDS 7.63). Since the Taoist deities cannot control him, as a last resort they ask Buddha, in the Western Paradise, to subdue him. Buddha comes to the rescue at a critical moment. Monkey boasts of his prowess, that he can travel 108,000 miles in one somersault, but the Buddha says that he cannot escape from his palm. A wager is thus laid, and Monkey leaps away. However, Buddha's palm proves larger. Buddha finally throws Monkey far away and buries him under the Five-Elements Mountain. Akira Sadakata writes, "This reflects the world of the Flower Garland

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Sutra [Huayan jingj, where every phenomenon is located within the buddhaworld."44 In other words, the universe in that sutra emanates from Buddha. Furthermore, only Buddha has the power to tame the human mind/heart; thus, by implication, only Buddhism can manage that endeavor.45 Meanwhile, the omnipotent Buddha has a plan of his own. Afterfivehundred years, a pilgrim to India will rescue Monkey, who will then redeem himself by becoming the religious figure's chief disciple, protecting him with all his powers and thereby making possible the mission to the West.46

T H E JOURNEY CONTINUED:

TRIPITAKA

Xiyouji can be roughly divided into three parts: first, chapters 1-7, about Monkey Sun Wukong; second, chapters 8-12, about Tripitaka's early life, his childhood, and the Tang emperor's descent into the underworld and his resurrection, the reason for the westward mission; and finally, the remaining eighty-eight chapters, the western trek proper,47 although critics differ as to which chapter constitutes the beginning of the journey.48 Here, I would like to divide the book into two parts, the second part beginning with chapter 8, because the preparation for the westward pilgrimage is made in this chapter, and because the events in chapters 8-12 lead directly to thejourney. This is only a division of convenience, because, as will be demonstrated later, all the characters are intrinsically connected. To some extent, Tripitaka's life reminds us of the life of a protagonist in a deliverance play. As is common in such plays, Tripitaka is also afigurein the supernatural world. In his former life he had been one of the Buddha's disciples, called Gold Cicada (Jinchanzi). But because he was not attentive ..o one of Buddha's sermons, he was banished to the East to atone for his negligence and his breach of discipline. Like other figures in deliverance plays, he will eventually return to his former existence, perhaps to take on a more elevated position in the Buddhist pantheon. His life experiences are summarized in a poem: Gold Cicada was his former divine name. A s heedless he was of the Buddha's talk, He had to suffer in this world of dust, T o fall in the net by being born a man. He met misfortune as he came to Earth, A n d evildoers even before his birth. (XYJ

1 1 . 1 4 6 - 1 4 7 ; J V K 1:263)

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CHAPTER 3

The last two lines refer to the tragic incidents surrounding his birth. His father, the most successful candidate in the civil service examination and the husband of the prime minister's daughter, is killed by robbers. One of them assumes his father's identity and forces himself upon his mother, who is already pregnant. Having no escape and determined to protect the child, Tripitaka's mother succumbs to the robber. The birth of the child is related to Buddhist deities: he is sent by the bodhisattva Guanyin to the couple who are to become his parents. When the child is born, the robber insists that he be killed. The mother puts the baby in a basket and sets it afloat on the river, clearly a variation of the motif about the birth of a hero.49 Rescued by a monk, the child begins a life within the Buddhist fold long before he is able to remember anything; he later becomes a monk well versed in the Buddhist tradition. Finally, he contrives to avenge his father's death with the help of the Tang emperor Taizong and the prime minister, his grandfather. His father, meanwhile, is rescued by the dragon king of the river into which the robbers had thrown him. The members of the family reunite. The young monk, however, refuses to take civil positions and insists upon devoting his life to religion. At this point, the karmic destinies of different characters intersect and converge, an outcome ofwhich is the central event of the novel. First, one of Emperor Taizong's ministers, Wei Zheng, executes the dragon king of the River Wei for the breach of the Jade Emperor's decree. The dragon, however, has secured the emperor's promise to intervene and save his life. In an episode bordering on the fantastic and absurd, Wei Zheng kills the dragon in his dream. The dragon blames the emperor for the loss of his life and goes to the underworld to complain to King Yama. Emperor Taizong is then summoned to the underworld, undergoing death and witnessing the sufferings of hell that result from moral decay. Meanwhile, Wei Zheng, who in popular belief is conceived as having supernatural resources, succeeds in bribing an underworld clerk to engineer the emperor's release. The emperor then returns to the world of the living. He is told to sponsor religious ceremonies to placate the suffering ghosts in hell, including ghosts of those he has killed in battles and political maneuvers. The emperor thereupon holds a grand ceremony. The monk chosen to deliver the sermon and preside over the ceremony is none other than Tripitaka. At the same time Buddha sends the bodhisattva Guanyin to the East to find someone to travel to the West for scriptures that will have the power to deliver sentient beings from suffering. The bodhisattva and her disciple and guard transform themselves into two shabby-looking, deformed mendicant monks and then take on the role of deliverers, as in plays of deliverance. The bodhisattva faults Tripitaka on

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his preaching and tells him about the Mahayana scriptures being kept by the Buddha. The monk vows to go to the West to fetch them. Ever since he was exiled to earth, fetching scriptures has been the focus of Tripitaka's life. As a matter of fact, he has been cannibalized nine times in his nine incarnations by a monster, Sha Monk, who is later to become one of his disciples, before he is to succeed in this life.50 This is explicitly stated. The monster tells the bodhisattva Guanyin: Bodhisattva, I have devoured countless human beings at this place. There have been a number of scripture pilgrims here, and I ate all of them. The heads of those I devoured I threw into the [River] Flowing Sand, and they sank to the bottom, for such is the nature of this water that not even goose down can float on it. But the skulls of the nine pilgrims floated on the water and would not sink. Regarding them as something unusual, I chained them together with a rope and played with them at my leisure. ( X Y J 8.95; JW 1:190)

The bodhisattva instructs him: "[T]ake the skulls and hang them round your neck. When the scripture pilgrim arrives, there will be a use for them." The pilgrims in fact do use the nine skulls, which, together with a gourd from the bodhisattva Guanyin, are made into a "dharma vessel" with which they are ferried across the river. Although the Ming edition attributed to Wu Cheng'en does not give more details about the skulls, it hints at the connection between the nine skulls and Tripitaka in a poem: "He [the monster] can recognize his former master" {XYJ 22.285; JW 1:441). In Xiyouji Tripitaka is in his tenth incarnation. Early in thisjourney to the West he recruits Sun Wukong at the Mountain of Two Frontiers (Liangjie shan). The significance of this mountain is noted by Plaks.51 The mountain is the border of the Tang. Symbolically, climbing this mountain signifies for Tripitaka the venturing into new territories, other lands, and the visionary landscape of wilderness. This mountain, however, is also the Mountain of Five Phases the Buddha has used to subdue Sun Wukong and is therefore significant to Sun Wukong as well. It stands for his new life, his renunciation of Taoism to embrace Buddhism, a division in his life, too. Along the way Tripitaka recruits the dragon horse, Pigsy (Zhu Bajie), and Sha Monk. Here, the separate paths of different pilgrims converge into the journey to the West. In the novel only the paths of Sun Wukong and Tripitaka are detailed, whereas those of the others are summarized in flashbacks. The pilgrimage is fraught with difficulty. The wayfarers travel through the wilderness on a road never trod before, and they must cross numerous mountains

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and rivers, which often calls for superhuman effort. Furthermore, as Sun Wukong says, calamity awaits the travelers at every step, as they encounter monsters and demons, spirits and ghosts, always at the ready to sabotage the endeavor or devour the pilgrims alive. In short, this is a very hostile world, and the monk carries on in a state of perpetual trepidation. The episodes, though somewhat repetitious, are nevertheless filled with the new and exhilarating, even the hilarious, for there is never a lack of suspense and surprise. Readers over the centuries have been entertained by the humor and laughter and awed by the grandeur and sublimity. Along the way, male demons plot to capture the Tang monk and eat his flesh, while female demons strive to copulate with him. Having practiced austerity and led a chaste life throughout ten incarnations, Tripitaka is so pure that a slice of his flesh or a drop of his semen bestows immortality. The resourceful demons often come from the supernatural world, the Taoist heaven or Buddhist sacred places; they possess treasures that they use as weapons, often stolen from the supernatural realms, that can cow even other supernatural figures. Sometimes the monsters' plans are frustrated by Sun Wukong, but in such an event they resort to other schemes—for instance, sowing discord among the pilgrims. Sometimes a monster may succeed initially, his powers exceeding those of Sun Wukong or the combined resources of the pilgrims, or even the added powers of supernatural figures whom Sun Wukong has enlisted to help. Tripitaka is captured; occasionally all the pilgrims are captured, thus leaving Sun Wukong to devise his escape and to find help. But to do this he must know the history of the demon and who a proper match would be. A supernatural figure, often a bodhisattva, generally comes to the rescue at the last moment. And finally the pilgrims resume theirjourney, only to be interrupted by another monster or another seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Let us consider chapters 56-61, for example, for their significance in the intertextual discussions. After overcoming the Scorpion Spirit, the pilgrims encounter a band of robbers, two of whom are killed by Sun Wukong. Extremely displeased with the act, the monk threatens to expel him. Soon after, while seeking hospitality from a villager, Sun Wukong is again found by the robbers, who plot to take his life. After Sun Wukong kills another robber, he is expelled by Tripitaka. Sun Wukong then makes his way to the South Sea, the dwelling place of the bodhisattva Guanyin, to lodge a complaint. Guanyin asks him to stay there for a while. A monster, a Sun Wukong's double, comes and wounds Tripitaka, grabs his luggage, and goes back to the Flower-Fruit Mountain. The monster prepares to go West on his own. The pilgrims, at a loss as to what to do, decide that Sha Monk must go to the Flower-Fruit Mountain to remonstrate with Sun

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Wukong. Sha Monk sees the false pilgrim and is driven away by him. He goes to the South Sea to enlist the bodhisattva Guanyin's help and sees Sun Wukong. T h e bodhisattva sends the two of them back to the Flower-Fruit Mountain to investigate. There they find the false Sun Wukong, and the real one begins to fight with the imposter. Each claims to be the real Sun Wukong and accuses the other ofbeing the false one. They fight all the way to the South Sea, and the bodhisattva cannot distinguish between them. She sends them direcdy to the Taoist heaven, where Sun Wukong had wrought havoc five hundred years previously, but neither the Jade Emperor nor other divine figures there can tell the true from the false. Next they go to Tripitaka, who is also unable to tell them apart. T h e two Wukongs fight their way to the underworld, but the rulers there are equally powerless. They are sent to the Buddha and fight their way to the Spirit Mountain. There the Buddha distinguishes between the real and the fake, whereupon the true Wukong kills the false one. Buddha asks the bodhisattva Guanyin, who hurried to the Spirit Mountain for this matter, to accompany Sun Wukong back to his master. T h e pilgrims, once united, can continue on their journey. Back on the road, the pilgrims find their path blocked by a range of flaming mountains. T h e Mountain of Flames, however, came into existence at the time Sun Wukong wrought havoc in heaven. When he came out of Laozi's cauldron, he kicked some of the bricks supporting it. One of them fell to the ground and set the range afire. But to reach the Spirit Mountain, the pilgrims have no choice but to pass through this eight-hundred-mile area. As Sun Wukong's first attempt to borrow the Palm-Leaf Fan—the only means of extinguishing the fire—is frustrated, there occurs an interesting conversation that underlines their dilemma: "If the fire's so intense," said Sha Monk, "and there's no way to get to the West, what's to be done?" "Let's head for the direction where there is no fire," said Bajie. "Which direction?" asked Tripitaka. Bajie said, "There is no fire in the east, the south, the north." "But which direction has scriptures?" Tripitaka asked again, and Bajie said, "The West." "I only want to go where the scriptures are," said Tripitaka. Sha Monk said, "Where there are scriptures, there's fire. Where there's no fire, there are no scriptures. We are in some dilemma!" ( X l ^ 59764; JWy.^Q)

Monkey makes two more attempts, and finally, with supernatural help, he procures the fan and extinguishes the fire. T h e pilgrims continue along, only to encounter other obstacles, more trials, ordeals, and sufferings.

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According to the bodhisattva's reckoning, Tripitaka's life is a series of ordeals, eighty-one in all,52 a play on the mystical numerology of nine squared equals eightyone. The number harks back to chapter 1, the section on the creation—or rather the evolution—of the universe, where such numbers abound. Or, this may be another way of conveying how unimaginable his suffering is, since nine is the largest singledigit integer, and nine times nine signifies a number of mysterious proportions.53 If the book is to be interpreted as an allegory of Taoist alchemy, then this may refer to the ninefold intensification of the nine turns in the elixir making (jiuzhuanjindan).54 In the end, when they finally reach the Spirit Mountain, the supernatural figures who guard the monk report to the bodhisattva Guanyin, "The Tang monk, after all, had endured unspeakable sufferings" (XYJ 99.1243;^^4:398). In this regard the Qing critic You Tong compares Tripitaka's journey with Sudhana's, the youth's fiftythree visitations, although the encounters along the road are as different as can be. T h e trials and ordeals can be seen to represent attempts to cross the sea of suffering, the sea of life and death—hence the importance of the crossing scenes.55 T o name the most important crossing scenes, when the five sages gather together for the first time, they cross the Flowing-Sand River—where even a feather will s i n k on a "dharma vessel" made up of the skulls of the nine pilgrims, who are Tripitaka's nine previous incarnations (chap. 22). In the middle of the journey, they cross the Heaven-Reaching River. At the end of the journey, they come across the Divine Cloud-Transcending Stream, where they are greeted by the conductor Buddha. Only Sun Wukong recognizes him, disguised as a ferryman with a bottomless boat. When his master hesitates, Sun Wukong almost forces him onto the boat: A s they all stood on the gunwale, the Buddhist Patriarch gently punted the vessel away from shore. All at once they saw a corpse floating down the upstream, the sight of which filled the elder with terror. "Don't be afraid, Master," said Pilgrim, laughing. "It's actually you!" "It's you! It's you!" said Bajie also. Clapping his hands, Sha Monk also said, "That's you!" Adding the voice to the chorus, the boatman also said, "That's you! Congratulations! Congratulations!" T h e n the three disciples repeated this chanting in unison as the boat was punted across the water. In no time at all, they crossed the Divine Cloud-Transcending Stream all safe and sound. Only then did Tripitaka turn and skip lighdy on to the other shore. ( X T ? 98.1232;^^4:384)

In a way, this passage summarizes the entire book: in terms of deliverance plays, they have been trying to cross the bitter sea of suffering, of life and death. Finally,

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the master gains a new body, with his old, defiled body discarded. By this time, the journey is almost over. What remains is to pay homage to the Buddha and bring the scriptures to China. In this process, they have become buddhas and bodhisattvas. Most striking is the similarity between the ascension of the bodhisattva Guanyin in chapter 12 and that of the pilgrims in chapter 100: Emperor Taizong and his subjects witness both and pay homage to the respective parties accordingly. T h e novel ends with a grand assembly at Buddha's dwelling, the apotheosis of the pilgrims and the dragon horse. T h e y have now become equal to Buddhas and bodhisattvas, just as Sudhana does in a different experience on the road.

R E A L OR I L L U S O R Y : N E C E S S I T Y OF T H E J O U R N E Y

T h e bulk of the novel consists of a series of such episodes. T h e narrative, however, is not as naive and innocent as this may make it sound. T h e interpretative key involves fathoming the nature of the journey, since the journey is both its structure and its subject. First, given the ubiquitous emphasis on the human mind, have the pilgrims actually taken the journey, or has everything just happened in their mind, like a grand display of the Buddha's meditation? Second, if the journey has actually taken place, is it necessary or justifiable in philosophical and religious terms? Added to this is the repetition embedded in the general pattern of events and episodes in varying degrees. Another set of questions follows: Is there a telos—does the journey actually lead anywhere? Is it linear, circular, or otherwise? Since the journey aims at some form of enlightenment, the answers are necessarily dependent on the nature of this enlightenment. Journey and enlightenment become interrelated, inseparable issues. In Chinese Buddhist terms we might logically ask, is it sudden or gradual? As for the journey, has it really taken place? Each pilgrim has a history of transgressions: Sun Wukong's is spelled out in detail, Tripitaka's is narrated at some length, and those of the others are revealed in flashbacks. Thejourney is therefore one of redemption for all of them, like that of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's (1772-1834) ancient mariner. Karma, either as reward or retribution, plays a significant role here and has been etched into the structure of the novel:" [I] t is a matter of achieving merit for each one ofus individually" (XYJ23.289; JWv.446)?6

For Sun Wukong and the other disciples ofTripitaka,

this has been prophesied by the bodhisattva Guanyin. She tells Monkey to wait for

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a pilgrim from the East: "He will be told to come and rescue you, and you can follow him as a disciple. You can keep the teachings and hold the rosary to enter our gate of Buddha, so that you may again cultivate the fruit of righteousness" (XYJ 8.99; J W 1:196). To Sha Monk, the bodhisattva says, "Why don't you come into my fold, take refuge in good works, and follow the scripture pilgrim as his disciple when he goes to the Western Heaven to ask Buddha for the scriptures? . . . At the time when you achieve merit, your sin will be expatiated and you will be restored to your former position" (XYJ 8.94-95; JWi:l§a). Zhu Bajie is told, "You can follow him [the scripture pilgrim] as his disciple and make a trip to the Western Heaven; your merits will cancel out your sins, and you will surely be delivered from your calamities" (XYJ&.Q"]\JWi:i§2>)- F ° r Tripitaka, the dialogue between Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie best summarizes this scheme. On the road, Tripitaka becomes seriously ill for three days, the significance of which is underlined in this conversation. Sun Wukong tells Zhu Bajie: " Y o u don't realize that Master was the second disciple of our Buddha Tathagata, and originally he was called Elder Gold Cicada. Because he slighted the L a w , he was fated to experience this great ordeal." " O Elder Brother," said Bajie, "even if Master did slight the L a w , he had already been banished back to the Land of East where he took on human form in the field of slander and the sea of strife. After he made his vow to worship Buddha and seek scriptures in the Western Heaven, he was bound whenever he ran into monster-spirits and he was hung high whenever he met up with demons. Hasn't he suffered enough? W h y must he endure sickness as well?" " Y o u wouldn't know about this," replied Pilgrim. " O u r old master fell asleep while listening to Buddha expounding the Law. A s he slumped to one side, his left foot kicked down one grain of rice. T h a t is why he is fated to suffer three days' illness after he has arrived at the Region Below." 5 7 ( X K 7 8 1 . 1 0 3 1 ; J W ^ - . q o )

Tripitaka's pilgrimage, apart from an atonement for his own transgressions and a cleansing of his own karma, has a collective dimension as well, as an atonement for the sins committed by the people ofJambudvipa—in the geography of this novel, China. The purpose for fetching the scriptures, as conceived by Emperor Taizong, the sponsor of the mission, is none other than to find the means of deliverance for the dead who find themselves in the underworld as a result ofwars and political strife in which the emperor had played a significant part. Before the Buddha mentions the scriptures, he compares the peoples of the four continents and their general moral condition:

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I have watched the Four Great Continents, and the morality of their inhabitants varies from place to place. Those living on the East Purvavideha revere Heaven and Earth, and they are straightforward and peaceful. Those on the North Uttarakuru, though they love to destroy life, do so out of the necessity of a livelihood. Moreover, they are rather dull of mind and lethargic in spirit, and they are not likely to do much harm. Those of our West Aparagodanlya are neither covetous nor prone to kill; they control their humor and temper their spirit. There is, to be sure, no illuminate of the first order, but everyone is certain to attain longevity. Those who reside in the South Jambudvipa, however, are prone to practice lechery and delight in evildoing, indulging in much slaughter and strife. Indeed, they are all caught in the treacherous field of tongue and mouth, in the wicked sea of slander and malice.58 (.XYJ 8.91; J W 1:184) He continues, telling his audience that he has three baskets of scriptures: They are the scriptures for the cultivation of truth; they are the gate to ultimate goodness. I myself would like to send these to the Land of the East [China]; but the creatures in that region are so stupid and scornful of the truth that they ignore the weighty element of our Law and mock the true sect of Yoga. T h e following stresses the need for someone extraordinary to make the trip and endure innumerable hardships for the sake of the scriptures: Somehow we need a person with power to go to the Land of the East and find a virtuous believer. He will be asked to experience the bitter travail of passing through a thousand mountains and ten thousand waters to come here in quest of the authentic scriptures, so that they may be forever implanted in the east to enlighten the people. T h e requirement, though embedded in the structure of the novel, is not easily understood; even Sun Wukong finds himself confused at times. On one occasion, when he is fooled by the rumor fabricated by a demon that Tripitaka has been devoured alive, he begins to blame the Buddha himself, complaining that the Buddha could have sent the scriptures to the East: This has to be all the fault of our Buddha Tathagata! Sitting idly in that region of ultimate bliss, he had nothing better to do than to dream up those three baskets of scriptures! If he truly cared about the proclamation of virtue, he should have sent the scriptures to the Land of the East. Wouldn't his name then be an

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everlasting glory? But he wouldn't part with them readily, and all he knew was to ask us to go seek them. ( X f ^ 77.990; 7^4=30) Still, this insistence on making the trip personally also implies that one's salvation depends upon direct existential experience; one must live through his own salvation, as we saw in Chapter 2 in regards to Sudhana. Learnings and doctrines, then, are not as important as direct participation in the process of salvation, however interpreted. Thus, Tripitaka must walk to the Spirit Mountain, literally stepby-step, and cover a distance of 108,000 miles. Oddly, he is the least physically able of the pilgrims. T h e others are all endowed with some supernatural powers— they can fly. Even the dragon horse can ride the clouds. In one somersault, Sun Wukong can cover 108,000 miles, the distance from China to the Western Paradise. Tripitaka is not to be carried on their backs to the Western Paradise, however; he must traverse all the mountains and rivers. Only the master is able to fetch the scripture, as the Buddha will not entrust it to anyone else. Indeed, the pilgrims discuss this issue when the road is blocked by a monster. Zhu Bajie asks Sun Wukong, "[A] 11 you need to do is to carry the Master on your back: nod your head, stretch your waist, and j u m p across. Why continue to fight this monster?" T h e fact is, they cannot carry Tripitaka even if he so wishes, the monk being mortal. As Sun Wukong explains: [I] fit is this kind of magic, old Monkey knows every trick well, including becoming invisible and making distances shorter. But it is required of Master to go through all these strange territories before he finds deliverance from the sea of sorrows; hence even one step turns out to be difficult. You and I are only his protective companions, guarding his body and life, but we cannot exempt him from the woes, nor can we obtain the scriptures all by ourselves. Even if we had the ability to go and see Buddha first, he would not bestow the scriptures on you and me. {XYJ 22.282; JW 1:436) So no one can take Tripitaka's place, and no one can complete the mission on his behalf. Huang Zhouxing also makes this point with a great measure of humor at the expense of a pedantic Confucian. T h e context is Sun Wukong's return of the treasures—trophies he has taken, which can be used as weapons—to Laozi, their original owner: A pedantic Confucian scholar read about the return of the treasures to Laozi, and sighed, "What a pity! What a pity! If the five treasures had not been re-

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turned to Laozi, all the demons along the road to the Western Paradise could have been vanquished without the exertion of any effort." A man of Tao laughingly replied, "Laozi might not have wanted these treasures back; it is Pilgrim who insisted that they be returned." The scholar asked, "How so?" "The treasures that Pilgrim has within himself," the man of Tao answered, "are simply inexhaustible. Moreover, he does not even have to use them. If they were to reach the Western Paradise safely, steadily, and faster, he could, with all his magic powers, have transfixed the demons, made Tripitaka invisible, moved the mountains away, and shortened the distance, so that Tripitaka could have been whisked to the Thunderclap Temple. What use does he have for these treasures?" The pedantic Confucian scholar was confounded: "If so, why hadn't Pilgrim made use of his magic powers?" "That," the man of Tao answered, "even I can't explain." (ZDS 35.293) Each pilgrim has his own particular path destined for him; the master has his, the disciples have theirs. Moreover, their karmas are intertwined and they are dependent on each other. T h u s , upon finally reaching the sacred mountain, Tripitaka thanks his disciples. T o this Sun W u k o n g replies, We two parties need not thank each other, for we are meant to support each other. We are indebted to our master for our liberation, through which we have found the gateway to the making of merit, and fortunately we have achieved the right fruit. Our master also has to rely on our protection so that he may be firm in keeping both law and faith to find the happy deliverance from this mortal Stock. (^5^798.1233^1^4:384-385) T h e journey is, it seems, necessary, 59 even though the end may be ironic; the hostile world the pilgrims pass through is real—a world of life and death, of love and hate, of desire, strife, and suffering, where danger looms at every step. W h e n something goes awry, their lives are literally at risk. T h e contrivance of the journey on the part of Buddhist divinities only adds to its difficulty, rather than distracting from it. Yet there hovers above the pilgrims an air of the fantastic, the unreal. First, there is Tripitaka's own statement at the outset. T h e monks at his temple are worried for him, fearing thejourney will be beset with difficulties and blocked by monsters and evil spirits. He points his finger at his own heart and nods his head several times. W h e n no one understands him, he explains, " W h e n the mind is active, all kinds of mara come into existence; when the mind is extinguished, all

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kinds of mara will be extinguished" {XYJ 13.160; JW 1:283). This statement is modeled after Dachengqixin lun—"When the mind is active, all kinds of phenomena come into existence; when the mind is extinguished, all kinds of phenomena will be extinguished"60—and is well attested in other scriptures, for instance, Xin jing. Xiyouji, with its decided emphasis on the human mind, invites such an interpretation, which is followed by a number of eminent scholars.61 Second, there is the double role that the divine figures play throughout in the book. On the one hand, bodhisattvas and other supernatural figures are there to help the pilgrims unconditionally; this is promised to Sun Wukong and his master, Tripitaka. On the other hand, however, because many demons and monsters seem to have divine connections, the trials and ordeals appear to be divine contrivances. They look like pranks that can be understood both sublimely and cynically. T w o instances illustrate this point. First, Laozi's two pages descend to the Region Below to become monsters, bringing with them the Taoist deity's treasures as weapons. When Laozi comes to claim these treasures and the two pages, Sun Wukong confronts him, blaming him—along with other deities—for his negligence. "It's really not my affair," said Laozi, "so don't blame the wrong person. These youths were requested by the Bodhisattva from the sea three times; they were to be sent here, transformed into demons, to test all of you and see whether master and disciples are sincere in going to the West." When the Great Sage [Sun Wukong] heard these words, he thought to himself, "What a rogue is this Bodhisattva! At the time when she delivered old Monkey and told me to accompany the Tang monk to procure scriptures in the West, I said that the journey would be a difficult one. She even promised that she herself would come to rescue us when we encounter difficulties, but instead, she sent monster-spirits here to harass us. The way she double-talks, she deserves to be a spinster for the rest of her life!" (XI735.456; 7^2:162)

The other episode occurs when Sun Wukong learns that the monster who has masqueraded as the Buddha to ensnare the pilgrims is actually the bodhisattva Maitreya's page in charge of striking a sonorous stone before him. Thus, Pilgrim shouted: "Dear laughing priest! You let this boy escape to give himself the false name of Buddhist patriarch and to ensnare old Monkey. Aren't you guilty of negligence in domestic governance?" "It is my negligence in the first place," said Maitreya, "but it is also because you and your master have yet to pass through all your mara hindrances. That is why a hundred deities must descend to inflict upon you your fated ordeals." (XYJ 66.487; JW$\266)

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These passages operate on at least three levels. First, the pilgrims have to go through such ordeals, as is determined by their karma. Second, the ordeals are also the prerequisite of the pilgrimage: Tripitaka has to go through the fated ordeals so as to complete his mission. Third, even bodhisattvas and divine figures serve as agents in this scheme. Thus, they are both the rescuers of the pilgrims and inflictors of calamity. Indeed, the infliction of such misadventures is a part of salvation. In chapter 23, for example, four bodhisattvas transform themselves into women to test the resoluteness of the pilgrims. But the other episodes are not merely tests. Rather, they are graver than that, being part and parcel of the salvation design. Apparently, the two views of calamities—real or illusory—are in conflict, and critics, from the earliest onward (e.g., Y o u Tong), seem to lean toward the notion of illusion, given the novel's emphasis on the human mind. This interpretation tends to regard everything as happening in the mind of the pilgrims or a certain pilgrim. In Plaks' analysis, this "quest narrative" should be read conditionally, "not as a kind of literal 'Pilgrim's Progress,'... but rather as an internal pilgrimage of the mind." 62 However, every work dealing with a quest can be read this way, even John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress;63 to be complete a quest must lead one inward. My argument is that both elements are present in the book and vie for our attention, and they manifest two truths,64 the ultimate and the conventional, or provisional. Xiyouji

succeeds in finally reconciling the two views. O n the one

hand, the calamities are as real as all other phenomena, and the lives of the pilgrims are constantly at risk. It is a world of life and death, of grave consequences. This is true provisionally. On the other hand, as is maintained by Buddhists, the world does not have inherent reality ultimately; in this sense, all the demons and consequent calamities arise from their own individual mind. But this takes personal, existential effort to prove, to yield meaning in an individual's life. One of the aims of enlightenment is an existential realization of this. Thus, although Tripitaka mentions the connection between demons (mara) and the mind at the outset of his journey, he is, ironically, the last person to make it relevant to his life. So considered, to regard everything as happening in the mind—although true on a certain level—is likely to confuse the initial stage of the journey with the final one. T h e pilgrims, when they are apotheosized, will certainly look back at their journey in this way, but along the way, even Sun Wukong cries bitterly over the rumored death of Tripitaka. T h e alien and hostile world is not merely a clever contrivance, a phantasmagoria that will dissipate into thin air, through which they glide without having to fear any consequences. T o argue whether the calamities

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are real or unreal is our problem, not of those who make the journey. To them, the calamities are no doubt real, and they pay for them dearly. The argument of illusion, taken to extremes, minimizes the gravity of the issue of redemption and expatiation. At the same time, there might also be a confusion of the vehicle and tenor, a pitfall in allegorical reading and interpretation. Certainly we can regard thejourney as a vehicle and read it allegorically, saying that all the calamities originated in the human mind. But it is quite another thing to say that they are not real. This forms a neat parallel with Huayan jing's Rufajie pin, concerning which there is also this question: is Sudhana's pilgrimage a mental one, like a grand display in the meditations of the Buddha, in which the sutra abound? Mark Allen Ehman responds to this question, "The external world of the [Gandavyuha] is a real world—a world in which loving, living, yearning and dying occurs,"65 a world as "real" as ours.

G R A D U A L OR SUDDEN: INTERPRETATIONS OF THE J O U R N E Y AND E N L I G H T E N M E N T

The above discussions lead inevitably to a consideration of the nature of enlightenment, another set of tensions in this narrative: is it sudden or gradual?66 We need first to revisit the most famous representation of these two views in China, recorded in Tan jing (Platform sutra), a scripture alluded to in the scene of Patriarch Subodhi's (Subhuti, Xuputi) transmission of the Dharma to Sun Wukong, because the metaphor—which is also a paradigm—can be applied to our discussion of this novel. When the Fifth Patriarch felt it was time to transmit the Dharma—to choose a successor—he asked all the monks to compose a gatha to showcase their understanding of the teaching and the extent of their enlightenment. One of his disciples, Shenxiu (686-760), the most hopeful, wrote the following on a wall: T h e body is the Bodhi tree, T h e mind is like a clear mirror. At all times we must strive to polish it, And must not let the dust collect.''7

The gatha caused a stir among the community. The Fifth Patriarch felt that it fell short of complete understanding. At that time, Huineng (638-713), who would become the Sixth Patriarch, was laboring in the kitchen. When he overheard the

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monks discussing the gatha, he asked them to lead him to the site and had the following written there (he was reputed to be illiterate): Bodhi originally has no tree, The mirror also has no stand. Buddha nature is always clean and pure; Where is there room for dust?

and/or T h e mind is the Bodhi tree, The body is the mirror stand. The mirror is originally clean and pure; Where can it be stained by dust?f,K

The verse by Shenxiu is generally regarded as an exposition of the gradual approach. The body is a bodhi tree, the mind is a bright mirror, but the tree is defiled and the mirror dusty. One should therefore take efforts to clean and "polish the mirror," as only then will enlightenment come. To Huineng, however, the mirror is intrinsically clean, so how can there be dust in the first place? His approach is to reach the source of enlightenment, the Buddha nature that is inherent in all living beings. The first approach takes effort and time, guidance and cultivation, whereas the second, while distrusting doctrines, programs, regimens, or anything that has a form, aims at instantaneous illumination, taking very unorthodox measures and targeting those of superior intellectual gifts. At that moment, all the karmas are dissolved, all the veils lifted, bringing one face-to-face with the ultimate reality of existence. There is no karma, no veil, no bodhi tree, no mirror at all. As is recorded in Tanjing, Huineng is using Shenxiu's gatha as a foil: the metaphors are the same, but he is redirecting them. In Xiyouji, both ideals vie for our attention. We can take the following poem as an example of the sudden approach. Ask at the site of meditation, How it is that even endless exercise Often leads only to empty old age! Polishing bricks to make a mirror, Hoarding snow to use as f o o d s t u f f How many young persons are thus deceived? A feather swallows the great ocean?

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A mustard seed contains the Sumeru? The Golden Dhuta is gently smiling. Enlightened, one transcends the ten stages and three vehicles. The sluggards must join the four creatures and six ways. Who has heard below the Thoughtless Cliff, Beneath the Shadowless Tree, The cuckoo's one call greeting the dawn of spring? In that hour, Once you penetrate to the origin, You'll see the three jewels and the Dragon King. (XYJ 8.88 \JW 1:180)

The author is concerned that many practitioners of the religion are consumed in endless exercises—doctrinal, meditative, or otherwise. These exercises may amount to "polishing bricks to make a mirror." True enlightenment, the only way to Buddhahood, however, "transcends ten stages and vehicles." It comes suddenly, like a cuckoo greeting a spring dawn. Another element in the narrative that points toward a sudden interpretation is the location of the Spirit Mountain and the nature of theirjourney. Toward the end of the book Sun Wukong discusses with his master Xinjing (Heart sutra), an exercise that recurs to the delight of Monkey. Sun Wukong recites this gaiha: Seek not afar for Buddha on Spirit Mount; Mount Spirit lives only in your mind. There's in each man a Spirit Mount stupa; Beneath there the Great Art must be refined. {XYJ 85.1080; JW 4:159)

In his own amplification, [W]hen the mind is pure, it shines forth as a solitary lamp, and when the mind is secure, the entire phenomenal world becomes clarified. The tiniest error, however, makes for the way to slothfulness, and then you'll never succeed even in ten thousand years. Maintain the vigilance with the utmost sincerity, and Thunderclap will be right before your eyes. ( Z l ^ 85.1080; ^^4:159)

On the literary level the Spirit Mountain is an amalgamation of both India, as described in Buddhist scriptures, travelogues, and legends, and the Western Paradise presided over by Amitabha (Emituo Fo), the most important Buddha in the

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Pure L a n d (Jingtu) sect. O n another level, Thunderclap T e m p l e and the Spirit Mountain are psychological settings rather than an actual, physical locality. T h i s , interestingly, corresponds to a passage in Tanjing:

the Pure L a n d does not mean

a specific physical locale; it is something within the human mind. In this sutra a mandarin asked for Huineng's elucidation of the relevance of worshiping the Western Paradise: The prefect bowed deeply and asked: "I notice that some monks and laymen always invoke the Buddha Amitabha and desire to be reborn in the West. I beg of you to explain whether one can be born there or not, and thus resolve my doubts." The Master said: "Prefect, listen and I shall explain things for you. At Sravasti the World-honored One preached of the Western Land in order to convert people, and it is clearly stated in the sutra, '[The Western Land] is not far.' It was only for the sake of people of inferior capacity that the Buddha spoke of farness; to speak of nearness is only for those of superior attainments. Although in man there are naturally two types, in the Dharma there is no inequality. In delusion and awakening there is a difference, as may be seen in slowness and fastness of understanding. The deluded person concentrates on Buddha and wishes to be born in the other land; the awakened person makes pure his own mind. Therefore the Buddha said: 'In accordance with the purity of the mind the Buddha Land is pure.' "Prefect, people of the East [China], just by making the mind pure, are without crime; people of the West [The Pure Land of the West], if their minds are not pure, are guilty of a crime. The deluded person wishes to be born in the East or West, [for the enlightened person] any land is just the same. If only the mind has no impurity, the Western Land is not far. If the mind gives rise to impurities, even though you invoke the Buddha and seek to be reborn [in the West], it will be difficult to reach. If you eliminate the ten evils you will proceed one hundred thousand li; if you do away with the eight improper practices you will pass across eight thousand li. But if you practice straightforward mind, you will arrive there in an instant." 69 T h u s , when asked on another occasion about the remaining distance to the Spirit Mountain, Sun Wukong tells his master: You can walk from the time of your youth till the time you grow old, and after that, till you become youthful again; and even after going through such a cycle a thousand times, you may still find it difficult to reach the place you want to go

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to. But when you perceive, by the resoluteness of your will, the Buddha-nature in all things, and when every one of your thoughts goes to its very source in your memory, that will be the time you arrive at the Spirit Mountain. (XYJ 24-304; JW1:463-464) Huang Zhouxing comments, " T h e deluded, even when they reach the Western Paradise, have not left East, so to speak; the enlightened, even if they stay in the East, have already arrived in the W e s t . . . . H o w can one say that Chang'an is not right by the Spirit Mountain?" 70 Considered in this way, the Spirit Mountain is both far and near, depending on an individual's state of mind. T h e words of a monster in Taoist garb (who does little harm other than detaining Tripitaka so as to talk about the T a o and compose poetry) may be of some relevance if taken out of context (he is defending Taoism): " N o w , the T a o / Was originally established in China. / Instead, you seek its illumination in the West. / You're wasting your straw sandals! /1 wonder what it is that you are after?" (.XYJ 64.820; 7 ^ 3 : 2 2 8 ) . In Chinese cultural history the sudden approach has been romanticized and valorized by the literati, the class that has defined classic Chinese literature and culture. T h e literati have been somewhat impatient with the salvation program and the rigorous regimen as practiced by the earlier Buddhists, which would take as long as several lives, even several kalpas, to complete. (In Xiyouji, it takes Tripitaka ten incarnations to accomplish his destined mission and hence to achieve his salvation.) T h u s , Sudhana, the protagonist in the last book of the

Huayanjing,

who takes one lifetime to achieve the Buddhahood, has a strong appeal for the Chinese literati, including Li Tongxuan, its commentator. He has applied a similar interpretive strategy in his commentary on the Ru fajie pin: " [ T ] h e South is used to stand for truth, clarity, and emptiness. W h e n you arrive at true knowledge of emptiness, then everywhere is the South." 7 1 Concerning Xiyouji, commentators tend to apply the epistemological model of the "sudden" school, among them Huang Zhouxing—not without good, plausible reasons. I would argue, however, that much of the "sudden" interpretation is imposed upon the book by later critics, whose turn of mind is more philosophical and religious than literary, for the novellas a genre, is not a convenient means for expressing sudden enlightenment, which would tend to weaken the whole narrative flow and the development of plot. A s a consummation of a process of painful search, this interpretation is legitimate; otherwise, it contradicts the necessary progression of the narrative, the very raison d'être of the novel. Indeed, the "sudden" interpretation seems to subvert, at least on one level, the efforts that led

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to the final attainment of the goal set by Buddha, the bodhisattvas, and the pilgrims themselves. For Xiyouji is essentially ajourney, a pilgrimage to the West that occurs over fourteen years, taking the pilgrims across two continents and carrying readers through more than a thousand neatly printed pages. Even the passages emphasizing instantaneous enlightenment hint that such a stage, too, takes a long time to accomplish, although the length of time varies. At the same time, there are equally impressive passages that expose a gradual approach to salvation—the journey has to be taken—apart from the structural requirements of the journey narrative. Take, for example, the following episode. The master and Sun Wukong engage in a lively discussion of Xin jing, an exercise that they enjoy repeating. Sun Wukong's explanation of the sutra borders on the sudden approach; he is often regarded as epitomizing that approach. 72 As master and disciples walked and enjoyed the scenery, they found another mountain barring their way. "Disciples," said the Tang monk, "please be careful. We have a tall mountain before us, and I fear that tigers and wolves might be here to obstruct us." "Master," said Pilgrim, "a cleric should not speak as does a secular man. Don't you remember the words of the Heart Sutra given to you by that Crow's Nest Priest: 'No hindrances, and therefore, no terror or fear; he is far removed from error and delusion'? Only you must Sweep away the filth of your mind, And wash off the dust by your ears. Without tasting the most painful of pain, You will never be a man among men.(-XT7 32.405; JW 2:98-99, text modified) Sun Wukong, it seems, has instantaneous enlightenment in mind. However, in order to attain that stage, one has to "sweep away the filth of [one's] mind, / And wash out the dust in [one's] ears" (text modified): in short, do away with the dust gathered on the mirror of the mind. He has to achieve a certain amount of merit, hence the emphatic reiteration of gong: "The proverb says, 'Success will come when meritorious service [gong] is done'" (XYJ 43.552-553; JW 2:28485). Consider another episode, when Tripitaka, impatient, wonders how much longer the journey will take. "O Disciple," said Tripitaka, "why is it so difficult to reach the Western Heaven? I remember that since leaving the city Chang'an, spring has come and

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gone on this road severaltimes,autumn has arrived to be followed by winter— at least four or five years must have gone by. Why is it that we still haven't reached our destination?" "It's too early! It's too early!" said Pilgrim, roaring with laughter. "We haven't even left the main door yet!" ( X Y J 36.457; JW 2:163)

We should bear in mind that the protagonist of the novel is Tripitaka, who, according to Zheng Mingli, represents gradual enlightenment, rather than Sun Wukong, who represents the sudden. Even Sun Wukong, who symbolizes wisdom and instantaneous understanding, must be ever vigilant and wash away the dust, physical or otherwise, that gathers on him: consider, especially, the scenes in which he bathes himself, which can be regarded as rituals of ablution (for instance, chaps. 14,31). All of the pilgrims bathe themselves when they reach the land of the Buddha (chap. 98): the poem says, "Unstained, they are washed of all filth and dust" (.XYJ 98.1230; JW 4:381). The author seems to have mitigated the "sudden" school's emphasis on the ontological emptiness of everything, even the concept of the Buddha and Buddhahood, and its iconoclasm—everything is the working of the mind. Another issue to be considered is consummation of the journey, which borders on the ironic: namely, the sutras they finally obtain. Initially, they are given wordless (or characterless)—blank—scriptures. This ending could have been an appropriate and plausible one, given the Zen mindset.73 The pilgrims should havefinallylearned that there are no scriptures to bring back, since salvation must be sought within themselves. However, even Sun Wukong panics upon discovering that the scriptures they have taken such efforts to obtain are devoid of words. They return to the Thunderclap Temple and demand another set of scriptures, this time with characters. Buddha complies, although he explains that the wordless scriptures are superior to their inscribed counterparts; comprehending them simply requires a superior intellect—which the Land of the East, or China, does not possess. Here, then, is a dramatization of the tensions between the two contending views of enlightenment, and the book's purport. The blank scriptures are a logical outcome of the sudden view, which disregards anything formal. The result is an attempt to reconcile the tensions. It has taken the pilgrims fourteen years to reach their destination, and they have to bring something material back to China. In the final analysis, it would seem, gradual liberation is the structuring principle of this book. Thus, in the discussion of this novel it is one thing to argue that its theme is

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the cultivation of the mind; it is quite another to insinuate that it represents the sudden school of thinking. Sometimes there is a contradiction between the sudden and gradual. But, as we have observed, narrative as a genre has difficulty sustaining the "sudden" without weakening the narrative flow and development of the plot. Hence the need to resolve the tensions between the two, just as Li Tongxuan's interpretation of Ru fajie pin resolves the potential tensions between these two turns of mind. Yes, enlightenment may be sudden, but it rests on accumulated, sustained effort; in other words, effort and accomplishment (gong) are required to complete this arduous process. Another equally viable interpretation, as maintained by Li Tongxuan, is that enlightenment equals in some degrees the bodhicitta, the determination to follow the way of the bodhisattava—for Tripitaka, his bodhicitta is his vow, in chapter 12, to go to the West for the scriptures. Without enlightenment and, sometimes, supernatural help, this would be impossible, and the completion of the process requires arduous and protracted effort. In other words, one may realize the Buddha-nature within him suddenly, a result of jiewu or initial insight, but still he needs to cleanse the mirror of his mind of the dust and defilements that have gathered there, a process of accumulation that goes on and on, before he achieves zhengwu, or complete enlightenment.74 Zongmi (780-841), the Fifth Patriarch of the Huayan sect, held to this formula: "(1) initial awakening [jiewu], (2) gradual cultivation, and (3) fully realized enlightenment [zhengwu],,,7r' In short, this reconciliation leans toward the gradual after all.76 After jiewu, one still has a long way to go, just as Sudhana does in his quest. W e should understand the title of Huang Zhouxing's commentary edition, Zhengdao shu, in this way. This interpretation also applies to other works under study. Again, this process is not as innocent as it appears; rather, it is fraught with ambiguity and complexity. T h e above consideration leads to the next section, a discussion about the trajectory of thejourney itself, which is at the same time the structure of the novel.

T H E J O U R N E Y : L I N E A R OR C I R C U L A R

T h e integration of contradictory sets of interpretative demands within the novel—namely, the illusory and the real, the gradual and the sudden—raises problems in considering the structural frame of thejourney. Does it actually have a telos? Is it linear or circular? How can we deal with the repetition embedded in the structure of thejourney and in the novel? Plaks, for his part, seems to have settled for something other than a unified,

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linear development. For him, the pilgrims "seem continually to be passing through the same external and internal trials; and when they finally reach their promised land, it is suspiciously reminiscent of the Tang capital from which they set out," and "the weary trek to the ends of the earth really goes nowhere and ends up where it began." 77 His insight is acute, as he pinpoints the contradictions between the journey structure—which requires an end, a telos—and the repetitiousness of the episodes, events, and settings: "[T]he apparent progress of the pilgrimage is subverted by the persistence of the same obstacles at the very end as at the beginning," and "we cannot really say that the pilgrimage progresses steadily toward the goal of attainment."78 In other words, all this outward movement does not lead to any kind of development. Zhang Jing'er thinks otherwise, regarding each of Tripitaka's ordeals as an experience of death and a coming out of it. He has learned not only from his own experiences but also from his disciple, Sun Wukong. 79 T h e problem for us, the readers, is that we cannot pinpoint the stages of progression, that is, what the pilgrims have learned from their trials. I argue that the journey is both circular and linear and that the novel succeeds in reconciling these two imperatives. Huayanjing's Rufajiepin,

a work with simi-

lar structure and similar structural tensions, can serve as a good starting point. T h e model established in this sutra leads us to a better understanding of the novel. In the sutra Sudhana is instructed to go farther and farther south, but the structure is not innocent either. Is Sudhana's pilgrimage "progressive"? Traditional commentators, who read the journey in the context of Huayan jing in its entirety, think so, regarding different stops with different spiritual benefactors as representing different stages in the attainment of the bodhisattvahood, although this is only a simplified summary. Early scholars of the same scripture have expressed a similar opinion.80 However, as Ehman recognizes, there is certain textual evidence that seems to indicate otherwise. Sudhana asks his spiritual teacher the same question every time. Further, his teacher answers this question, and in the end always tells him that he/she lacks something and directs him to another teacher farther south. At this moment Sudhana invariably circumambulates him/ her and goes on. Toward the end of the journey, he encounters Manjusri again, before finally visiting the bodhisattva Samantabhadra (Puxian). Ehman centers his interpretation on the notion ofjingjie (visaya), the way of seeing things, and Fojingjie (buddhavisaya), Buddha's way of seeing the universe. What Sudhana strives to obtain is the ability to see and experience the universe as Buddha sees and experiences it. T h e sutra itself is a series of attempts to unravel this mystery from different perspectives—What is buddhavisaya? In

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other words, this sutra is constructed according to a "pattern (or orderly arrangement) through which the buddhavisaya may be perceived." Given this particular teleological structure, which involves a measure of repetition, Ehman divides the sutra into three sections. The first part he calls the "introductory section," where "the buddhavisaya is envisioned"; the second is the "kalyanamitra section," where "the buddhavisaya is earnestly sought"; and the third is the "Maitreya section," where "the buddhavisaya is perfectly realized."81 The first section, the Buddha's assembly at Jetavana, is on "establishing the center"82—what the pilgrim is to realize at the conclusion of his pilgrimage. The second is on "walking in circles," where he meets different spiritual benefactors. A key issue for understanding this sutra, Ehman points out, is that they are "not so much 'teachers' as they are occasions for raising the question of the bodhisattva course and sights through which glimpses of the buddhavisaya may appear." 83 This is because although they "are positioned in the Buddha sphere," they are "unaware of the totality of this sphere"; their purpose is to provide "some sort of'means' relating 'me' (the subject) to highest perfect enlightenment (the ultimate end)": "they serve as the unique dharma-moments in which is mediated a partial consciousness of the ultimate."84 In this sense, Sudhana's pilgrimage may be regarded as walking in a circle, with his visits with kalyanamitras as points on the circumference. When all the spiritual benefactors are seen and talked to, he has "gone 'full circle'"85 and taken in the whole picture. In other words, Any pilgrim would need to pass through all of these "points" before the circle could be complete. By the same token, Sudhana would need to visit a requisite number of kalyanamitras

in order to complete the "circle" of his pilgrimage.

Only when the circle is complete is Sudhana in a position to "see" on all sides

and to be benevolent all around.xc' Ehman's third section is on "entering the center," which is the bodhisattva Maitreya's tower. This time Sudhana finds the buddhivisaya, which is none other than Maitreya's tower itself, and sees himself as "viewing it from the outside." Upon entering it, he brings his pilgrimage to a virtual completion. 87 How then does this sutra bear on our understanding of the structure of Xiyouji? My argument is that we can read the adventures of the novel's protagonists in this light, too. On the physical level, the journey is linear; the pilgrims take fourteen years and finally reach India, the Spirit Mountain, the Thunderclap Temple. But on the psychological, epistemological, and hence allegorical

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level, they seem to travel in circles and, as Plaks points out, encounter time and again almost identical adversaries, trials, and demonic landscapes. A n d as we have discussed, it is difficult to pinpoint what exactly the pilgrims have gained from their experiences, apart from the distance they have covered and apart from the extent of the cleansing of their karma and hence the merit they have gained. Yet despite all this, they do finally achieve Buddhahood and are apotheosized. In this way we deal with one intimidating obstacle in the interpretation of the journey and hence the novel: how to account for the degrees of their progress or progression. Li Tongxuan's comment on the ten Buddhas of Insight (zhi Fo) is an apt conclusion to this section. It is also a comment on Sudhana's pilgrimage: These ten buddhas all have as their single common foundation the one Buddha of Adamantine Insight. The Buddha of Adamantine Insight has as his foundation the pervasively refulgent insight of the Tathagata. The pervasively refulgent insight of the Tathagata has as its foundation the insight without abode. Finally, the insight without abode has as its foundation the totality of sentient beings. So too with Sudhana. When he presents himself to Maitreya, Maitreya sends him back to see Manjusri, who had been the very first kalyanamitra. The intent of this is to demonstrate that, even throughout all five phases of the bodhisattva career, one never really departs from that first fruit of buddhahood which is the incipience of faith. So, these "ten stages," extending from the beginning to the end of bodhisattvahood are actually but a single, unitary reality. In this sense is the chapter whose purpose is to equalize all parts of practice, to unify the many stages of advancement, and to integrate its various degrees. This, then, is a progressive cultivation in the midst of non-progression (wu shengjin zhong jinxiu), and advancement by degrees in the midst of an absence of all degrees (wu cengji zhongji).sli

Perhaps we can say that the journey in Xiyouji also presents a "progressive cultivation in the midst of non-progression, an advancement of degrees in the midst of an absence of all degrees." Only Li Tongxuan, in his attempts to "shorten" the progress, equates bodhicitta with enlightenment, the instant when "all deluded thoughts and affections are immediately extinguished." 89 In our understanding of Xiyouji, mirror.

it takes time and effort to wipe away the dust and defilement on the

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D O U B L E S AND A V A T A R S : I N T E R R E L A T E D N E S S OF T H E P I L G R I M S AND O T H E R CHARACTERS

T h e novel's concern with the human mind, which includes both the mind itself and the mind when it turns in upon itself, requires psychological representations, although the devices differ from those deployed in Western literature. Here I discuss the relationships between the pilgrims, the interrelatedness of the pilgrims, and, as often happens, the interrelatedness of individual pilgrims and the d e m o n s devices that contribute to the literary representation of the Buddhist psychology. Students of classical Chinese fiction have dealt with the interrelatedness of characters; Plaks, for example, points out, " [ W ] e may observe the general tendency of Chinese fiction to present what are essentially composite characters—groups and sets of figures, rather than concentrating on the delineation of the individual hero in isolation." 90 T h e emphasis of this part, however, is on the Buddhist foundations of such devices and topoi. Commentators and critics oiXiyouji

have paid ample attention to such is-

sues. It is commonplace to spell out the correspondences of the four pilgrims and the dragon horse to the Five Phases, an interpretation occasionally encouraged by the author. Started by traditional commentators, this interpretative strategy has been rigorously applied by modern critics, although there is no agreement as to which element each character represents. According to Huang Zhouxing, Sun Wukong represents fire; Zhu Bajie, wood; Sha Monk, metal; and Tripitaka, earth (this is why the monk is a "sinker," who is dogged by calamities with water). According to Zhang Jing'er, Tripitaka represents water; Sun Wukong, both fire and metal; Zhu Bajie, wood; Sha Monk, earth. Critics with Taoist inclinations, Huang Zhouxing included, tend to regard the pilgrims and the dragon horse as representing different internal organs, which correspond to the Five Phases. They thus interpret the book as manifesting principles of the internal alchemy. Those with Confucian biases tend to regard the book as representing a Confucian's life and works, with the different pilgrims representing the internal organs and the four limbs; the novel therefore details a Confucian's life from birth to old age.91 Furthermore, such schemes have been integrated into the structure of the novel. 92 Plaks has also analyzed this "grid of five-elements interaction," the characters' significance in this grid, as well as how some episodes are mapped out according to it. 93 T h e problem is that this grid, like others, does not lend itself to a consistent application. Zheng Mingli seems to have taken this interpretive strategy a step further in

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her discussion of the "oneness of the five sages [the four pilgrims and the dragon horse]" (wushengyiti). Tripitaka here represents the human body; his three disciples, Zhu Bajie, Sha Monk, and Sun Wukong, represent jie or discipline (sila), ding or meditation (samadhi), and hui or wisdom (prajna or jnana), respectively; and the dragon horse represents human perception. T h e five pilgrims are the five aspects of one pilgrim.94 Ping Shao, in his dissertation, suggests that "the entire novel is the tale of a single character, the birth and rebirth of the stone monkey." 95 Complicating the issue further is that many characters appear to be duplications of others or, conversely, represent opposite traits of certain figures: in either case such characters must be regarded as doubles. This sheds new light on the previous interpretations. Surprisingly, most critics, especially the commentators, have been content to tackle these figural configurations separately. A conspicuous exception is Zheng Mingli. T h e issues involved here are, however, not only relevant to this novel, but they have other repercussions, indeed an almost universal significance in the fiction of enlightenment. At this juncture I would like to propose an interpretative strategy that takes the conclusions of Zheng Mingli and others and extends them. I argue that such issues can be traced back to, and seen as patterned on, particular Buddhist cosmological and epistemological models; they also bear a strong resemblance to what are called doubling devices in Western criticism. In Chinese fiction and especially in the works at hand, the use of these devices is more pervasive than has been generally acknowledged by recent critical studies. In the West, doubling is taken as "a device for articulating the experience of self-division": Its variations include the duplication, supernatural or phantasmal, or through likeness or affinity to another, of the individual; and the division of a personality, by supernatural or fantastic means, or through the opposition or complementarity of separate characters who can be looked upon as differing aspects of a sundered whole. In all its variations, the double arises out of and gives form to the tension between division and unity. It stands for contradiction within unity, and for unity in spite of division, the likeness expressing the unity of the individual, the doubleness or complementarity expressing division within the personality.™

The conflicting drives and tensions that result from this division are manifested or concretized in various doubles, "differing aspects of a sundered whole." Such devices have been increasingly popular among novelists since the eighteenth century.97

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In the Chinese context, certain Buddhist assumptions about reality have played a vital role in the pervasive use of this literary device, although other systems of thought may also have a bearing on this—for instance, the bipolar complementarity ofyin and yang.98 Like its Western counterparts, various manifestations of doubling in the Chinese novel result from the author's probing of the depths of human psychology as viewed in Buddhist terms. First, let us focus on the Buddhist universe. As Japanese Buddhologist Sadakata elaborates, the conception of the Buddha has undergone a tremendous change from a historical figure to "an eternal Buddha of whom the historical Buddha is no more than a single manifestation" in Fahuajing (Lotus sutra).99 In Huayanjing, Buddha Vairocana is described as existing simultaneously in all time and spaces. In Fanwangjing (Sutra of the perfect net, Brahmajala-sutta), Vairocana sits upon a great thousand-petaled lotus, each petal of which supports a world. He incarnates into one thousand Sakyamuni Buddhas, one for each of the worlds. On each petal, in each world, there are ten billion Mount Sumeru worlds. The Sakyamuni Buddhas each incarnate into ten billion Sakyamuni Bodhisattvas, who dwell within each of these Mount Sumeru worlds. We therefore have a total of one Vairocana Buddha, one thousand Sakyamuni Buddhas, and ten trillion Sakyamuni Bodhisattvas.100 Concerning the three bodhisattvas in Ru fajiepin,

Li Tongxuan writes:

Avalokitesvara represents living in the ocean of birth and death, helping beings compassionately. This is one of the three laws that make up the virtues of Vairocana, the Illuminator Buddha; the other two are the subtle principle of the spiritual body (fashen miaoli) represented by Manjusri and the myriad acts of the body of knowledge (zhishen wanxing) represented by Samantabhadra."" Does this not suggest, at least by implication, that the three bodhisattvas represent different aspects of Vairocana or the transformations of Vairocana and are intended to illustrate the many sides of the Buddha as necessitated by the expedient principle? The various bodhisattvas can then be seen as Buddha's avatars, "temporary transformation^].'" 02 At the same time, the bodhisattvas also have their own avatars. For instance, it has been suggested, at least by implication, that the spiritual teachers Sudhana visits are avatars of Guanyin (Avalokitesvara). In Xiyouji, the demon Redboy is defeated by the bodhisattva and Sun Wukong. "That demon is therefore

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converted to the right way; he makes fifty-three visits to pay homage to Guanyin" (XTJ 43-552). T h e author further explains, "It is now said that the youth pays homage to Guanyin; he makes fifty-three visits, and in each one he sees the Buddha himself. It refers to this event" ( X Y J 43.552). Interestingly, the author of Xiyouji rewrote the story and set Sudhana's pilgrimage after he is defeated and subsequently converted by Sun Wukong and the bodhisattva Guanyin. Those he visits are different manifestations of Guanyin and by extension different manifestations of the Buddha, for Guanyin herself represents certain aspects of the Buddha. However, some literati have cast doubt on this. Hu Yinglin (fl. 1576), in a prose piece affixed to his collection of the illustrations of Guanyin's fifty-three manifestations, questioned the practice of picturing Sudhana by the side of Guanyin: he reiterated that it was Manjusri who was Sudhana's deliverer.103 But the popular imagination seems to have a mind and will of its own, which is not altogether groundless, though. This model finds its way into the vernacular novel in China: not only in the depiction and characterization of deities and supernatural figures but, more important for this study, in the narrative structure. It has been developed into a poetics and aesthetics in traditional narrative literature and has become a mode of composition. If we apply this interpretive strategy to the pilgrims, we can say that they represent different aspects of one pilgrim: all are his avatars. If, however, we consider this in relation to certain poems in the first and last chapters, we can say that the protagonist of the book is none other than humanity itself—humanity as the author sees it—with the novel being a dramatization of its fall and (self-)redemption. T h e five sages manifest the same principle from different aspects. Since what distinguishes man from other living beings is his mind, we can say that the protagonist of the book is the human mind. In other words, all the pilgrims are united within this composite and compound character—humanity. 104 This method of interpretation can also be applied to individual pilgrims. In the unfolding of the plot concerning a certain character, the avatars are projections of his own psychological conditions—since all phenomena, in the final analysis, boil down to the projection of one's mind, a creed that is reiterated in this book. These avatars can be termed as his doubles, either as his superego, in the form of benevolent, authoritative characters, or as his shadow, in the form of demons that represent "traits that the ego considers negative and would like to annihilate."105 Sun Wukong is a good example. T h e bodhisattva figures can be regarded as his positive doubles, whereas the demons are his shadows. Thus, we can see Sun Wukong's master, Subodhi, as his double, as far as their names are concerned

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(both mean an understanding of emptiness), the sage representing the hero's positive attributes. Zheng Mingli, in her insightful analysis, writes that Bull Monster is another form of Sun Wukong: the bull demon, like the simian, is also capable of seventy-two transformations.106 More obvious is the six-eared macaque, who shares Monkey's appearance and prowess; not even the bodhisattva Guanyin can tell them apart.107 We, however, can expand this scheme to include all the demons and monsters: they are all projections of the pilgrims' minds, whether they resemble the pilgrims overtly, or obliquely, or not at all. T h e author may make the shadows resemble the pilgrims in some ways. Take, for example, the Monstrous King of Havoc (Hunshi mowang) in chapter 2. When Sun Wukong returns to his mountain, he finds it ravaged and the other monkeys bullied by the Monstrous King, who lives in Water-Belly Cave (Shuizangdong), a contrast to Sun Wukong's WaterCurtain Cave (Shuilian dong). Sun Wukong kills him. T h e monster can certainly be regarded as Sun Wukong's shadow, exhibiting the traits he is likely to develop if he does not pursue the right way. Moreover, if we interpret the five sages as a composite pilgrim, then the demons and monsters are the shadows of this pilgrim. T h e whole book is a doubling device, the doubles being, in the final analysis, emanations from his own mind. This is a result of the book's blatant concern with the human mind: the mind itself and the mind when it turns in upon itself, when it finds destructive forces and frightening, dreadful things. T h e doubling devices are yet more complex than enumerated thus far, taking on self-reflexive dimensions. For instance, the protagonist Tripitaka is in search of none other than the Tripitaka (the tripartite Buddhist Canon). 108 Moreover, the novel itself has this quality. As a traditional commentator, Liu Yiming, writes: The acquisition of the true scriptures by means of the journey to the West actually means the acquisition of the true scripture of The Journey to the West. Apart from The Journey to the West there are no other scriptures to be acquired. The Journey to the West is transmitted through the story of the transmission of the scriptures by the Tathagata Buddha, that is all. If one can truly understand The Journey to the West, then the three baskets of the true scripture will be found within it. Only he who knows this can read The Journey to the West.10!) Thus, the book is both a story about the quest and the end of this quest. T h e quest finally leads to the book, the book to itself. T h e unfolding of the book becomes a self-reflexive process, although the manipulation of the self-reflexive dimension of the text is not as pronounced and developed as in the books we are about to consider in the following chapters.

CHAPTER 4

The Dream

Since the "real world"seems To be less than really real, Why need I suppose The world of dreams is nothing Other than the world of dreams? —Saigyo, from William LaFleur, The Karma of Words In the one hundred years of one's life, were there no travels in dreams, he would be a prisoner in shackles every day of the thirty-six thousand days. —Dong Yue, from "Mengxiang san," Fengcao'an shiji

XIYOU

BU A S I N T E R M E D I A R Y

T h i s chapter is an interlude linking the discussions o f the sixteenth-century Xiyou ji and the eighteenth-century Honglou meng. M o s t critics agree that D o n g Y u e wrote Xiyou bu1 in 1640, basing it on one o f his o w n poems. 2 Xiyou bu, containing sixteen chapters, is ostensibly a response to Xiyou ji, billed as its "supplem e n t , " in the well-established practice among classic Chinese novelists of writing sequels and supplements. 3 A l t h o u g h Xiyou ji is a complete w o r k , this piece, as its " s u p p l e m e n t , " is supposed to be inserted between chapters 61 and 62. Xiyou bu is to follow Sun W u k o n g ' s three attempts to b o r r o w — b y hoaxing, cajoling,

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coercing—the Palm-Leaf Fan, resorting to such extremes as entering Raksasa's belly to threaten her life and taking on the form of her demon husband, so as to extinguish the fire of the Mountain of Flames. T h e frame is still the westward pilgrimage, but Dong Yue chooses to elaborate on a particular segment of the journey, thus for him the poetics of supplementation (bu) has become one of segmentation. Further, he shifts his attention to Sun Wukong, leaving Tripitaka to assume a peripheral role. Xiyou bu can be seen as an intermediary between Xiyouji and Honglou meng. Many of its significant innovations paved the way for Honglou meng} T h e concern here is to probe the new direction given to the fiction of enlightenment, a reorientation that culminates in the Qing masterpiece. This reorientation has occurred notably on two fronts, the thematic and the structural, although each is so dependent on the other that they cannot really be separated. In what follows I will consider the novel's study of desire, its probing of the depths of human psychology by exploring the dynamics of dreams and doubling devices, and its poetics of self-reflexivity.

XIYOU

BU: D E M O N O F D E S I R E

(QINGYAO)

Thematically, the short novel's most important departure from its parent novel is the treatment of desire: the author has Sun Wukong experience many forms of emotion and passion, some in excruciating intensity. In the one hundred-chapter Xiyouji, Sun Wukong, for all his weaknesses, is not susceptible to this brand of temptation, unlike the old prototypes in other versions and his simian counterparts in Western literature, since the monkey has been regarded as "lecherous" in both China and the West. 5 T h e full-length novel Xiyouji makes him a paragon of virtue in this respect. T h e differences between Xiyouji and Xiyou bu are striking. In Xiyou ji, the overwhelming majority of the demons are monstrous in every sense of the word, laying snares for the pilgrims and plotting to devour them. In Xiyou bu, however, they attempt to involve Sun Wukong only in emotional entanglements; they take on many human attributes and shed many monstrous characteristics: no longer hideous, they often appear in lovely forms. Thus, Sun Wukong is surprised by the beauty of an enchantress: "When people on earth speak of beauty, they speak in comparison to the Bodhisattva Guanyin. Now, I haven't seen the Bodhisattva often—maybe ten or twenty times—but seeing this lady, it almost seems the Bodhisattva could be her disciple" (XTB 14.64; TMM

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168). In chapter 12, even Sun Wukong, whose visual acuity has always allowed him to distinguish monsters from humans, has his doubts: "From the looks of the Little Moon King, he doesn't look like a monster" (XYB 12.53; TMM140), although he is convinced that he must be one. In a question-and-answer section generally attributed to the author himself, Dong Yue speaks to this very point: "In the original Journey to the West, all the monsters have the heads of cows and tigers and make noises like a jackal or glare like a wolf. Now in t h e . . . fifteen chapters of The Tower of Myriad Mirrors, the descriptions of the Qing Fish [the demon of Xiyou bu] show it young and delicate, almost human, how is this?" His own answer is, "Your very words—young, delicate, almost human—precisely describe the appearance of the foremost demon since the beginning of time."6 Concerning this, Hegel states, "Monkey's adventures in The Tower have, after all, made him much more human than he is in the 'parent' novel; for the first time this figure has to cope with physical desires, with family, with responsibilities in situations where even his magical powers are insufficient."7 Madeline Chu takes up similar issues. "While the protagonist of the Xiyoubu scurries through some well-traveled domains of the Xiyouji in his journeys," she writes, "his experiences are drastically different from those of the Buddhist pilgrims."8 For instance, "while the journey of Xiyouji moves away from the world of shapes and sounds into that of serenity and enlightenment, the journey of Xiyoubu enters deep into the world of senses, emotions, attachments and desires."9 Whereas Chu correctly underscores Xiyou bu's departure from its parent novel and hence its autonomy, she concludes that Dong Yue "deemphasize[s] the traditional values of Buddhism."10 Her understanding of Buddhism is a somewhat narrow one, with the contention that Dong Yue "acknowledges the substance, not the emptiness, of human existence,"11 for this does not necessarily imply a departure from the Buddhist concepts. To the contrary, Buddhism, especially as it developed in China, encompasses—embraces—the phenomenal world. Moreover, the book does not represent an effort to break away from the Buddhist frame of reference; rather, its intricacy suggests the opposite. The end of an exposure to the human experiences, especially their emotional spectra, is to transcend them, not to indulge in them. For example, when Sun Wukong finds himself in the midst of the beautiful women of Chinese history and reciting lines of poetry as a drinking game, he says at his turn, "A repentant heart floats with clouds and rains" (XYB 5.21), with the term "clouds and rains" referring to sexual acts in Chinese literary tradition. The significance of this line—a discordant note—is enhanced when we consider the occasion for which it was originally intended. The

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line is likely quoted from a series of ten quatrains by the Ming dramatist T a n g Xianzu (1550-1616) addressed to T u Long, w h o was dying from a disease caused by his life of promiscuity, and invoking the bodhisattava Guanyin to lessen his suffering. 12 A s D o n g Y u e put it himself: The forty-eight thousand years are the amassed roots of desire (qinggen). T o become enlightened and open to the Great Way, one must first empty and destroy the roots of desire (kongpo qinggen). T o empty and destroy the roots of desire one must first go inside desire (zouru qingnei). After going inside desire and seeing the emptiness of the root of the world's desire, one can then go outside of desire (zouchu qingwaij and realize the reality of the root of the Way. 13 T h i s statement is essentially the philosophical raison d'être of this book. " T h e forty-eight thousand years" probably refers to the historical time 1 4 —in other words, "since the beginning of history." All human history is an affair of desire, but one has to crush that desire in order to comprehend the Great W a y . T o achieve this, however, one must first enter into the realm of desire, or "go inside desire," and have a personal, experiential cognition of desire—a Mahàyàna paradox. Only in this way can one destroy the root of desire and attain true enlightenment. In short, the emphasis is still on enlightenment. As Faure formulates it, "Mahàyàna Buddhism . . . argued that the ultimate truth can be discovered only by those w h o awaken to the reality of desire and are able to transmute it." 1 5 T h e most difficult desire to deal with and the one most important to comprehend is the attachment between the male and female. As Yiru jushi (Layman Yiru) puts it in the preface to Xiyou bu, " O f various roots of desire, that of a sexual nature is most difficult to destroy" (XTB 1). T h e anonymous author of a critical sketch about this book writes: Pilgrim is first deluded and bewitched by the girls in the spring; then he is deluded and bewitched at the Fragrance-Gripping Pavilion. The third time he is bewitched is most grave: he even becomes Lady Yu [Xiang Yu's consort]. After he jumps out of the Tower of Myriad Mirrors, there are still such demonic figures as Green-Cord Lady and Râksasa who bears him a son. It is because the Demon of Desire, as desire between the male and female, is more devastating than any other varieties.16 T h e novel's emphasis is also highlighted by the author's play on Chinese characters, by graphic or phonetic suggestions. 17

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The events ofXiyou bu occur immediately after the episodes of the Mountain of Flames. In Xiyou ji, the flames can be regarded as representing human desire and attachment to this world; it is commonplace in Buddhism to evoke burning fire or a burning house to refer to the sufferings that result from one's attachment to pleasure. If we interpret Xiyou ji as a flight from this attachment, then the author's attitude might best be described as escapist: the quenching of the fire can be understood as symbolizing the suppression, by force, of Sun Wukong's desire.18 As Dong Yue commented on Sun Wukong's quenching of the fire at the mountain in the question-and-answer section: "The Great Sage [Sun Wukong] devised a scheme to obtain the Banana-leaf Fan and cool the flames. In this he merely used his physical strength (li e zhif {XYB 1; TMM 191-192). This, it seems, is Dong Yue's summary ofXiyouji. But Sun Wukong in Xiyou bu is different: he looks his own desire in the face. He experiences and explores and is accordingly initiated, albeit in his characteristically lighthearted manner (since there is practically nothing that can make our "old Monkey" serious). The Sun Wukong we know has always prided himself on his chastity. "Since I was born from the stone egg, I've never been reincarnated by way of any parents, and I've never chased the mist and flowers [women]" (XYB 5.20; TMM 62). When he hears about a play portraying him as one who has fatheredfivesons, he wonders, "I've been single and chaste since I was bornfromthe stone egg. When was I married to any woman?" {XYB 14.64; TMM 167). InXiyoujihe is unwilling to change into the forms of women, whereas in the sequel he changes into Lady Yu without knowing it, and the transformed face rivals the beautiful woman in history: "When Pilgrim saw the mirror he quickly took a look to compare himselfwith the real Beautiful Lady, and saw that the face in the mirror was prettier" (XYB 7.33; TMMgs).19 The words ofa Taoist in a hilarious scene should be taken somewhat more seriously: Sun Wukong and Lady Yu "were originally married" (XYB 6.26; TMM 78). An old fortune-teller at the Green Bamboo Cave tells Sun Wukong, "Since you're a monk we shouldn't be talking about matters of husband and wife—but in terms ofyour fate, you ought to get married" (XYB 13.62; TMM 164). Moreover, the old man tells him, "You must die once in order to live again" {XYB 13.62; TMM 165).20 Yiru jushi's words in the preface may be seen as a critique of Sun Wukong in Xiyou ji and a statement about the thematic concern of the sequel: "Since the beginningless beginning, those who consider themselves as above the cycle of life and death are already bound by this cycle."21 As a result, the setting in this short novel changes drasticallyfromthat in its predecessor. The longer work is set in the wilderness and on the road, whereas the shorter piece is

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set in a series of palaces, terraces, towers, and halls, elaborately built and luxuriously decorated, with decadent connotations. T h e above considerations correspond with the way the Tiantai school arrives at the truth. It is imperative to understand emptiness; however, it is equally important to know the other end of the spectrum, that is, to have some comprehension of no-emptiness. T h e right understanding lies between the two extremes of nirvana and samsara, between emptiness and the illusory, the conventional, the provisional (jia). One cannot avoid the provisional in getting at the truth; rather, one has to enter the world of the provisional (rujia).22 In fact, the entire book can be regarded as a dramatization of this paradigm: since the most important issue is desire, we can say that the process of enlightenment lies in entering into and exiting out of desire: zouru qingnei and zouchu qingwai, which is synonymous with entry into and exit out of dream, rumeng and chumeng; entry into and exit out of illusion, ruhuan and chuhuan. T h e author is explicit on this point. After extinguishing the fire of the Flaming Mountain with the Palm-Leaf Fan, the pilgrims resume their journey. T h e y come across a spring meadow with red peonies in full bloom and a group of beautiful young girls frolicking. Seeing the spring meadow and the youths on the road, with their blatantly emotional and even sexual connotations, 23 the monk's mind is agitated. "Let's go by way of some other less traveled route," he says. "I'm afraid that in such a green, green spring meadow this group of beautiful young boys and girls will lead straight to trouble and entanglement" ( X Y B 1.2; TMM26). This remark suggests an escapist attitude and takes us back to the episode about the Flaming Mountain in Xiyouji: the pilgrims' path is obstructed by a range of flaming mountains. T o reach the Spirit Mountain that is their destination, the pilgrims must pass through this area, stretching eight hundred miles. When the first attempt by Sun Wukong to borrow the Palm-Leaf Fan—which is the only means to extinguish the fire—is frustrated, Sha Monk summarizes their predicament:

Where there are scriptures, there's fire. Where there's no fire, there are no scriptures. We are in some dilemma! {XYJ59.764;JWy.i^Q) Sun Wukong makes two more attempts and finally, with supernatural help, procures the fan with which he is able to extinguish the fire. Within the context of these two books, the spring meadow with red peonies and the playful girls and mountains of flames suggest the same thing, as the monk rightly comments. T h e

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redness of the flowers is the continuation of the fire of the Flaming Mountainit is far from being extinguished, as the pilgrims would like to think. There is no other way, however: one cannot bypass emotional trials to gain enlightenment. At the beginning of Xiyou bu, Sun Wukong kills the girls who tease the monk, as he is wont to do under such provocation, an attempt on his part to use force to deal with desire. However, this method proves inefficient.24 Different from the "old Monkey" in Xiyou ji, he now feels pity for the girls and regrets what he does. On his way back, he finds his master uncharacteristically fast asleep together with other pilgrims. Relieved because there is no one to reproach him for his deeds, he sets out to beg alms and in a somersault leaps into the heavens. However, without knowing it, he is bewitched and enters into the eerie worlds created by a demon, the Qing Fish Spirit, and embarks on a series of absurd adventures. As Dong Yue explains himself, 11 The Tower of Myriad Mirrors deals with the Demon of Desire, and the Demon of Desire is the Qing Fish Spirit." 25

M Y R I A D M I R R O R S OF T H E M I N D

Xiyou bu's focus is the human mind/heart, which it takes from the parent novel. Mind, if undisciplined (by a Buddhist regimen), runs wild; it engenders numerous thoughts, images, and intentions, most of them contradictory. This is dramatized by the central event around which all the other episodes revolve: Sun Wukong's adventures in the Tower of Myriad Mirrors. Pilgrim didn't know where he had come in. He was bewildered. When he raised his head, he saw that the four walls were made of precious mirrors placed one above another. In all there must have been a million mirrors, large and small and odd-shaped; square ones, round ones, and others. He couldn't count them exactly, but to mention just a few of them there were: a Heavenly Emperor mirror with an animal-shaped hook; a white jade heart mirror; a selfdoubt mirror; a blossom mirror; a wind mirror; a pair of bird mirrors, male and female; a mirror that looked like a purple cotton lotus; a water mirror; a nice terrace mirror; an iron faced lotus mirror; a me mirror; a man mirror. (XYB5.I5-,

TMM54)

The list goes on. However, Sun Wukong does not see reflections of himself; instead, inside every mirror is a world.

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Pilgrim said, "This'll be a lot of fun. Let me reflect a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, and a hundred thousand of me." He went to start mirroring himself, but instead ofhis own image, what he saw was that every mirror contained other heavens and earths, suns and moons, mountains and forests. (XYB 5.15-16; TMM 53-54) D o n g Y u e plays on the homophones of jing (mirror) and jing (world, sphere; visaya).26 T h i s tower is created by the Little M o o n King (Xiaoyue wang), whose name suggests desire. A s another character tells Sun W u k o n g , Little Moon King built this Tower of Myriad Mirrors. Every mirror takes care of one world; and each blade of grass, each tree, everything moving and still, is contained in these mirrors. Anything he might want to see comes before his eyes. So this tower was named "The Three-thousand Major Chilicosms!" (XYB 5.16; TMM 56) In short, each mirror represents or is one world or universe. T h e tower in many ways resembles the bodhisattva Maitreya's in Ru fajie pin,27 an ironic, parodic endeavor on the part of the author. In one mirror, Sun W u k o n g sees different responses to the announcement of successful candidates in the civil service examination. Another mirror leads to the World of the Ancients. In the N e w T a n g he has heard about a certain MountainRemoving Bell. Finding the idea attractive—that all mountains can be removed at a great saving of effort—he is determined to borrow the bell from the first emperor of the Qin. H e therefore transforms himself into a bronze-drilling insect and bores a hole in it. He stumbles into a pavilion and there finds himself in the company of the well-known beautiful women of Chinese history: Liizhu, or Green Pearl, Shi Chong's (A.D. 249-300) concubine, purchased for an unbelievable sum of money; Xishi, a fabulous beauty in Spring and Autumn Period (770-476 B.C.) w h o brought about the downfall of the state of W u and later became involved with the designer of the plot; and a certain Miss Sisi (Silk). 28 In an episode that suggests the real and the false Monkey Kings in Xiyouji

(chaps. 57-58) be-

fore the pilgrims come across the Mountain of Flames, these women and their attendants mistake Sun Wukong, transformed into a woman, for Y u meiren, or Lady Y u , the consort of the hegemon of C h u , Xiang Y u (232-202 B.C.). It is of some significance that Sun W u k o n g is transformed into her form without realizing it. In Ming-Qing popular imagination, Lady Y u was regarded as one who drains heroism from heroes. 29 T h e four play drinking games while complaining,

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most of the time, about men's infidelity. Taking leave of their company, Sun Wukong comes across none other than Xiang Y u . There, in the form of Lady Y u , Sun Wukong accuses the real Lady Y u of being a transformation of Sun Wukong. Xiang Y u thereupon kills his consort and begins a series of advances to curry favor from the false Lady Yu. T o while away the time, Xiang Y u boastfully begins a recitation of his well-known feats and achievements. In an attempt to free himself from these entanglements, Sun Wukong jumps into the World of the Future, where he is greeted by envoys from the underworld, who tell him that the king of hell has died and that they would like him to be the king's replacement. There he judges the case of the Song prime minister Qin Gui, who commits high treason by plotting with invaders to bring about the downfall of the dynasty. After this, Sun Wukong reenters the Tower of Myriad Mirrors, falls into a net, and is entangled by a web of red thread, which blatandy suggests emotional attachments and entanglements. He is freed by an old man. Until now his master has been harassed by the Little Moon King, who summons entertainers to sing the story cycle of the journey to the West. T h e monk finally decides to abandon the pilgrimage. Sun Wukong again wanders away. He overhears people talk about the play Prime Minister Sun: "Prime Minister Sun is no other than Sun Wukong. Look! His wife is so beautiful, his five sons so dashing. He started out as a monk, but came to such a good end! Such a good end!" ( X Y B 13.63; TMM166). Tripitaka, however, is taken to a certain beautiful woman. At that moment, some envoys have arrived and Tripitaka is proclaimed a general. Sun Wukong finds himself in the army of the Great Green-Killing General, as the monk insists on being called. T h e general makes plans for a battle symbolizing combat with desire, in which his army is overpowered and thrown into confusion. At this moment, Sun Wukong is awakened by the Elder of the Void (Xukong zhuren), who explains to him what has transpired. Sun Wukong therefore goes back to his master. There he finds that the Qing Fish Spirit, who has been holding him under his spell, has in the meantime metamorphosed into a new disciple of Tripitaka—one with evil intentions toward the monk. Sun Wukong kills him and reports what has transpired to his master. After this he ventures out to beg for alms again. Sun Wukong is puzzled by the qualities of these mirrors: they do not reflect himself. And he is unaware that the various worlds are all conjured up by himself. These different worlds can all be interpreted as his psychological activities, many of them negative. T h e scene of scholars viewing the result of the civil service examination may reflect his unconscious wish for a life as a scholar-official. His attempt to borrow the Mountain-Removing Bell is a comment on his desire to spare

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himself some effort: his goal is still the Western Paradise, but he does not want to get there the hard way. 30 Most conspicuous are the scenes with the beautiful women of Chinese history, reflecting his wish, at least unconsciously, for sexual gratification, a contrast to "old Monkey" in Xiyou ji, another testimony to the book's probing of human desire. His eavesdropping on people discussing the play Prime Minister Sun may be his wish for a secular way of life: married, successful, with every material wish fulfilled. Indeed, in chapter 15 he encounters his "son" on the battlefield. T h e human mind in confusion and wild speculation: this is the human condition as Dong Y u e sees it.

THE

DREAM

T h e Little Moon King in the Green Green World has devised this tower of myriad mirrors. He, however, is a manifestation of the Qing Fish Spirit, and all the worlds entered by Sun Wukong are conjured up by him, whose plan it is to entice Monkey so as to devour his master, Tripitaka. T h e demon's method is to make Sun Wukong fall into a dream. Thematically as well as structurally, the short novel is a record of this dream: how the protagonist falls into a dream and wakes up from i t : " T h e Tower of Myriad Mirrors is a dream of desire (qingmeng).'"ii Dong Y u e was obsessed with dreams:32 Zhaoyang mengshi (1643) is a short journal of his dreams.33 He considered forming a Dream Society and drafted "Mengshe yue," its "constitution," and wrote a notice for collecting dreams, "Zhengmeng pian." 34 There are many other works that are related to dreams in his prose and poetry, 35 and in his collected works there are pieces that he composed in his dreams.36 He described his penchant for dreams as an addiction. 37 He considered dreaming as a sort of medication when he was ill.38 He corresponded with friends about dreams, among them Yanjifang and Huang Zhouxing (styled Jiuyan).39 He wrote poems about his son's dream40 and was glad that a pageboy told him his dream.41 He seemed to enjoy dreams simply for their own sake. In a letter to Yanjifang, he wrote, In sickness my fondness for dreams intensified. W h e n I had a nice dream, visited extraordinary mountains and rivers [in dream], met with ancients, or read books that are not of this world, I was oveijoyed, and my illness would abate to some degree. W h e n I by chance had a vulgar dream of this world, I would feel out of sorts for days, vomiting to such an extent that I could not take in anything.

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CHAPTER 4 H o w e v e r , when I disclosed m y good dreams to others, they could not understand them. T h e y w o u l d offer to interpret these dreams for me, to see whether they portend fortune or disaster. M e n of this world are so laughable. 42

In his "Mengxiang zhi" (Description of dream land), Dong Yue envisioned the dream land as comprising seven parts: the land of the mysterious and fantastic; the land of mountains and rivers, where mountains are formidable and rivers gigantic; the land of the underworld; the land of consciousness, including Cities of Desire and Longing, all productions of obsessive thoughts; the land of wish fulfillment, where everyone's wishes come true; the land of the past; and the land of the future. All of these lands figure in Xiyou bu. Certain vignettes in Zhaoyang mengshi may also be regarded as forming a parallel with the novel—for instance, the Green Bamboo Cave and an entry about how he entered a bamboo stalk and met interesting people.43 Dong Yue uses dream to evoke a parallel world, as does the author ofXiyou ji. In the longer work, for example, Emperor Taizong's prime minister, Wei Zheng, kills a dragon in his dream, and its head suddenly drops out of the blue, an episode we have mentioned earlier. The dragon's execution occurs in Wei Zheng's dream. When Sun Wukong wreaks havoc in the underworld, he does this also in a dream, without actually leaving the Flower-Fruit Mountain. In his sleep he feels that he is summoned to the underworld because his lifespan has expired. He fights his way out, as can be expected, and when he comes back to the world of the living, he awakens from his dream. The philosophical foundation of the dream world that challenges our generally accepted assumptions about reality can be traced to the Taoist works Zhuangzi and Liezi, among others. In Dong Yue's description of the dreamscape, we see a powerful influence of Liezi, in particular the discussions in chapter 3. The following is from the Zhuangzi chapter "Discussion on Making All Things Equal": H e w h o dreams of drinking wine may w e e p when morning comes; he w h o dreams of weeping may in the morning go off to hunt. W h i l e he is dreaming he does not know it is a dream, and in his dream he may even try to interpret a dream. Only after he wakes does he know it was a dream. A n d someday there will be a great awakening when w e know that this is all a great dream. Y e t the stupid believe they are awake, busily and brightly assuming they understand things, calling this man ruler, that one herdsman—how dense! Confucius and you are both dreaming! A n d when I say you are dreaming, I am dreaming, too. 44

And this parable appears in Liezi (chap. 3):

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There was a man of Zheng who went to gather firewood in the moors, and came on a frightened deer. He stood in its way, struck it and killed it. Fearing that someone would see the deer, he quickly hid it in a ditch and covered it with brushwood. His j o y overwhelmed him. But soon afterwards he could not find the place where he had hidden it, and decided that he must have been dreaming. He came down the road humming to himself about the affair. A passerby heard him, acted on his words and took the deer. W h e n this man got home he told his wife: "Just now a woodcutter dreamed he had caught a deer, but he did not know where it was. N o w I have found it. His dream was a true one." "Isn't it rather that you dreamed you saw the woodcutter catch the deer? W h y should there be any woodcutter? Since you have really got the deer, isn't it your dream which was true?" "All I know is that I have got it. What do I care which of us was dreaming?" W h e n the woodcutter got home, he was not reconciled to his loss. T h a t night he had a true dream of the place where he hid the deer, and also of the man who found it. Next morning, guided by the dream, he sought out the man, and then went to law to contest the right to the deer. T h e case was referred to the C h i e f j u s t i c e , who said: "If in the first place you really did catch the deer, you are wrong to say you were dreaming. If you really dreamed that you caught it, you are wrong to say it actually happened. T h e other man did take your deer, yet contests your right to it. His wife also says that he recognized it in his dream as another man's deer, yet denies the existence of the man who caught it. N o w all I know is that here we have the deer. I suggest that y o u divide it between y o u . " It was reported to the lord of Zheng, who said: "Alas! Is the Chiefjustice going to dream that he has divided someone's deer?" 4 5

S u c h reflections challenge reality as w e k n o w it, a n d s u c h rhetoric recurs in the traditional fiction c o m m e n t a r y . T h e B u d d h i s t s h a v e e x p a n d e d the use o f this top o s : d r e a m is o n e o f the ten M a h a y a n a m e t a p h o r s o r similes (shiyu)

expounding

the illusory nature o f this w o r l d : life is a d r e a m , or life is like a d r e a m . 4 6 T h i s is the m o d e l o f a h o s t o f short stories, dramatic w o r k s , a n d n o v e l s . M o s t c o n s p i c u o u s e x a m p l e s are d r e a m a d v e n t u r e s in Taipingguangji,47

S h e n j i j i ' s (fl. 780) " Z h e n -

z h o n g j i " ( T h e w o r l d inside a p i l l o w ) , a n d L i G o n g z u o ' s (fl. ninth c e n t u r y ) " N a n k e taishou z h u a n " ( T h e p r e f e c t o f s o u t h branch), 4 8 as w e l l as the dramatic w o r k s b y T a n g X i a n z u , Handanji

( R e c o r d o f H a n d a n ) a n d Nanke ji ( R e c o r d o f

s o u t h b r a n c h ) , w h i c h w e r e d e v e l o p e d from the tales b y S h e n a n d Li. 4 9 In

Han-

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danji, of the thirty scenes, twenty-six deal with the unfolding of the protagonist's dream, beginning with "Rumeng" (Entering dream, scene 4) and ending with "Shengwu" (Awakening, scene 29).50 T h e impact of these works is clearly felt in Xiyou bu. Indeed, chapter 13 mentions a play entitled Gaotang yanyu meng (Dreams on Gaotang Terrace), most likely a play of the same nature. This play is staged together with the one about Sun Wukong, this time in the role of Prime Minister Sun, a stark contrast. Toward the end of this chapter, the audience seems to have confused Gaotang yanyu meng with Nankeji. T h e end of the play is a warning about the illusory nature of the world: one should wake up from it. Ironically, the audience has enjoyed the play about Prime Minister Sun more: " The Dream of South Branch is tedious. Only Prime Minister Sun is ever played well" (XYB 13.63; TMM166). Xiyou bu is an extended treatment of this topos, 51 a "literalization." 52 T h e author explores the intrinsic relationship between reality and illusion: what happens in the dream is not only relevant to the dream but also has further philosophical and soteriological implications. It is as if the dream is a form of Dharma, an agent that brings about enlightenment. T h e point has been hinted at by Dong Yue's precursors, but perhaps not so clearly and boldly pronounced as in his hands. Dream here constitutes both snares on the road toward enlightenment and a means to this enlightenment: "From the Land of Dream one can cross, from the West, the bitter sea of suffering, climb up the Spiritual Terrace (Lingtai), and see now India. This is called the straight way of Candana. However, those deluded mistakenly look for wayward paths. Meandering for several hundred steps they enter the place of winding springs, called the Land of Ghosts. T h e y can see the sun, the moon, or the stars no more." 53 In short, the emphasis is no longer on the brevity and transience of life, although there is a sense of the vanity of human life. And Xiyou bu is not advocating merely escapism, as its predecessor does. O n the contrary, it almost encourages involvement: the world of illusion must be experienced. Without it the pilgrimage is incomplete, as is enlightenment so gained. And dream can be interpreted as a means to achieving this involvement. But dreams are illusory, which comments on the nature of the "real" world we take for granted. One has to wake up from the dream. Yet paradoxically one has to dream in the first place in order to wake up. As the Tower of Myriad Mirrors emphasizes involvement and experience, the trope of dream emphasizes the other side, the illusory nature of such adventures: what so engrossed Sun Wukong is but the vicissitudes of a dream. Finally, he is awakened—the Elder of the Void tells him, "I've watched you living

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in this false universe for quite some time, and I've come specially to rouse you" {XYB 16.72; TMM183).

DOUBLES:

CONCLUSION

The ordeals Sun Wukong endures are different from those in the parent novel. Since the central issue is human desire, Xiyou bu leads us ever deeper into the recesses of the protagonist's psyche. In the author's own commentary, "Pilgrim's entering New Tang was the first stage. Entering the Green Green World was the second stage. Entering the mirrors was the third stage. As he passes from stage to stage, each stage is one stage more perilous" {XYB 4.18; TMM 60). At the beginning we see Sun Wukong entering a series of fantastic worlds and having a series of fantastic adventures, which culminate at the Tower of Myriad Mirrors. Then we realize that Sun Wukong is being enticed in a dream by the Qing Fish Spirit, the demon of this book. Finally, we come to understand the configuration of the demon—the Qing Fish Spirit—and Sun Wukong himself. On the one hand, all of the demons and the demonic worlds are transformations of the demon Qing Fish Spirit; in a way, all are his doubles. On the other hand, the demon is none other than Sun Wukong himself, or another aspect of himself; they are his doubles, too. Consider the birth of these two figures: When Heaven and Earth first split apart, the pure essence ascended, and the turbid sank. T h e half-pure and half-turbid remained in the middle, and that is man. T h a t which was mostly pure and only in small measure turbid returned to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, giving birth to Wukong. T h a t which was mosdy turbid and only in small measure pure returned to Little Moon Cave, giving birth to the Qing Fish. T h e Qing Fish and W u k o n g were born the same hour, the only difference being that W u k o n g belonged to goodness, and the Qing Fish to evil. However, the Qing Fish's supernatural powers are ten times greater than Wukong's. {XYB

16.72; TMM 184)

Thus, we can say that the Qing Fish Spirit is but Sun Wukong's shadow, something to be eliminated from his psyche or his self. In fact, the pair come into being at the same time (the way Sun Wukong and the Bull Demon [Niumowangj are born in Xiyou jt), but are endowed with different attributes: Sun Wukong possesses positive qualities, whereas the demon is endowed with the opposite. In terms of supernatural power, however, the demon is ten times more resourceful

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than Sun Wukong. T h i s reminds us of an adage in Chinese religion: when power of T a o grows one foot, that of the demon increases ten feet (dao gaoyichi, mo gao yizhang). Further, concerning the characters in the dream, the Elder of the V o i d tells Sun Wukong: There were no springtime lads and lasses; They were the root of the Qing Fish. There was no New Emperor; He was the energy of the Qing Fish. (XYB 16.72; TMM184-185) T h e y are all manifestations of the demon, the Demon of Desire, the Qing Fish Spirit. A n d finally, in the last analysis, there is no demon, there is no Qing Fish: the demon, the Qing Fish, is but an avatar of Sun W u k o n g himself, his own shadow, his desire: There is no Qing Fish; It is but Pilgrim's desire (Xingzhe qing). (XYB 16.73; TMM 186) In short, the characters conjured up in his dream under the demon's spell also point to the protagonist, since the demon is a manifestation of something within himself, and the characters he encounters are but representations of what is in his own psyche. T h i s harks back to the flaming mountain episode in Xiyouji,

where

the fire, so to speak, is set by Monkey himself. It is the fire within his own heart/ mind. In the first chapter of Xiyou bu, his master comments about the peonies, " T h e peonies are not red; / T h e disciple's heart is red" {XYB 1.2; TMM 25). T h e redness of the peonies is a continuation of the fire of the flaming mountain, as we have discussed. It is only fitting for D o n g Y u e , w h o later took the Buddhist tonsure, to offer psychological insights, for some of the chief concerns of that religion can be described as psychological. A s Padmal de Silva puts it so succinctly, The considerable interest shown by modern students in Buddhist psychology becomes entirely understandable when it is realized that there is a great deal of psychological content in Buddhism. Some parts of the canonical texts, as well as later writings, are examples of explicit psychological theorizing, while many of the others present psychological assumptions and much material of psychological relevance.... The practice of Buddhism, as a religion and a way of life, involves much in terms of psychological change. The ultimate religious goal of

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the arahant state both reflects and requires major psychological changes. The path towards the achievement of this goal, the Noble Eightfold Path, involves steps which can only be described as psychological.... As the goal is attainable essentially through one's own efforts, it is not surprising that Buddhism has much to say about one's thinking and behavior.54 Although this statement refers to early Buddhism, it also holds true for other forms of the religion, including its Chinese manifestations. 55 Hence the significance of the T o w e r of Myriad Mirrors, with one mirror representing one world, which in turn is a state of mind, a representation of the mind at work in the phenomenal world. Consequendy, the characters in the dream are all expressions of Sun Wukong's mind, his self, his ego. A s the anonymous critic writes: What deludes and bewitches Wukong is Wukong [himself]. Living in this world or leaving this world, joy, anger, sadness, happiness, the ego, the other, the gathering together, the parting—all these delusory worlds are productions of the mind. The mind is the mirror. There are ten thousand minds within one mind; hence there are ten thousand mirrors within this mirror. If one enters the mirror, one wanders [blindly] in the world of life and death without knowing it, all the while thinking that he is living in the real world.56 T h e profusion of mirrors suggests the liability of the mind to conjure up different worlds and entertain conflicting intentions. A n episode in chapter 79 of Xiyouji

sets this issue in high relief. T h e r e , Sun W u k o n g , disguised as his mas-

ter, is forced by a demon, transformed into a venerable Taoist, to surrender his heart to the king. Sun rips open his breast and, thereupon, "[a] mass of hearts rolled out": The spurious monk took those bloody hearts and manipulated them one by one for all to see: a red heart, a yellow heart, an avaricious heart, a greedy heart, an envious heart, a petty heart, a competitive heart, an ambitious heart, a scornful heart, a murderous heart, a vicious heart, a fearful heart, a cautious heart, a perverse heart, a nameless obscure heart, and all kinds of wicked hearts. (XYJ 79.1006; ^^4:56) Sun Wukong is referred to by the demon as "a monk of many hearts." Here the mirrors can be regarded as an extension of the many hearts. According to Buddhism,

io6

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4

the many hearts or minds are something to be purged. Their exposure, or an experience of them, can be regarded as a means of purging them from one's self.57 In Xiyou bu Sun Wukong is said to have entered the belly of the monster again, the way he enters Raksasa's belly; only this time he is drawn into it, instead of entering it voluntarily. A s the author points out, " W h e n the Great Sage was in the belly of the Qing Fish, he didn't know it was the Qing Fish. Moreover, he didn't know when he leaped out of the Qing Fish that he who shortly would kill the Qing Fish was none other than the Great Sage himself. T h e deluded man and the enlightened man were not two men" 58 ( X Y B 1 ; 7 M M 193). T h e use of doubling devices pervades Xiyou bu. For instance, the little monkeys, transformed out ofhis hairs, seem to have their own wills and take on different personalities, and hence are his doubles. T h e y act somewhat independently and talk back to Sun Wukong. W h e n he asks the troop of monkeys to gather intelligence, they turn out to be quarrelsome. One of them even becomes intoxicated and falls into the snare of a female demon. Pilgrim picked up his feet to walk away, but he heard the hairs on his body say, "Don't go, Great Sage. W e have a friend who hasn't returned yet." Pilgrim stopped and stood still. He saw a hair-Pilgrim drunkenly climbing the hill from the southwest. Pilgrim asked, "Where did you go?" T h e hair-Pilgrim replied, "I was walking close to a tower where there was a girl ofjust sixteen with a face like peach blossoms. When she saw me outside her window she grabbed me and pulled me in. W e sat shoulder-to-shoulder and she poured wine in my mouth till I was drunk as mud." Pilgrim was enraged. He clenched his fist in front of the hair-monkey and beat and scolded him wildly. He said, " Y o u dog! I let you go for a minute and you get tangled up with the Demon of Desire!" T h e hair-Pilgrim wailed and wept, and could do nothing but jump onto Pilgrim's body. Having then gathered all his hairs, Pilgrim descended the Hill of Grief. (XYB 11.52; TMM137-138,

modified)

Sun Wukong might have been scolding himself all the while without realizing it. He has done the same when he warned Zhu Bajie, "Don't have upside-down dreams" ( X Y B 1.5; TMM 31), while he himself enters the dream. In another instance Sun Wukong is trapped in the Litde Moon King's Palace of Entangling Vines of the Hexagram Oppression and is tighdy bound by the red threads, a stock image of emotional entanglements. At this moment a wise old man comes to his rescue. Sun Wukong thanks him profusely and inquires about his

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identity. T h e elder tells him that he is Sun Wukong, and the personal history he relates to Sun is none other than Sun's own. Sun Wukong thinks that it is the sixeared macaque incident all over again, but it turns out to be his own true spirit: T h e old man drew his sleeves and left. He shouted, "This is what's called saving one's self [by one's self]! T o o bad you regard the unreal as real, real as unreal!" A beam of gold light struck into Pilgrim's eyes, and the old man's form vanished. Only then did Pilgrim realize that the apparition had been his own true spirit. He quickly made a deep bow to thank himself. (XYB 10.48; TMM130)

This suggests an interpretative strategy that is relevant to the whole short novel: can we not say that the Elder of the Void (Xukongzkuren; owner of the void) is also his true spirit, taking the form of his avatar? Given the assumptions about reality in Chinese Buddhism in particular and in Chinese culture in general, I think this interpretation is highly plausible. In chapter 11 a hair-monkey reports to Sun Wukong: "[A]n immortal stood on each leaf of a spiraea tree. Each immortal held a pair of fish-shaped castanets and sang loudly to himself: 'Return to the thing-less self, / Return to the self-less things, / T h e Void is host [zhuren]; / Things and I are all guests'" (XYB 11.52; TMM 137). T h e author has taken a further step by coining the term "Xukongzkuren, " a point the anonymous critic highlights. 59 T o sum up, in Xiyou bu our Monkey is alone in a demonic world, facing all the challenges by himself: no buddhas, bodhisattvas, or other deities come to his rescue. As happens in the second chapter, he summons the local deities, but, contrary to his expectations, no one appears. He strikes his cudgel, only to find that he is striking thin air. In the last chapter the deities explain to him that they are unable to heed his beckoning in that world. T h e challenges he faces, however, are none other than his self, his ego—in short, his desire. He himself conjures up the worlds, which represent the psychological tensions within his mind. T h e y are a production of his mind. It is therefore he who bewitches and deludes himself. Moreover, only he can save himself from the spell, which comes from himself in the first place. Thus, Sun Wukong has himself to be thankfiil to, himself to kill, and, in Freudian terms, himself to punish: 60 for within his ego or self different aspects and conflicting components are reconciled and united, with the negative elements purged. He kills the demon, thereby purging himself of the demonic within. He has come to terms with his desire, instead of repressing it, as he is wont to do in Xiyou ji. Finally, the whole dream universe may be regarded as a double world in reference to the one the protagonist knows and lives in, and the myriad

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mirrors in the tower, revealing different worlds as they do, are reflections of the protagonist himself after all, as mirrors always reflect their viewer. Sun Wukong's entry into desire is also ajourney into his mind, for it is there that desires arise and demons take different forms. Hence the book manifests Buddhist psychology with an inventiveness that suggests modern techniques. This book could have attracted Jorge Luis Borges had he but known it (after all, he includes one episode from Xiyouji, that ofWei Zheng killing a dragon in dream, in one of the collections he edits, and two episodes from Honglou meng in another one).61 Xiyou bu has all the elements of what the South American writer calls fantastic literature. James E. Irby, in his introduction to Borges' Labyrinths, writes: "Borges once claimed that the basic devices of fantastic literature are only four in number: the work within the work, the contamination of reality by dream, the voyage in time, and the double. These are both his essential themes—the problematic nature of the world, ofknowledge, of time, of the self—and his essential techniques of construction." 62 What I mean by the fantastic is informed by Irby's analysis of Borges' works. It encompasses both Xiyou bu's theme and its technique of construction. Indeed, Xiyou bu may be regarded as a consummate work of fantastic literature, for it utilizes all four devices that characterize the fantastic according to Borges and his critic. T o enumerate examples in Irby's order: first, Sun Wukong hears a chantefable about the westward pilgrimage and learns about a play, both about himself, which can be regarded as works within the work. 63 Dong Yue himself draws attention to this characteristic in his own commentary.64 Second, the novel is a record of Sun Wukong's dream. Third, he travels backward and forward in time: he visits both the World of the Ancients and the World of the Future (Sun Wukong, a Tang figure, judges Qin Gui, the Song traitor). The author himselfalso explains the protagonist's travel in time.65 Fourth, the book consists of a series of doubles in terms of both theme and technique. The doubling may be considered as a consummation of the fantastic elements in Xiyou bu, for all the elements the critic Irby has in mind boil down to ajuxtaposition of two or more similar or contrasting sets of persons, events, worlds. Being the inveterate, consummate literati writer he was, Dong Yue recycled materials from Chinese literary history. As one steeped in an acute understanding of the intrinsic relationship between illusion and reality—the former certainly includes the creation of the illusory yet not totally unreal world of the short novel— the author is extremely conscious of his role as a novelist. As Hegel points out, "On every page Dong Yue has presented further proofs of his extreme selfconsciousness as a writer and of his skill as an amateur psychologist in the area of

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dreams." 66 This self-consciousness also manifests itself in the novel's reference to itself, and thus the doubling devices that characterize the book take on self-reflexive dimensions.67 While creating this fictional piece on desire, Dong Yue walked precariously on the tightrope of Buddhist precepts—understandably, for he later took the Buddhist tonsure himself. True, he allows the character of his creation to experience some forms of human emotion—albeit in a dream—rather than repress them or escape from them, but his attitude toward the emotions is still negative. It reflects a deep-seated insecurity, a sense of horror at attachment not uncommon among traditional Chinese novelists, who do not know how to come to terms with desire after all. Xiyou bu's encounter with desire is not complete and still borders on the escapist. As a result, the treatment of desire lacks the profundity and pathos that are characteristic of the eighteenth-century masterpiece Honglou meng, which further probes the expressive possibilities of this subgenre. It brings the search for the meaning of enlightenment, the intrinsic relationship between desire and liberation, to new heights and represents the culmination of the subgenre. Perhaps we can say this ofXiyou bu: there the buds of desire are nipped before they come into bloom. Honglou meng, however, breaks new ground and departs from Buddhist prescriptions, even as the basic structures are retained and pushed to their full aesthetic limits.

CHAPTER

5

The "Red Chamber59

I've savored in full all the flavors of this bumpy

world...

—Su Shi (1037-1101)

XlYOUJI

A N D HONGLOU

MENG:

ANTITHETICAL

PARALLELISM

The Qing critic You Tong considered the eighty-one ordeals in Xiyouji as a parallel to the fifty-three visitations by Sudhana in Huayan jing's Ru fajiepin—but in an antithetical way (fandui). You Tong pictured the configuration of the two works by evoking a device in parallel prose, fandui, which is defined by Liu Xie (ca. 465-520) as "a couplet of contrast... in which different ways of reasoning meet on common ground (li shu qu he)."1 This pronouncement certainly has more implications than he could possibly have been aware of. First, it points to the structural affinities between the Buddhist sutra and the Ming novel. Second, it points to the novel's departure from the sutra's paradigm. For instance, Huayan jing concentrates on the Bildung of the pilgrim Sudhana through an encounter with spiritual benefactors, whereas the transformation of the Xiyouji party is effected, mostly, in its conflict with demons and evil spirits. The Huayan jing stories result from positive or good karma, which leads Sudhana to the right path; in Xiyouji bad karma is the order of the day, and the journey is one of expiation— even bodhisattvas contrive, and contribute to, their ordeals. IfXiyouji parallels Huayan jing, albeit in an antithetical way, the same can be

110

The "Red Chamber"

ill

said, perhaps even more so, about the relationship between Honglou meng and the Ming masterpiece—although what strikes the reader at first glance is perhaps the contrast between texts that seem polar opposites. For instance, Xiyouji is a journey narrative, set mostly in the wilderness, whereas Honglou meng centers on an aristocratic family and the family garden. Xiyouji,

for its part, is a record of the

struggles between the party of pilgrims and the demons and evil spirits, whereas the protagonist of Honglou meng spends most of his time engaged in literary and artistic pursuits and mingling with his female cousins, characters of great physical beauty and superior intellectual refinement and accomplishment. Thus, the Ming work is generally regarded as the culmination of the "novel of gods and demons," whereas the Qing masterpiece is regarded as a paradigm of the "novel of manners." In short, Xiyouji is concerned with the completion of the pilgrimage, while Honglou meng focuses on desire in all its forms. For all that can be regarded as antithetical, there are connections between the two works that shed mutually illuminating light on both. For one, they share an identical soteriological structure and narrative pattern. In the most obvious parallel, the Honglou Meng protagonist Jia Baoyu has affinities with Sun Wukong and Tripitaka: he comes to this world, experiences the full range of human attachment, and in the process achieves enlightenment (although the book is far more complicated than this). T h e paradigm as dramatized in Xiyouji is revised, reversed, even subverted, given the intermediary oiXiyou bu. In this respect the statements about the relationship between Honglou meng and Xiyouji seem especially convincing. T h e author of Honglou meng may have had at least the structural design of the Ming novel in mind when he wrote his masterwork, the crowning monument of classical Chinese fiction.

T O W A R D THE IMPERFECT W O R L D : T H E

STRUCTURE

Gentle Reader, What, you may ask, was the origin of this book? Though the answer to this question may at first seem to border on the absurd, reflection will show that there is a great deal more in it than meets the eye. (Honglou meng, chapter l [HLM 1.1; SS 1:47]) I laugh at Gonggong: for what should he have been so indignant As to topple the heaven-supporting pillar? I laugh at Niiwa, who busied herself with the mending of the firmament

112

CHAPTER 5 A n d left this stone at this quiet corner. T h e track is overgrown with wild grass; above it hang wisps of smoke. Stone, I, leaning on a walking cane, have come to see you. L y i n g on the green moss, A n d patting y o u , I ask: H o w many thunderstorms have y o u weathered in these long years? ( X i n Qiji [ 1 1 4 0 - 1 2 0 7 ] ) 2

Xiyouji opens with the birth of the stone monkey from a cosmic egg, which suggests the creation story of the god figure Pan'gu. It dramatizes how the "essence of Heaven and Earth" (tianzhen dixiu), or the "body of reality" (yiti zhenru), assumes afiniteform to complete the attainment of the Great Way. The stone monkey's experiences on this earth are a means to demonstrate to the reader how the Great Way works: it manifests itself by showing the reader how it functions. This, in a significant way, is also true of the Qing masterwork. Honglou meng opens with another stone, one that is closely related to the goddess Niiwa.3 It also begins in a remote, primordial time and space, at the Mountain of Great Wilderness (Dahuang shan), which in Chinese mythology is at the edge of the world, the place where the sun and moon set.4 The goddess repairs the rift in the firmament with huge stones. The mythology holds that the rift is caused by the god Gonggong, who, losing a contest with Zhuanxu for rulership, knocks his head against Mount Buzhou, which causes the collapse of the pillar supporting the firmament.5 Mount Buzhou sits in a corner of the Great Wilderness beyond the Northwestern Seas, a circling mountain range broken in one place (bu he).6 Our story originates from here. The goddess amalgamates 36,501 building blocks7—each measuring twelve zhang by twenty-four square8—and has used 36,500. The story begins with the one superfluous and liminal stone. This may be an allusion to Zhuangzi (chap. 6): Those who "wander beyond the realm" (you fangzhiwai zhe) "look upon life as a swelling tumor, a protruding wen"9 (fuzhui xuanyou)—in short, something superfluous.10 The commentator Zhiyanzhai (Red Inkstone)11 writes humorously, an indulgence afforded to the traditional masters of this form: "Around this superfluous Stone have evolved so many episodes and events. Had it been used to fill up the crack on the earth to level the ground, as it should, since it had already missed the chance to mend the sky, then there would have not been this much absurdity" (ZYZ 1.5), referring to another feat ofNiiwa's: she also mended the ground of the earth. Or the book begins with a mistaken calculation on the part of the goddess, something imperfect, which has far-reaching implications in the text.

The "Red Chamber"

"3

T h e unused Stone, meanwhile, has developed some kind of self-consciousness —a self or an ego—as a result of the discontent he feels, for according to Buddhism one does not become aware of the self or ego until one feels the pain it causes. 12 T h e Stone knows that he (the author obviously refers to the Stone as "he") is different from all others—is superfluous and liminal—and with good reason he is ashamed of himself. One day, he overhears a conversation about the splendor in the human realm between two supernatural

figures—Mangmang

dashi (Imper-

vioso) the Buddhist and Miaomiao zhenren (Mysterioso) the Taoist, who happen to have wandered to the edge of the world. These two symbolize the transcendental ideal in Chinese literature, always hovering above and ready to descend when the occasion is deemed right, like, for example, the Buddhist arhat Pindola (Bintoulu zhunzhe) and the Taoist immortal from the Isle of Penglai, Shan Xuanqing, in the Ming dramatist T u Long's Tanh.ua ji.13 T h e Stone's mind, however, turns toward the world below, and he beseeches the two supernatural figures to take him down there in what is a parody of the literary convention.

One day while it was moaning and groaning, it happened to glimpse from afar a Buddhist and a Taoist coming along of unusual carriage and extraordinary aspect. Now speaking, now smiling, they arrived at the base of Blue-Channel Peak, sat themselves down beside the Stone, and began to chat in a gay bantering fashion. At first they spoke of "Cloud and Mountain," "Fog and Sea," "Divinity and Sylph," "Mystery and Illusion"; later they came to "Splendor and Riches" among mortals of the Red Dust. As the Stone listened, worldly desires were unconsciously aroused, and it longed to go among mortals to savor their splendor and riches. While it regretted being a coarse fool, it nevertheless could not resist sputtering human words: "Great Master!", said the Stone to the Monk, "I am a foolish thing that doesn't know its manners. I happened to overhear you both discussing the magnificence and luxuries of the mortal world and my heart is filled with yearning. Although in substance I am only a coarse fool, my nature partakes of some spirituality—upon seeing the divine forms and immortal bodies of you two Masters, I became certain you are uncommon.... Should you show some compassion and carry me to the Red Dust where I may enjoy myself for several years in the realm of wealth and in the homeland of soft, warm affection, I would cherish forever your vast favor and not forget you for myriad ages." (HLM 1.2; Miller, Masks ofFiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 37-38)14 T h e two uncanny supernatural figures, knowing better, try to dissuade the Stone:

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When the two Divines heard this, they both giggled like idiots. "Bless you! Bless you!" they exclaimed. "There actually are some happy affairs in the Red Dust, it's just that one cannot depend on them forever. Then again, there is 'discontent within bliss, numerous demons in auspicious affairs,' a phrase of eight words all of which belong tighdy bound together. In the twinkling of an eye, sorrow is born of utter happiness, men are no more, and things change. In the last analysis, it's all but a dream and the myriad realms return to nothingness—really, it's better not to go at all!" [HLM 1.2-3; Miller, Masks ofFiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 38) T h e Stone, however, is unwilling to heed this advice. T h e religious figures finally give in. "This too is a destiny of non-being giving birth to being, and a situation where quietude reaches an extreme, thought of action arises," they said with a sigh. "Since that's how it is, we will carry you to enjoy yourself—but when you become dissatisfied—absolutely no later regrets!" "Naturally," replied the Stone. "Naturally." The Buddhist then spoke again: "One may say your nature partakes of a divine spirit, yet you are also a plain fool. Moreover, there is nothing about you which would indicate you are rare and precious—you're just a stepping stone, and that's about it. When the kalpa ends you will be setded—what would you say to that?" When the Stone heard this, it could not thank the Immortal enough. {HLM 1.3; Miller, Masks ofFiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 38-39) T h e story proper begins with another mistake: the Stone's rash desire comes true despite the protestations and prophecies of the two supernatural beings. T h e Stone thusfalls, so to speak, as a result of his desire to participate in the happiness and enjoyment of human life, a manifestation of the Buddhist view. A s James W . Boyd points out, " T h e world is not considered evil by the Buddhist. T h a t is, life is not principally experienced as offensive, malignant and filled with horrendum. Quite the contrary, it is precisely life's fascination that makes it so problematic for the Buddhist.'" 5 But where have the two figures taken the Stone? T h i s question brings us from the world of Greensickness Peak (Qinggeng feng; Miller: Blue Channel Peak)—the word for green or blue, "qing," suggests "qing," desire, a device for which other works, among them Xiyou bu, have prepared us—to the mysterious West (in Chinese imagination, India), to the shore of the Spirit River (Xifang

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"5

Linghe), another name for the sacred river Ganges, 1 6 a significant point often neglected in scholarly works about the novel. There, a certain Divine Luminescent Stone-in-Waiting (Shenying shizhe) in the Court of Sunset Glow has watered the beautiful Crimson Pearl Flower (Jiangzhu xiancao) with sweet dews, a benevolent act that has enabled her "to shed her vegetable shape and assume the form of a girl" ( H L M 1.8; SS 1:53). T h e Spirit River in the West, the Ganges, is certainly a reference to Buddhist cosmology and geography. Ironically, even the Buddhist paradise of bliss cannot escape from karmic reciprocity. As the commentator writes, "Endless karmic debt and entanglement: it is like this even in the West, let alone people of this world!" (ZYZ 1.18). T h e Crimson Pearl Flower senses her karmic debt to the Divine Luminescent Stone-in-Waiting and plans to repay it in another karmic cycle. The consciousness that she owed the stone something for his kindness in watering her began to prey on her mind and ended by becoming an obsession. "I have no sweet dew here that I can repay him with," she would say to herself. "The only way in which I could perhaps repay him would be with the tears shed during the whole of a mortal lifetime if he and I were ever to be reborn as humans in the world below." (HLM 1.8; SS 1:53) T h u s , both Crimson Pearl and the Luminescent Stone are ready for reincarnation. It is in the midst of these amorous souls waiting for reincarnation that the Stone left unused by the goddess now finds himself. In another version (Cheng-jia ben), the Luminescent Stone is actually the Stone left unused by the goddess, and the Court of Sunset Glow is part of the Land of Illusion. 17 Many details indicate otherwise, however. Neither the court on the Spirit River (the Ganges) nor Crimson Pearl and the Luminescent Stone seems to belong to Land of Illusion, which is a different world, a world above that of the Court of Sunset Glow. T h e Buddhist mahasattva narrates the story to the Taoist, overheard by Zhen Shiyin, a character extremely important to the frame story: Because of this strange affair, Disenchantment has got together a group of amorous young souls, of which Crimson Pearl is one, and intends to send them down into the world to take part in the great illusion of human life. And as today happens to be the day on which this stone [Luminescent Stone-in- Waiting) isfated to go into the world too, lam taking him [the Stone of the Greensickness Peak] with me to Disenchantments tribunal for the purpose of getting him registered and

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sent down to earth with the rest ofthese romantic creatures. (HLM 1.8-9; SS 1:53> emphasis added) T h e Buddhist sage also makes this point earlier: There is a batch of lovesick souls awaiting incarnation in the world below whose fate is due to be decided this very day. I intend to take advantage of this opportunity to slip our little friend in amongst them and let him have a taste of human life along with the rest. (HLM 1.7; SS 1:52) T h e author has made it clear that the monk intends to exploit the opportunity that p o p s u p at the L a n d of Illusion to slip the Stone in (jiadai). Another detail also supports this. T h e Buddhist mahasattva

said to the Stone previously:

"You'rejust a stepping stone, and that's about it!" T h e term "stepping stone" (dianjiao) also indicates that he is not the central figure of the drama; it exists for the sake of someone else: the most amorous soul to be reincarnated, the Luminescent Stone. 1 8 T h e Stone tempered by the goddess Niiwa depends on the Luminescent Stone for his existence; moreover, the former, with all his supernatural attributes, is to protect the latter from the harms of this world and in some way help him with his intelligence. T h e relationship between the two stones is like that between Tripitaka and his disciples, represented by Sun W u k o n g . Sun W u k o n g is to help and protect the master and in the process achieve his o w n salvation. However, it is Tripitaka w h o is to fetch the scriptures. In Honglou meng, the central figure is the reincarnated Luminescent Stone; and the Stone from Greensickness Peak is much more passive than his counterpart Sun W u k o n g in the Ming novel. T h e commentator Zhiyanzhai clearly distinguishes between the Stone, w h o becomes a narrator, and the Luminescent Stone, w h o becomes Jia Baoyu, the protagonist. 19 In chapter 1, when the Buddhist figure tells the Stone that he is to take him "to a certain brilliant successful poetical cultivated aristocratic elegant delectable luxurious opulent locality on a little trip" (HLM 1.3; SS 1:48),

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the commentator writes, " W h y not add another sentence to this effect: to choose an unsurpassable romantic soul, unseen in history (jueshi qingchi), to be your master (or owner, zhuren)?'n {ZYZ 1.8) T h i s peerless romantic soul (unprecedented throughout history) certainly refers to Jia Baoyu; he is to be our Stone's master. In chapter 5 Baoyu visits the Land of Illusion in a dream. T h e goddess Disenchantment asks Baoyu to follow along with a script while watching the performance of the Dream of the Red Chamber suite (Hawkes: Dream of Golden Days), telling him, " Y o u need to be an insider in order to understand fully." T h e commentator writes about the three Chinese characters (gezhongren), the term "insider" (or one with personal experiences of something, the initiated): " T h e three characters are significant. I wonder w h o the 'insider' refers to. Is Baoyu an insider? Meanwhile, is Stone also an insider? Is the author an insider too? Is the reader an insider as well?" (ZYZ5.124). 2 0 Clearly, the commentator differentiates between the Stone and the protagonist Baoyu. T h i s has further significance in terms of narration, to be addressed later in this chapter. In other words, the Stone is to experience life vicariously, like a reader reading a text, with only occasional involvement. Since he has been tempered by the goddess, the Stone is already endowed with a superior intelligence. In his existence in this world, he enhances Baoyu's intelligence, so that when he leaves later in the novel, Baoyu becomes almost an imbecile. T h e Stone is also endowed with magic powers, with which he is to protect Baoyu. T h e power, as the story unfolds, is gradually depleted as a result of his apparent enjoyment of all the wealth and splendor, opulence and elegance, youth and exuberance: in chapter 25, when Baoyu is cast under an evil spell, the Stone is unable to protect him. It takes the Buddhist mahasattva

chanting magic incantations to restore part of his

power to him. In his new existence, the Stone at Greensickness Peak is transformed into a piece o f j a d e in the mouth of the baby w h o is to become Jia Baoyu, the reincarnation of the Luminescent Stone by the Spirit River in the West. T h e Stone, in the form of a jade pendant, records—and analyzes—all the happenings he witnesses at the Jia house, one of the most prosperous in the human realm below, though already in decline. T h i s situation can be compared to an imagined scenario: Sun W u k o n g keeps a record of Tripitaka's journey and later transmits it to others. Readers are held in thrall by the life experience o f j i a Baoyu, the reincarnation of the Luminescent Stone, in particular by his propensity for passionate love. A s the author assures us, Jia Baoyu surpasses all the other romantic souls in history in the intensity of his love. His story has portrayed love to the fullest.

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As is predicted by the Buddhist mahasattva—the usual case with literary prophecies, which are bound to be accompanied by a sense ofirony 21 —the Stone, too, finds that life on the earth is disappointing, his initial exhilaration notwithstanding. This parallels the experience ofjia Baoyu, the reincarnation of the Luminescent Stone, who renounces the world by becoming a Buddhist monk after a period of passionate involvement. Finally, the Stone returns to Greensickness Peak of the Great Fable Mountains (or Mountains of the Great Wilderness) and inscribes his mortal experiences on himself. Thus, the Stone becomes a text, one that points to two things: to Baoyu's Bildung and to his own. The latter point, however, is sometimes missed altogether amid all the complexities. I emphasize the distinction between the Stone of Greensickness Peak and the Luminescent Stone who is reincarnated as Jia Baoyu because this is a crucial issue in the novel's narrative structure. It has a conspicuous bearing on the complicated development of the fiction of enlightenment and its interpretation. Here I am concerned with the framing story: the journey, the "little trip," of the central characters and the Stone and its allusion to Xiyouji. We have to consider the dichotomy between the West and the East. In the geography of China, the West consists of highlands, plateaus, and mountain ranges, whereas the East is mosdy plains. Hence, most rivers flow eastward. In mythology, when the pillar supporting the firmament is broken, the world tilts toward the East. Xiyouji is a westward journey, symbolizing the attempt to rise above this world, as is pointed out by the commentator Zhang Shushen (fl. 1749): "Why should the Western Paradise be reached in order to obtain the scriptures? It is because the northwestern part of the sky is higher and the southeastern part of the earth is lower (dixian dongnan), which demonstrates that a man of character learns and grows, starting from the lower in order to reach higher."22 The journey takes the pilgrims higher and higher, where there is no end to the mountains for them to climb. Honglou meng forms a neat contrast. After a prologue, the story proper opens with these words: "Long, long ago the world was tilted downwards towards the south-east (dixian dongnan); and in that lower-lying south-easterly part of the earth there is a city called Suzhou; and in Suzhou the district around the Changmen Gate is reckoned one of two or three wealthiest and most fashionable quarters in the world of men" (HLM 1.7; SS 1:52). It harks back to the description of the general setting for the plot: a "brilliant, successful, poetical, cultivated, aristocratic, elegant, delectable, luxurious, opulent locality"—a stark contrast to Xiyouji. As far as the frame story is

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"9

concerned, Honglou meng might as well be called the "Journey to the East." Indeed, both Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu originate in the West and travel to the East. Nevertheless, the transcendental dimension is still there: Outside the Changmen Gate is a wide thoroughfare called Worldly Way; and somewhere off Worldly Way is an area called Carnal Lane. There is an old temple in the Carnal Lane area which, because of the way it is bottled up inside a narrow cul-de-sac, is referred to locally as Botde-gourd Temple. Next door to Botde-gourd Temple lived a gendeman of private means called Zhen Shiyin. (HLM 1.7; SS 1:52) T h e Worldly Way and Carnal Lane, sitting in the midst of prosperity and fashion, lead to a dead end; the only way out is via the solitary temple and what it stands for. It is certainly not for nothing that chapter 17, in which Baoyu, his father, and other members of the two houses inspect the Prospect Garden, concludes with the introduction of the Buddhist nun Miaoyu (Adamantina), and chapter 18 ends virtually with Yuanchun visiting a Buddhist temple and writing the inscription " T h e Ship of Mercy on the Sea of Suffering." 23 Despite its splendor, the world below is a world of imperfection (quexian shijiej.24 It is accentuated by the layout of this world in the Chinese cosmos and mythology, the rift in the firmament, which is unmendable, and the mistake in calculation on the part of the goddess. As we have shown, the Buddhist mahasattva warns the Stone, "There actually are some happy affairs in the Red Dust, it's just that one cannot depend on them f o r e v e r . . . . In the twinkling of an eye, sorrow is born of utter happiness, men are no more, and things change" (HLM 1.2-3; Miller, Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 38). T h e dichotomy of the artistic worlds in these novels is highlighted further by their different settings. Xiyouji is set on the road; Honglou meng is set among an aristocratic family, or in the family garden that has been readied for an imperial occasion. T h e Qing masterpiece has brought this notion of a "journey into desire"— as adumbrated in Xiyou bu, in contrast to Xiyouji—to

its culmination. As was

seen in Chapter 2, the family setting can be regarded as a segmented journey. This is indeed true in Honglou meng, where characters gather as a result of karmic predestination and interact before dispersing to embark again on their separate life journeys. Some of them achieve enlightenment in the process, as they are exposed to the full spectrum ofhuman desire. As the Taoist says of these characters, "Well, well, so another lot of these amorous wretches is about to enter the vale of

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tears" (HLM 1.7-8; SS 1:52). Having already achieved enlightenment, he knows exactly what awaits them. The commentator writes, however, that "to participate in the great illusion that is life (zaojie lishi) is klesa (kunao), afflicted by emotional entanglements and sufferings; but one cannot choose not to participate in the great illusion that is life. How sad!" (ZYZ 1.17). These words encapsulate the theme and structure of this novel.25 This significant remark sharply contrasts with the position of Wang Guowei (1877-1927), generally regarded as the first modern critic in the study of the Qing masterpiece, whose study still ranks as the most profound among the metaphysical approaches. However, the scholar has overlooked the role played by the Stone's experiences on the earth in his salvation. Wang concludes that it is a mistake for the Stone to harbor desire and that it is a graver mistake yet to come down to earth. In his words: This uncouth thing is unfortunate to be one of the stones to mend the heavens, but it is fortunate enough not to be used. Then why not roam in the field of Broad-and-Boundless (guangmo zhiye), in Not-Even-Anything Village (Wuheyou zhi xiang), and do whatever it feels content with, instead of entering this world of hardship and suffering? W e cannot say that this is not a grave mistake on the part of the Stone. 26 (HLMJ

1:250)

This passage echoes Zhuangzi in concept, imagery, and symbolism. Here the critic Wang Guowei thinks that the Stone's uselessness is an asset to be celebrated, rather than a cause for regret. Why should he assume a definite form and hence an identity? One's freedom depends upon one's uselessness, for one who is useless encounters no harm. However, Cao Xueqin, the author of Honglou meng, clearly suggests otherwise. In Zhuangzi (chap. 1), in the dialogue between Huizi and Zhuangzi, the former is distressed because he has a tree that is too gnarled and ugly to be useful. The senior philosopher thinks otherwise: Now you have this big tree and you're distressed because it's useless. Why don't you in Not-Even-Anything Village, or the field of Broad-and-Boundless, relax and do nothing by its side, or lie down for a free and easy sleep under it? Axes will never shorten its life, nothing can ever harm it. If there's no use for it, how can it come to grief or pain? 27

According to Wang Guowei, life is nothing but desire, which causes infinite suffering, and this is represented by the Stone, which harbors desire and is turned

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into a piece ofjade. Life, desire, and suffering are of a piece. Life, with its accompanying suffering, should have been avoided in the first place. Honglou

meng,

however, takes the opposite stance. In an ironic way, the thoughts of Daiyu's maid Zijuan (Nightingale) may be read as a comment on this comment. In chapter 113, Daiyu is already dead, and Baoyu is terribly distraught. Zijuan blames Baoyu for her mistress' death, a result of a broken heart over Baoyu's engagement and marriage to her rival, Baochai. However, witnessing Baoyu's suffering and hearing his confession have changed her mind. She thinks to herself: It seems plain that the family conspired together and tricked him into the wedding at a time when he was too ill to understand. Then afterwards, when he knew what he had done, he suffered one of his attacks and that's why he hasn't been able to stop weeping and moping ever since. He's obviously not the heardess, wicked person I took him for. Why, today his devotion was so touching, I felt really sorry for him. What a dreadful pity it is that our Miss Lin never had the fortune to be his bride! Such unions are clearly determined by fate. Until fate reveals itself, men continue to indulge in blind passion and fond imaginings; then, when the die is cast and the truth is known, the fools may remain impervious, but the ones who care deeply, the men of true sentiment, can only weep bitterly at the futility of their romantic attachments, at the tragedy of their earthly plight. She is dead and knows nothing; but he still lives, and there is no end to his suffering and torment. Better by far the destiny of plant or stone, bereft of knowledge and conscience, but blessed at least with purity and peace of mind! (HLM 113.1559; SS 5:255)

Even the hero of the novel, Jia Baoyu, frustrated with life as a human, vows "never, never to be reborn as a human being (tuosheng weiren)"

(HLM36.493;

SS 2:206). T h e irony, however, is that Daiyu used to be a plant—Crimson Pearl Flower—and our narrator used to be a Stone; such existence has to be transcended, it seems, and such innocence must be superseded. Moreover, even a plant or a stone has feelings, 28 so they must fall—to participate in samsara, in the world of life and death—in order to transcend all attachments. T r u e , the world below is a vale of tears, to use the expression in Hawkes' apt adaptation, but there is no other way to be human, no other way to attain enlightenment. Wang Guowei's gloss oiyu (jade)—the pendant that accompanies Baoyu at birth—as yu (desire) opens the way for a metaphysical interpretation of this novel, but he has neglected the other side of the coin. Indeed, this complicated novel is rich in

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two-sided things. The experiences in samsara of the principal characters are the focus of this novel; for many of them such experiences are redemptive. It is significant Ûaijia is the name of the family entered by the Luminescent Stone. It resonates on many levels, suggesting jia, the realm of the phenomenal, the provisional, and the conventional. The protagonist enters such a world, hence his rujia. Jia also suggestsji'ajie, a means by which something is achieved or expressed, in this case a means by which enlightenment is obtained. Thus, just as the stone monkey in Xiyouji represents the concrete working of the Tao, so too does the protagonist of the Qing masterpiece, Jia Baoyu, and so too does the Stone, who is to become the narrator of the novel. They both achieve enlightenment in their "little trip" down to the human realm (renjian), the finite, impermanent, imperfect, and ultimately illusory world.

D E S I R E (QING)

AND D H A R M A

(FA)

That experiences in qing can lead one to enlightenment is a paradigm about which Cao Xueqin is not too equivocal, given his manipulation of the mythic frame.29 The commentator Zhiyanzhai, for his part, also stresses this on many occasions. Consider the following decidedly Buddhist wordings: T h e author has made a boundless vow: to portray a real man of feeling (qingzhong), whose complete enlightenment illuminates the three thousand-worlds /trichiliocosm].

T h u s he draws this illustration of great compassion, with his

tears as ink and his blood as words. (ZYZ 57.625) T h e author has a great mind of bodhi (bodhicitta), and with his writings reveals his Dharmakaya and expounds the Dharma (xianshen shuofa). He offers admonitions to his readers by what is conveyed beyond the words—once, twice, many times. What a dereliction on their part if they merely regard this book as a work of fiction or chantefable. (ZYZ 22.426)

These remarks emphasize the nature of the book as a work of religious significance—the author is like a bodhisattva, and the book itself a product of great compassion, further evidenced by expressions and suggestions likeyi qing shuo fa, to preach the Dharma by means of desire (for example, ZYZ 35.542). However, apart from Wang Guowei's analysis, there are not many critical works that deal with the protagonist's journey toward enlightenment, a surprising fact,

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given Zhiyanzhai's—as well as the others'—repeated appraisals of the novel in such terms.30 Are such comments offered in earnest, then? For as Plaks points out, on many occasions the commentator Zhiyanzhai seems playful and ironic.31 This can be partly explained by the jocular personae the commentators often assume; for example, Zhiyanzhai can be self-consciously playful when he should have been serious. Nevertheless, his comments and those of others are balanced and well founded. Here I will probe the relationship between desire and Dharma as manifested in the protagonist Jia Baoyu, to show how an immersion in desire and passion leads to their transcendence. Our protagonist is born into the wealthy Jia family in the human world, one that holds hereditary tides and positions; furthermore, his sister Yuanchun eventually becomes an imperial consort. He is doted upon by his grandmother, who protects him from his demanding father, who insists that he study for civil service examinations and assume familial responsibilities, which Baoyu considers to be an unwanted encroachment of the adult world.32 Baoyu prefers the company of his female cousins and his maids to that ofhis father, his uncles, his male cousins, and their world and occupations. He spends almost all ofhis time in female company, in the inner quarter of the huge family compound—a life many literati might have coveted in late imperial China, a time of disenchantment with the dire political and social reality and of valorization of individualistic, artistic ideals. Baoyu prefers the company of unmarried girls; the pending marriage of a girl signals disaster, the disintegration of his world. In his own words, "Girls are made of water and boys are made of mud. When I am with girls I feel fresh and clean, but when I am with boys I feel stupid and nasty" (HLM 2.28-29; SS 1:76). He grows up among girls; it was his elder sister who taught him how to read. The author further explains: A s a result of this upbringing, he had come to the conclusion that the pure essence of humanity was all concentrated in the female of the species and that males were its mere dregs and ofF-scorings. T o him, therefore, all members of his own sex without distinction were brutes w h o might just as well not have existed. 3 ' (HLM

2 0 . 2 8 3 ; SS 1 : 4 0 7 - 4 0 8 )

He is even thoroughly content to serve his maids. Early in the novel, an occasion arises that legitimizes Baoyu's preference for the company of girls. His elder sister Yuanchun, by now an imperial consort, is to visit, for which occasion the family builds an elaborate garden. After the visit,

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Yuanchun decrees that the garden be occupied by her sisters and cousins currendy living in the family compound. Baoyu, according to the decree, is to join them in the garden. Thus, he is given social validation to live life as he pleases. His mingling with the girls, however, does not result from any carnal lust on his part; his spiritual or platonic love for them is desexualized or sublimated,34 the consummation of the valorization of qing since the late Ming. Apart from his maid Xiren (Aroma) and, toward the end of the novel, Baochai, who becomes his wedded wife, he does not seem to have sexual relationships with women.35 This is attested to by the most lustful woman in the novel, who suspects Baoyu of having a relationship with Qingwen (Skybright). But after eavesdropping on his visit to the latter, who happens to be her sister-in-law, and after attempting to seduce him in vain, she is convinced of his innocence and chastity. The goddess Disenchantment characterizes his peculiarity as "lust of the mind" (yiyin). Indeed, most people find him difficult to fathom. His grandmother, for one, has always satisfied his every whim, yet says of him: He's a strange boy. I don't really understand him. I've certainly never known another one like him. His other kinds of naughtiness I can understand; it's this passion for spending all his time with maids that I find so hard to make out. It used at one time to worry me: I thought it must be because he had reached puberty and was having experiences with them; but after watching him carefully, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't that at all. It's very, very strange. Perhaps he was a maid himself in some past life. Perhaps he ought to have been a girl. (HLM 78.1116; ^ 3 : 5 5 6 )

This kind of life seems to promise nothing but felicity, at least initially. Consider this description of his life in the garden: Life for Baoyu after his removal into the garden became utterly and completely satisfying. Every day was spent in the company of his maids and cousins in the most amiable and delightful occupation, such as reading, practising calligraphy, strumming on the qin, playing Go, painting, composing verses, embroidering in coloured silks,

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competitive flower-collecting, making flower-sprays, singing, word games and guess-fingers. In a word, he was blissfully happy. {HLM 23.322; SS 1:460) Baochai, one of Baoyu's cousins, styles him Fugui xianren, or " L u c k y Lounger" {HLM 37.502; SS 2:218): " Y o u are a very lucky person, living in such luxurious and beautiful surroundings and you enjoy an exceptional amount of leisure—in fact, I can't think of anyone who combines so much luck with quite so much leisure." T h e commentator Zhiyanzhai writes that Baoyu lives in consummate bliss, with nothing lacking and nothing more to be hoped for. Yet he is not aware of it himself. T h i s can be seen in his self-indulgence after moving into the garden—for instance, his composition of a suite of poems on seasonal enjoyments in chapter 23. Even the Stone is somewhat elated. W h e n witnessing the imperial concubine's visit, the Stone feels extremely fortunate that he has been brought down to this world, for how else could it have been possible for him to witness all the splendors of an imperial occasion {HLM 17-18.245)? 36 However, if the novel seems to be an extended bout of merrymaking, it is nonetheless always interrupted by unwelcome events, and one merrymaker after another drops off. T h e party resumes but is interrupted again, until all the participants are affected and the celebration degenerates into mourning. Clearly, happiness does not last. Moreover, discontent and unhappiness arise from within. Ennui seems to come from nowhere. Immediately following Baoyu's relocation into the garden and his composition of a suite of poems celebrating his leisurely life, things change. Then, quite suddenly, in the midst of this placid, agreeable existence, he was discontented. He got up one day feeling out of sorts. Nothing he did brought any relief. Whether he stayed indoors or went out into the garden, he remained bored and miserable. The garden's female population were mostly still in the age of innocence when freedom from inhibition is the fruit of ignorance. Waking and sleeping they surround him, and their mindless giggling was constantly in his ears. How could they understand the resdess feelings that now consumed him? In his present mood of discontent he was bored with the garden and its inmates; yet his attempts to find distraction outside it ended in the same emptiness and ennui. {HLM 23.324; SS 1:462)

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His malaise is all the more tragic because the root of discontent lies in the human condition and human nature. Of course other characters of this book do not understand him. Not many Chinese novels manage to give expression to this tragic sense of life. In that world, things always go amiss, however promising they may appear at first. Consider his obsessive relationship with Daiyu, apart from which nothing really matters to him. Even in his most lyrical moments with his cousin, something goes awry. They quarrel and end up in tears. Such squabbles punctuate their relationship in thefirstquarter of the novel. Moreover, once they seem to have understood themselves completely, other factors stand in the way of their marriage. Just as a song in the Honglou meng suite prophesies: O n e was a flower from paradise, O n e a pure j a d e without spot or stain. If each for the other one was not intended, T h e n w h y in this life did they meet again? A n d yet if fate had meant them for each other, W h y w a s their earthly meeting all in vain? In vain were all her sighs and tears, In vain were all his anxious fears: All, insubstantial, doomed to pass, A s moonlight mirrored in the water O r flowers reflected in a glass. (HLM

5 . 8 5 ; SS 1 : 1 4 0 )

Things always turn against their will. Baoyu loves Daiyu but finally marries Baochai. Yet this is not Baoyu's fault, nor Baochai's either. As another prophecy puts it concerning Baoyu's eventual marriage to Baochai and his obsession with Daiyu: L e t others all C o m m e n d the marriage rites of gold and j a d e [Baoyu and Baochai]; I still recall T h e b o n d of old b y stone and flower made [ B a o y u and D a i y u ] ; A n d while vacant eyes behold Crystalline snows of beauty pure and cold [Baochai], F r o m m y mind can not be banished T h a t fairy w o o d forlorn that from the world has vanished [Daiyu]. H o w true I find T h a t every g o o d some imperfection holds! E v e n a wife so courteous and so kind N o comfort brings to m y afflicted mind. (HLM

5 . 8 4 - 8 5 ; SS 1 : 1 4 0 )

The "Red Chamber" Just as the Buddhist mahdsattva

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had warned the Stone at the outset of the story,

this is all because the human world is imperfect; things inevitably go wrong, especially in love, where regret over unfulfilled desire is the order of the day. Time, too, figures in this tragic sense of life. One inevitably grows and changes, which Baoyu resents and resists.37 But time goes on, independent of one's will. Moreover, time ravages human beings and what they have built. Toward the end of the novel, the family garden lies in waste, and the garden community breaks up. Baoyu is greatly disturbed to learn of the impending marriage of his half-sister Tanchun, for by now he has experienced many deaths and partings of those most dear to him. He cries: T h i s is the final blow! One by one all my sisters and cousins have been taken away from me! Cousin Lin has joined the ranks of fairies; my elder sister has died—though it's true that even in her lifetime w e had little enough chance to be together; Ying[chun] is coupled with that brute; now T a n f c h u n ] is being sent to the ends of the earth to be married, and I shall never set eyes on her again! A s for Xiangyun, w h o knows where she will end u p ? Baoqin is engaged to be married and won't be with us much longer. Will no one be spared? A m I to be left here all on my o w n ? ( H L M 1 0 0 . 1 4 0 8 ; SS 5 : 4 4 - 4 5 )

The passage of time and one's growth inevitably lead to death, but it is not his own that Baoyu fears. What he cannot bear is parting with his sisters, female cousins, and maids. In one of the most memorable episodes of the novel, the passing of spring reminds the female protagonist Lin Daiyu of the mutability of this world and her own mortality. She composes a long poem, an intimation of her own tragic, short life. She recites the piece while burying the fallen petals, a scene observed by Baoyu: Unknown to her, Baoyu was listening to this recitation from the slope of the near-by rockery. A t first he merely nodded and sighed sympathetically; but when he heard the words C a n I, that these flowers' obsequies attend, Divine how soon or late my life will end? and, a little later, One day when spring has gone and youth fled, T h e Maiden and the flowers will both be dead

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he flung himself on the ground in a fit of weeping, scattering the earth all about him with the flowers he had been carrying in the skirt of his gown. Lin Daiyu dead! A world from which that delicate, flower-like countenance had irrevocably departed! It was unutterable anguish to think of it. Yet his sensitized imagination did now consider it—went on, indeed, to consider a world from which the others, too—Baochai, Caltrop, Aroma and the r e s t had also irrevocably departed. Where would he be then? What would have become of him? And what of the Garden, the rocks, the flowers, the trees? T o whom would they belong when he and the girls were no longer there to enjoy them? Passing from loss to loss in his imagination, he plunged deeper and deeper into a grief that seemed inconsolable. (HLM 28.385; SS 2:41-42)

For the last sentence, the literal sense of the original Chinese is that he does not know how to escape from this; he considers leaving this human world and renouncing all consciousness (HLM28.385). Better to be an insentient object than to be subjected to such ravaging human emotions. In short, a tragic sense oflife is profound indeed: Daiyu only bemoans her own fate, but Baoyu's vision is far wider.38 In the course of the story, he experiences all this, including the death of Daiyu and the decay of the family garden. His reaction to Daiyu's death has an added poignancy when we compare it, as we should, with this episode. Now the unbearable and the inconsolable befall him. When he hears about Daiyu's death, he swoons, dreaming about a visit to the underworld in an attempt to find her, but the commotion his trauma has caused in the family wakes him up.

In his confusion he suddenly heard a voice, and turning, saw the figures of Grandmother Jia, Lady Wang, Baochai, Aroma and his other maids standing in a circle around him, weeping and calling his name. He was lying on his own bed. T h e red lamp was on the table. T h e moon was shining brilliandy through the window. He was back among the elegant comforts ofhis own home. A moment's reflection told him that what he had just experienced had been a dream. He was in a cold sweat. Though his mind felt strangely lucid, thinking only intensified his feeling of helpless desolation, and he uttered several profound sighs. (HLM 98.1381-1382; SS 4:373)

The Chinese more powerfully conveys his helplessness and forlornness; the sighs he heaves are all he can do to respond to the untimely, tragic death of Daiyu, the girl he loves, understands, and identifies with. He no longer has the will to live, but he can do nothing else: those surrounding him—his grandmother,

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mother, wife, concubine, and maids—are reminders of his social obligations. Daiyu is gone, but he is still in the world of "elegant comfort." "The red lamp was on the table. The moon was shining brilliantly through the window." Though this world no longer has any meaning for him, his sense of social duty overrides his suicidal instincts. Powerless and helpless is he in face oflife's tragedies.i9 Another case in point is Baoyu's response to the death of Qin Zhong, Qin Keqing's brother, with whom he has, it is insinuated, a homosexual relationship. "He continued in daily grief for him for a very long while afterward. But nothing can be done" (HLM 17-18.224; English modeled after Hawkes). This does not escape the notice of Zhiyanzhai, who writes, "Always such words conclude narration of such events: this is the book's organizing principle; this is also its main theme" (ZYZ 17.291). Precisely this helplessness leads him to enlightenment, to renounce his illusory pursuits in this world, because there is no longer a way ahead. As a couplet on the gate of a Buddhist temple puts it, "When there is no road ahead, think of turning back (yanqian wulu xiang huitouf (HLM 2.25; SS 1:71, text modified): "turning back" in Buddhism is synonymous with enlightenment. Baoyu is capable of seeing the human condition in his life or vice versa. He attempts on one occasion to make sense of the tragic events happening around him. "As he pursued this train of thought to its logical conclusion, a line from Zhuangzi came into his mind: 'This life, this insubstantial tissue of vanity, floats like a cloud on the wind!' With this he burst into tears" (HLM 113.1556; SS 5:251). These instances may remind us of Monkey's response to the issue of mortality in chapter 1 of Xiyouji. Only Baoyu himself is fully aware of the tragedy in life, however; most of his kin are too preoccupied with their petty concerns. Below the veneer of prosperity he senses death and decay,40 because he is endowed with a sensibility rare among human beings, given his karmic origin and his propensity for empathy. But few understand his feelings. His father Jia Zheng once rebukes him: "And look at you now—sullenness and secret depravity written all over your face! What are these sighings and groanings supposed to indicate? What have you got to be discontented or displeased about?" (HLM 33.452; SS 2:142). Jia Zheng certainly does not understand his son and his tragic sense of life, for, as he sees it, his son possesses everything a young man could possibly dream of. All this harks back to the Buddhist mahasattva's unheeded warnings to the Stone, the narrator of this story: happiness is invariably followed by discontent or affliction. Moreover, this unhappiness is not the result of one's faults or flaws. Rather, it is embedded in the very nature of this world. Unhappiness ensues

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because this world itself is imperfect, one in which regrets abound and felicity is dogged by discontent. 41 This is manifested most poignantly in love. From the Buddhist perspective, Baoyu's life is characterized by attachment, chi (mùdha or moka) or folly, stupidity. This is one of the three bonds (bandha)— "klesa-afflictions, the passions, and so on, that bind men" 42 —the other two being greed or avarice (tan; lobha or abhidhyà) and resentment or anger (chen; pratigha or dvesa). We can say that in Xiyouji Zhu Bajie's life is largely characterized by greed and Sun Wukong's by resentment. T h e y are all a result of ignorance and illusion (wuming; avidya). Baoyu's life in the garden is thus regarded as living in this state. Within this frame of reference, the only salvation is to break away from the gravity of desire. Viewed in this way, Baoyu's emotional attachments are entanglements, and the female characters, with whom he longs to spend all his time, are impediments: in a way, they are demons as in Xiyouji and Xiyou bu. Indeed, on one occasion Baoyu categorizes them as forms of mdra, which in Buddhism has more to do with delusion than anything else. "These Baochais, Daiyus, Aromas and Musks," writes he, "spread their nets and dig their pits, and all the world are bewitched and ensnared by them" ( H L M 21.293; SS 1:421). His mood at the time is lighthearted, so he does not fully comprehend the import of what he has written. Keep in mind the Buddhist concept of mo (demon, mdra) and evil (papa), and the fact that in Chinese mo and zhang (impediment, obstacle) are often paired. As Boyd puts it, the Buddhist term "papa "etymologically means, most probably, "that which is essentially miserable, full of suffering, and inferior. All conditions of samsàra which are subject to or cause death . . . are of the nature ofpapa, i.e., constitute an inferior, lowly, essentially miserable form of existence. T h e attractive life which the Mara deva . . . extols is judged by the Buddhist as inferior and fundamentally full of suffering (papa) because it is impermanent and can be equated with death (mdra) in all its aspects." 43 In other words, The Buddhist.. .judges the human condition itself as a "violation" of absolute freedom (nirvana), and therefore seeks to break through the ordinary conditions of human existence which are identifiable with suffering and death. ... [P]apa has to do with that mysterious, attractive binding power inherent in ordinary existence itself. Characteristically, the experiences of papa are: being naturally inclined toward sense desires, bound to the snares and fetters of samsaric existence, and continually interrupted and confused in effort to release oneself from a state of being which is imperfect, impermanent and full of suffering.44

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T o w a r d the end of the novel, the Buddhist mahasattva tells Baoyu, "[P]redestined attachments of the human heart are all of them mere illusion, they are obstacles blocking our spiritual path" ( H L M 116.1587; SS 5:293), although this view is to be modified, even subverted, on another level. Chapter 19 records Baoyu's various entanglements with female characters from different social strata. First, amid the family celebrations, he leaves the scene of the festivities to pay a visit to a portrait of a girl lest she feel lonely. He suddenly discovers his page Tealeaf making love to a maid. Finding his page unaware even of the girl's age, Baoyu rebukes him for his frivolousness. T h e n he pays a visit to the home of Xiren (Aroma), his attending maid. Finally he spends some time with Daiyu. T h e commentator clearly regards all of these female characters as forms of mara, which entice men, for he writes:

In order to know something about Baoyu's true feelings one should pay attention to this chapter.... It portrays a person of superior intelligence and understanding who is bewitched by Mara and refuses to be enlightened: he sinks willingly. Moreover, it also shows the magic powers of these maras: they are nothing ordinary; thus there seems to be no hope [for Baoyu] to reach the other shore. We, the ordinary human beings, should close the book and think about it; this might be somewhat beneficial to us, physically and spiritually. ( z r z 19.369)

Such words can be better understood in the context of the two Ming novels we have already discussed. However, in Honglou meng, female characters are more than forms of mara; they are also agents that facilitate Baoyu's enlightenment and liberation, a sharp contrast to the Buddhist concept of evil and mara, as discussed by Boyd. Here, words of love and passion, including words of love from literary works, are considered to pertain to the Buddhist Dharma: " H o w sad it is to preach to Stone about T a o with words that touch upon the heart zhiyan,yu

Shitou jiangdao)"

(yizhuangxin

(ZYZ 23.435). Here, the reference to the Stone is

ambiguous. O n the one hand, Daiyu's words of passion are to be Dharma for Baoyu; on the other hand, the words of love as spoken by the pair preach Dharma to the Stone. In the end, these words sharpen Baoyu's and the Stone's understanding about life and the limitations of humanity, although they do not always understand the full significance of these utterings. In other word, speakers often say something whose significance they cannot comprehend themselves. Consider what Daiyu says to Baoyu when he finds no escape from his sufferings:

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"What's the point in my being alive? The world would be an altogether better place without this thing called 'me.'" "Can't you see?" said Daiyu. "It's the illusion of'me' that creates the illusion of'others,' and a life lived under these twin illusions is bound to be beset with frustrations, fears, confusion, foolish dreams and a host of other obstacles and entanglements." (HLM 99.1299; SS 4:240) T h e s e words sound as if they come straight out of Buddhist scriptures. Moreover, the representative female characters are well versed in Buddhist lore and learning; they often broach topics that lead to Buddhist, sometimes Taoist, discourses. Even Baochai, whose animosity to religion is no secret, surpasses Baoyu in her understanding of Buddhism initially. Residing in the garden is the Buddhist nun Miaoyu (Adamantina), and in the course of the story other female charactersjoin the Buddhist fold, including Baoyu's cousin Xichun and Daiyu's maid Zijuan (Nightingale). T h e y — a n d others—in a way prepare Baoyu intellectually as well as emotionally for his final renunciation. Not only does Baoyu experience the world, but he also observes what happens to the female characters and learns from it. In his opinion, these females far surpass the males, and it is their fate that concerns him. From the imperial concubine, to his other sisters, to his female cousins, to the maids—all derive their meaning in their relationship to him and meanwhile to the Stone. "Throughout the book all cases of love," assumes the commentator, "are registered with Brother Stone (tongbu qing'an, jie biyi Shixiong guahao), although each has its own features and all of them are juxtaposed to each other in a magic way" (ZYZ 46.595). Here I regard Brother Stone (Shixiong) as a composite of Baoyu and the Stone. According to Zhiyanzhai, Baoyu, the only male character residing in the garden, is the supreme specimen, a paragon, of these beauties—he reigns over them (zhu yan zhi guan).45 In another manuscript version, he is the thread that links all of them together, like the thread that strings the beads or traditional Chinese coins {zhu yan zhi guan; ZYZ 17.291). This is why, according to the commentator, Baoyu names the places in the garden, and his residence is the most important place there: its center. 46 This is also why he is always present when something happens to one of the girls, and why he usually does not believe the general, sad truths about humanity until and unless he has witnessed the girls actually experiencing them

(ZYZ77.680).

As merrymaking is punctuated by disruptions, so Baoyu's encounters with female characters are followed by reflections, often of a Buddhist nature, including

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gatha writing and k5an-like talking, often as a result of his frustrations. This testifies to the author's seriousness in invoking the Buddhist soteriological model. Amid the breathtaking development of the plot, Baoyu gradually and with great effort extricates himself from his surroundings. Overflowing with feelings, desires, passions, and a propensity for attachment, he is ready to expurgate them and finally become a monk. This is woven into the plot and structure of the book; it is not merely a frame to bind the ever-expanding episodes together. Despite all this, however, Baoyu's "progress," it seems, does not proceed in a linear trajectory. This does not preclude the interpretation we are making. Baoyu's situation bears a close affinity with the Ming novel Xiyouji and the sutra Huayanjing,

as discussed in Chapter 3: even the pilgrimages are not unilinear.

T h e protagonists may repeat certain actions and pass through identical landscapes, but we cannot deny the teleology. We can also say this of Baoyu: it is true that he alternates between an immersion in samsara and enlightenment, but these experiences help him make the leap. Moreover, samsara itself is nirvana, one of the characteristics of this subgenre of fiction. What is of primary importance in the novel, again, is not knowledge or wisdom in its objective aspects. Indeed, both Baoyu and Daiyu possess the knowledge they garnered from their exposure to Taoist and Buddhist teachings. Rather, what matters in this novel is a subjective, existential experience of this knowledge or wisdom. I conclude this part with a comment on the Yijing (Book of changes) by the Buddhist monk Zhixu Ouyi (1599-1655). He writes, concerning the line " T h e great observed on high, harmonious, shows the world balance and rectitude," in the chapter of Guan (Observing): In Buddhist terms, "the great observed" refers to the subtle observation of the absolute; "on high" refers to transcendence of all unenlightened states of mind. "Harmonious" means not deviating from essential nature, and being omnipresent in all phenomena. "Balance" means not falling into either extreme of samsara or nirvana; "rectitude" means simultaneous awareness of the ultimate truth and the conventional truth, without missing anything.47 T h e Jia family garden, the setting of the most important events of the novel, is appropriately called Daguan yuan (Hawkes: Prospect Garden). Among all the connotations this term is likely to evoke, the Buddhist interpretation is extremely appealing. 48 Thus, the garden may be regarded as sacred ground, or the wilderness, as in Xiyouji,

where the characters go through trials and ordeals and are

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tempered and find salvation. It is a place where the great guan

5

(vipasyana)—

observing or contemplating, the result of which is the Bildung of the characterstakes place. 49 By the same token, and in regard to the novel's prevalent dream metaphor, the garden is both the locus where the characters dream their profound dream, which is life, and the locus where some of them wake up. T h e dream, therefore, is both the illusion and a means to destroy it. As the critic Erzhi daoren discusses in "Honglou meng shuo meng" (On the dream in Dream of the Red Chamber, 1812): "Daguan yuan is none other than the hollow inside of the pillow of Immortal Lii [Dongbin, who is the deliverer of the protagonist in the Ming drama

Handanji].

For nineteen years Baoyu finds himself in it, doing whatever is his intention and enjoying the utmost pleasure, until finally all this comes to an end and he pushes aside his pillow to rise, making his way to where he has originally come from" {HLMJ 1:92).50 Erzhi daoren also suggests that the Stone, rejected by the goddess Niiwa for its coarseness, is further tempered there ( H L M J 1:89).

" M I R R O R IN T H E

TEXT"

Glasses spy on us. If between the four walls of my bedroom there is a mirror, I am no longer alone. There is another one. There is the reflection which creates a silent theater at dawn. (Borges, " T h e Mirror") 51

Honglou meng is essentially a Bildungsroman in which the protagonists embark on a pilgrimage, a cosmic grand tour—or "a little trip" in the Buddhist mahasattva's understatement—of learning and development. Thus, the emphasis is not on the events themselves but on their meaning in the minds of the protagonists. This amounts to a study of the Buddhist psychology, because, as we have repeatedly highlighted, the soteriological model in Buddhism is an epistemological, even psychological, one. T h e centrality of Buddhist salvation lies in enlightenment, and therefore the world surrounding the protagonists derives its meaning solely in reference to this. I regard Honglou meng as another manifestation of what I call the fiction of enlightenment not only because of its decidedly Buddhist tenor—that is, the paradoxical enlightenment by way of involvement, or detachment by way of attachment—but also because of the narrative techniques, mainly the doubling and

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mirroring devices, which correspond and contribute to the novel's concern with the characters' psychological growth. T h e novel is about the self, which to Buddhists means the mind: the mind in its relationship with others and the mind turning in against itself. In short, it is about reflection and reflexivity .52 In other words, the daguan (great observing or contemplation), which is embodied in the name of the garden as we discussed above, is brought about by these devices and techniques. There is desire, passion, love—attachment, headlong immersion in the flux of life and death, or folly in Buddhist terms; at the same time there is a reflection upon all this, which leads to liberation. T h e structure of the novel is therefore one of reflection, with Baoyu and the Stone as the center ofintelligence and cognition. O n many occasions, "the narrative dwells on the discerning gaze of Baoyu's roving eyes," writes Anthony Yu. 5 3 As has already been discussed, all cases oflove in this novel are "registered" with Baoyu and the Stone and work on their mind, a process that is highlighted by a series of mirroring and doubling devices. I use the term "mirror in the text" both literally and metaphorically: literally, because the images of mirror abound in the novel and constitute its central cluster of images; metaphorically, because the symbolism of the mirror is so important in Buddhism and therefore essential to this novel. Yet this is only a conventional division, for the two aspects are intricately related,54 and their potentialities are myriad, as the following examples attest. Baoyu can be seen as the mirror of the female characters. At the same time, the Stone may be regarded as Baoyu's mirror; it is he, after all, who records and analyzes what is happening around Baoyu. T h e novel itself may be construed as a record of how the Stone, in the form of ajade pendant, polishes itself to become a mirror. 55 In the end, the Stone does become a mirror, at least metaphorically: "Brother Stone's experience of life sharpened the edge of his spiritual perception, andbroughthim to a more complete awareness of the T a o " (HLM 120.1646; SS 5:374). T h e English translation does not quite capture the point, but the Chinese mochu guangming

(being polished until it begins to shine, to radiate, to

reflect) clearly points in this direction: the opaque stone has been ground and polished to such an extent that it has become a reflecting mirror. It has undergone a transformation that is the raison d'être of the novel. Xiuchengyuanjue

denotes

attainment of complete and perfect enlightenment. So the novel itself may be regarded as a mirror, as indeed one of its five titles, Fengyue baojian (Anthony C. Yu: A bejeweled mirror of romance), amply suggests. At the same time, many specific locales and episodes in the novel can be regarded as mirrors: for example,

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the Land of Illusion and the Prospect Garden, each being the other's mirror, or mirror site. W e can broaden the scope to include scenes that constitute internal duplications and have self-reflexive and metafictional dimensions, those that refer to the composition, reading, and interpretation of the novel itself: the mise en abyme structures, like the scenes concerning prophecy, remembrance, recognition, dream, and repetition. Indeed, critics have called such internal duplications "mirrors in the text." 56 By "mise en abyme" I mean the devices and structures of work-within-work, text-within-text, story-within-story—techniques that relate to the self-reflexive elements in the novel. A s defined by Lucien Dallenbach, these are "texts containing one or more doublings which function as mirrors or microcosms of the text," 57 or, more precisely, "internal mirror[s] that reflect the whole of the narrative by simple, repeated or 'specious' (or paradoxical) duplication." 58 All of this is a result of reflection and reflexivity. 59 These "mirrors" are scattered throughout the text like stars, but when we read through the novel, w e may find that they constellate. Let us probe the images of the mirror further yet. Consider this passage about the room where Jia Baoyu is to fall asleep and visit the Land of Illusion in dream: On a table stood a precious mirror that had once graced the Hall of Mirrors of the empress Wu Zetian. Beside it stood the golden platter on which Flying Swallow once danced for her emperor's delight. And on the platter was that very quince which the villainous An Lushan threw at beautiful Yang Guifei, bruising her plump white breast. At the far end of the room stood the priceless bed on which Princess Shouyang was sleeping out of doors under the eaves of the Hanzhang Palace when the plum-flower lighted on her forehead and set a new fashion for coloured patches. Over it hung a canopy commissioned by Princess Tongchang entirely fashioned out of ropes of pearls. "I like it here," said Baoyu happily. "My room," said Qinshi with a proud smile, "is fit for an immortal to sleep in." (HLM 5.71-72 ; SS1:127, with modifications) Amid the objects with blatandy erotic connotations, there is a mirror. T h i s mirror, first of all, is one that adorned the Hall of Mirrors (the dressing room, or the retiring chamber) of Empress W u Zetian (r. 690-705), a lascivious figure who often appears in popular fiction; among the forbidden books, mainly novels and dramas, that Baoyu's page smuggles into the garden is one about her (chap. 23). Meanwhile, Empress W u is not merely a lascivious ruler; she is also extremely talented, with remarkable literary endowments. She commissioned the translations

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of many Buddhist sutras, among them the eighty-fascicle Huayan jing

by

Siksananda, about which she also penned a preface in imitation of Emperor Taizong's "Sanzang shengjiao x u " (Preface to the holy teachings of the Tripitaka). She was also a devout Buddhist. A t the same time, the Chinese term "baojing" (the precious mirror or the mirror as ratna), certainly has religious connotations. It was also an instrument to help the empress to a comprehension of Huayan's view of totality. T h e monk Fazang (643-712) built a Hall of Mirrors for his demonstration: He . . . led the Empress into a room lined with mirrors. On the ceiling and the floor, on all four walls, and even in the four corners of the room were fixed huge mirrors—all facing each other. Then Fazang produced an image of Buddha and placed it in the center of the room with a burning torch beside it. "Oh, how fantastic! How marvelous!" cried the Empress as she gazed at this awe-inspiring panorama of infinite interreflections/'"

Given the empress' personal lifestyle, encompassing both the religious and the mundane, the transcendental and the lascivious, it seems that the mirror, too, serves dual purposes. O n the one hand, it points to the erotic side of the empress; on the other, it underlines her religiosity. T h u s , the mirror symbolizes this dichotomy, the same as the mirror in the title, the Bejeweled Mirror of Romance, 6 1 with its two sides: one leading to sensual indulgence, the other to its transcendence. T h e mirror in Qinshi's room can also be seen as symbolizing reflection in the midst of an overwhelmingly erotic background. T h e r e is also the mirror associated with Baoyu's residence in the garden. T h i s mirror is highlighted in chapters 26, 41, and 56, where events important to the structure of the novel occur in its vicinity. As Plaks sees it, Baoyu's residence is "the hall of mirrors," which, the critic rightly suggests, recalls the hall of myriad mirrors in Xiyou bu.62 Everywhere he goes, it seems, Baoyu is virtually surrounded by mirrors. Besides the mirror in his room, he borrows one from Zijuan (Nightingale), Daiyu's attending maid: "I notice you've got several mirrors in your vanity box," said Baoyu. "Why don't you give me that little one with the pattern of caltrops on it as a keepsake? I can keep it by my pillow to use when I'm in bed, and it will be handy to take with me when I go out." Nightingale gave him the mirror.63 (HLM 57.806-7;

3:101)

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This mirror is mentioned again later (HLM 113.1556; SS 5:252). Baoyu composes this riddle in chapter 22: Southward you stare, He'll northward glare. Grieve, and he's sad. Laugh, and he's glad.64 (SS 1:449) The key, of course, is the mirror. The commentator thinks that it reflects Baoyu's experiences about "flower [reflected] in the mirror, the moon [reflected] in the water" (ZYZ 22.425). In short, the story is about passion, desire, love—attachment, headlong immersion in the flux of life and death, or folly. At the same time, it is also a reflection upon all of these that reverses the destructive course and leads to their conquest and transcendence. The mirror is the very symbol of this redemptive reflective and reflexive power. In this respect the protagonist Baoyu can be regarded as a "mirror," too. Moreover, the character Xiangling (Caltrop), whose name suggests mirror, can be regarded as a "mirror" in the text as well. Among the commentators, Zhang Xinzhi has emphasized the "mirroring" in the novel, in particular the case of Xiangling. At the end of the lyrical chapter 23, when Daiyu is engrossed in obsessive thoughts about her fate, intensified by her reading of Xixiangji (Western chamber) and listening to the arias of Mudan ting (Peony pavilion), a pat on her back brings her to reality. It is Xiangling, whom Zhang Xinzhi clearly regards as a redemptive mirror.65 And this is also true, to a lesser extent, of Sheyue (Musk), whose name suggests a moonlike mirror (yuejing).m

D O U B L I N G ( P A R T 1 ) : " O N E N E S S OF B A O C H A I AND D A I Y U " AND THE " B O O K OF R E F L E C T I O N S "

The doubling and mirroring devices constitute one of the novel's structuring principles. Critics have noted this issue,67 but they— with the exception of Angelina C. Yee and Haun Saussy—it seems, have concentrated on Jia Baoyu and Zhen Baoyu. 68 1 argue that doubling is more pervasive than is generally acknowledged, given the various Buddhist assumptions the author has worked with— philosophical, psychological, and typological.69 The novel has been appropriately called yingshu (book of reflections or shadows).70 Here, I will first consider such

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devices and structures as manifested most prominently in the characterization of Baochai and Daiyu. 71 But the doubling can be expanded to include the goddess Disenchantment and her sister. I will also consider the relationship between the Prospect Garden and the Land of Illusion—or rather, two complementary versions of the Land of Illusion. All this forms the protagonist Jia Baoyu's frame of reference. A s we have discussed, Jia Baoyu and the Stone serve as the center of intelligence in this novel, so all cases of love are registered with Baoyu and by extension with the Stone. While all the female characters derive their significance from their relationship with Baoyu, they also seem to be connected to one another, woven together in some huge tapestry. T h e y complement one another by association, extension, or contrast. W u Xiaonan observes that the reader often has the impression that a character invariably resembles another one, albeit in different degrees, as is most conspicuously seen in the complementarity and contrast between the two central female characters, Daiyu and Baochai. Ostensibly, each highlights the other by means of contrast, but it is a contrast with multiple dimensions: the two are balanced and symmetrical, and this determines the novel's structure. As Hsien-hao Liao points out, Daiyu represents youth, individual value, idiosyncrasy, and eccentricity, whereas Baochai represents growth, social value, the adult world, duty, and conformity, among other things. A n d there are many other unmarried female characters, who cluster around either Daiyu or Baochai. T h e most important dichotomy is that between Xiren (Aroma) and Qingwen (Skybright), the maids of Baoyu. 72 A s the story unfolds, Baochai takes an interest in Xiren—they think and talk alike—while the physical resemblance between Qingwen and Daiyu is frequently noted. Many other characters, for instance the maids of the major characters, are also so constructed andjuxtaposed. T h e following is a case in point. W h e n Yuanyang (Faithful) talks with Ping'er (Patience) about her dilemma, she recalls all those w h o have served the matriarch of the Jia house: When I think of our set—how many were we?—Aroma, Amber, Candida, Nightingale, Suncloud, Silver, Musk, Ebony, Kingfisher—she left to go with Miss Shi—Charmer and Golden—they both died—Snowpink that was dismissed—you and me—there must have been a dozen of us altogether. (HLM 46.636; SS 2:414)

T h e commentator writes,

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According to my calculation, these are also twelve girls: as a matter of fact, like the flower seen in the mirror, like the moon reflected in the water, the leopard among the clouds, the birds in the forest, the rats in the hole, who knows how many. N o one knows for certain, but there are traces to mark, there are tracks to follow: twisting and winding, they are like sounds from the distance, shadows nearby, mists that are intangible, appearing and disappearing, altogether utterly weird, dazzling the eyes and puzzling the mind—the way [bodhisattva Guanyin] plays with her thousand eyes and arms. (ZTZ 46.599)

Here the commentator points out that the maids reflect or are shadows of the twelve beauties (shi'er chai); they are also, in a sense, the secondary or tertiary shi'er chai (or the shi'er chai as manifested in the lower social stratum). We have here a hint at the similarity between the configuration of characters in this book and the bodhisattva's avatars: all derive from the same source, it is suggested. By the same token, these maids can be regarded as reflections of the same moon in different rivers or lakes, the images of the same flower glimpsed from different mirrors. However innumerable and intangible, they emanate from one principle, as expressed in the commentator's colorful wording. At the same time, the contrast and complementarity between Daiyu and Baochai are such that they cannot be considered separately. T h e y are emanations from the same source, even if they manifest contrasting aspects of that source. T h e commentator compares this pair to Zhen Baoyu and Jia Baoyu, arguing that each is the other's double or shadow (ZYZ22.408).

Moreover, the commentator

also suggests that, although Daiyu and Baochai are two persons with two names (mingsui liangge), they are in fact one entity, one person (ren queyishen), and that this is the author's device to create illusion {ZYZ 42.575). In short, they, as well as other female characters, can all be regarded as emanations of one person, one principle, one source. 73 T h e source of female characters in this novel can be traced to the Land of Illusion that Baoyu visits in a dream in chapter 5. In a series of highly charged scenes, densely symbolic and intensely prophetic, Baoyu is admonished for his propensity for lust, the variety of "lust of the mind," a sublime form of desire. 74 T h e goddess Disenchantment (Jinghuan xiangu) entertains him with fairy food, drink, and songs—the Honglou meng suite—hoping that the prophecies will deter him from his "unpractical and eccentric" pursuits. This fails. As a last resort, she gives her "younger sister" to him as a bride, with the intention of awakening him to the true nature of human attachment. "My motive in arranging this," the goddess tells him, "is to help you grasp the fact that, since even in

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these immortal precincts love is an illusion, the love of your dust-stained, mortal world must be doubly an illusion" (HLM 5.90; SS 1:146). Surprisingly, "[h]er rose-fresh beauty reminded him strongly of Baochai, but there was also something about her of Daiyu's delicate charm" (HLM 5.89-90; SS 1:145). Her name is, significantly, Jianmei, or Two-in-one—literally, one who combines the good characteristics of two or more characters. Hawkes, in an appendix to his translation of Honglou meng, considers Baochai and Daiyu as representing "two complementary aspects of a single ideal woman. In other words, Daiyu is all the things that Baochai is not, and vice-versa. T h e ideal woman they add up to appears briefly in the person of little Two-in-one towards the end of Baoyu's dream" (SS 1:528-529). Other critics have concurred that Jianmei is a compound character and that Baochai and Daiyu are complementary, or each is the other's double or shadow. 75 Here I would also interpret Jianmei as an embodiment of all the manifestations of desire or passion (qing), the variety of attachment between the male and the female, and all the traits of the other female figures, in toto:76 given what we have learned from the discussions concerning Xiyouji and Xiyou bu, the figure Jianmei is not only a composite of Baochai and Daiyu, but she represents the entirety of womanhood or, rather, maidenhood. Another detail also lends support to this interpretation. T h e names for the incense, tea, and wine—things Baoyu inhales and drinks in the Land of Illusion—suggest a distillation from various sources, apart from their intimations of the tragic outcome of the story. T h e perfume is called qunfangsui (literally, the "marrow" of myriad flowers, and by extension, beauties; HLM 5.82), the tea qianhongyiku (a thousand flowers congealed in one cave; HLM 5.83), the wine wanyan tongbei (ten thousand flowers contained in one cup; HLM 5.83). 77 T h e garden of the Ningguo mansion is called Huifang yuan (literally, the gathering together of all fragrances, flowers), upon which is built the Daguan yuan. 78 Qin Keqing's bedchamber, in which Baoyu dreams of his visit to the Land of Illusion, is decorated with objects known from Chinese erotic stories (chap. 5). It is another testimony—her room is virtually a museum. Moreover, the term "shi'er chai"also refers to composite womanhood or maidenhood; 79 each is a representation of some of its aspects. I suggest further that Jianmei is also a double of the goddess Disenchantment herself. Let us consider the literary precedents of this fairy or goddess. Wai-yee Li has meticulously and convincingly traced her evolution from various writings, in particular the fu, (rhapsody) of the Han dynasty and later, and has pointed to her significance in bringing forth the paradox of enchantment and disenchantment in

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Chinese literature.80 However, the goddess has also something about her that suggests the influence of Buddhist writings, for instance, the figure Vasumitra (Poxumiduo) in Ru fajie pin, especially when we consider the goddess' double and contradictory roles, both in Baoyu's sexual initiation and in his admonishment. As is discussed in Chapter 2, Vasumitra is a similar figure, able to lead others to enlightenment by working on the desire—often sexual—of others. Those who look at her, talk to her, hold her hand, embrace her, or kiss her will eventually gain some enlightenment. The goddess Disenchantment here is equally ambiguous, bringing about as she does Baoyu's sexual awakening.81 No wonder that the critic Huashi zhuren questions whether her role is to "disenchant" (jinghuan)— as is professed—or to "enchant" (yinhuan)—as actually happens (HLMJ 1:176). He thinks that the goddess is confused and confusing: referring to the Ford of Errors, or mijin (literally, ford of the deluded, disoriented, lost), that Baoyu falls into, the critic wonders how a person can find enlightenment there (jinjiyue mi, zhimi ruhe neng wu; HLMJ 1:176), since mi (bhranti) is the opposite of wu (enlightenment). This critic is unable to resolve the contradiction. If, however, we consider the Mahayana paradox, this contradiction, which runs throughout the novel, can be understood. Thus, I interpret the goddess' "sister" as her own double or shadow, in that she fulfills the role of the "enchanter." As the goddess professes when she meets the protagonist Baoyu: I live beyond the Realm of Separation, in the Sea of Sadness. There is a Mountain of Spring Awakening which rises from the midst of that sea, and that mountain is the Paradise of Full-blown Flower, and in that paradise is the Land of Illusion, which is my home. My business is with the romantic passions, love-debts, girlish heartbreaks and male philanderings of your duststained, human world. The reason I have come here today is that recently there has been a heavy concentration of love-^arwa in this area, and I hope to be able to find an opportunity of distributing a quantity of amorous thoughts by implanting them in the appropriate breasts. My meeting with you here today is no accident but a part of the same project. (HLM 5.74; SS 1:129-130)

Her role is to induce enlightenment in Baoyu by means of sexual initiation. Of course, as with many prophecies, their significance is not immediately grasped (otherwise the book would have come to an abrupt end). Indeed, Baoyu does not awaken from the dream—the illusion—as is expected; in fact, he sinks deeper. The next morning, Baoyu and Jianmei wander off in the fairyland and come across a visionary landscape of wilderness, sinister

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in every respect, "where only thorn-trees grew and wolves and tigers prowled around in pairs. Ahead of them the road ended at the edge of a dark ravine. No bridge connected it with the other side" (SS 1:147). This place, as Disenchantment hurries over to explain, is the Ford of the Deluded (mijin; Hawkes: Ford of Error). She warns Baoyu: It is ten thousand fathoms deep and extends hundreds of miles in either direction. N o boat can ever cross it; only a raft manned by a lay-brother called N u m b and an acolyte called D u m b . N u m b holds the steering paddle and D u m b wields the pole. T h e y won't ferry anyone across for money, but only take those w h o are fated to cross over. (HLMfj.91;

SS 1:47)

The story develops independently of her will: "Even as she spoke there was a rumbling like thunder from inside the abyss and a multitude of demons and water monsters reached up and clutched Baoyu to drag him down into its depths" (HLM 5.91; SS 1:147). In Buddhist terms, the ravine may be seen as the river of life and death, or, to be more specific—and reductive—the river of love (Aihe)?2 Indeed, another nomenclature for this is qingtian yuhai (skies of passion and seas of desire). Interestingly, a palace in the Land of Illusion is called Seas of Pain and Skies of Passion (Niehai Qingtian; HLM 5.75; SS 1:130). Baoyu has fallen into the river, despite warnings from the ever-vigilant goddess Disenchantment, or perhaps as part of her scheme. The problem he faces now is whether to drown there or ferry himself across to the other shore. Another significant detail should not escape us: Baoyu calls on Jianmei, styled Keqing, the fairy who has initiated him into sexual pleasure—rather than Disenchantment (Jinghuan)—to save him. Since Jianmei represents "enchantment" of the spectrum, Baoyu is counting on "enchantment" to bring about "disenchantment." The role of the goddess Disenchantment and her double Jianmei in Baoyu's life cannot be exaggerated. This interpretation is supported in another way by the elaborate, descriptive fu (rhapsody) immediately following the goddess' appearance. The commentator Zhiyanzhai justifies this uncharacteristically conventional piece of writing—the only other instance being two ci poems accorded to Baoyu—by suggesting that the two figures constitute the centrality of the novel (tongbu dagang; ZYZ^.lvf). He implies that the goddess is Baoyu's equal structurally; they form two lines that run throughout the book. In this context the commentator does not mention other female figures, not even Daiyu and Baochai, because they and other female characters are all variously her manifestations.

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Baoyu's dream visit can be regarded as an epitome of the whole novel; what Baoyu reads is a synopsis of the totality ofhuman experience. The manifestations of desire that unfold in the novel are fulfillments of the prophecies in the Honglou meng suite. Events in the human world, that is, mirror those in the fairyland. By extension, the Prospect Garden can be seen as a mirror or reflection of the Land of Illusion—the fairyland's concretization and actualization in the human realm. Zhiyanzhai writes, "The Garden is the Land of Illusion (Taixu xuanjing) of Baoyu and the twelve girls" (ZYZ 16.282). Baoyu is impressed by his first visit to the fairyland: They came to a place of marble terraces and vermilion balustrades where there were green trees and crystal streams. Everything in this place was so clean and so pure that it seemed as if no human foot could ever have trodden there or floating speck of dust ever blown into it. Baoyu's dreaming self rejoiced. "What a delightful place!" he thought. "If only I could spend all my life here! How much niccr it would be than living under the daily restraint of my parents and teachers!" (HLM 5.93; SS 1:128)

Eventually he finds himself living felicitously in a place like that—the Prospect Garden. Thus, the Prospect Garden is the Land of Illusion. Indeed, the buildings in the garden do suggest the fairyland. Baoyu is amazed at the main building in the garden: "The sight of this building and its arch had inspired a strange and unaccountable stir of emotion in Baoyu which on reflection he interpreted as a sign that he must have known a building somewhat like this before—though where or when he could not for the life of him remember" (HLM 17-18.237; SS 1:343). The initial inscription of the marble arch is, significandy, "Precinct of the Celestial Visitant" (Tianxian baojing), which hints at the Land of Illusion, or another version of it in a different reality. Moreover, the Chinese original plays on the homophones ofjing (sphere, area, precinct) and jing (mirror, mirroring, reflection), both terms unambiguously Buddhist in their connotations. By the same token, the novel can be regarded as the epitome, a mirror, of humanity. In chapter 116, Baoyu, in a trance, revisits the Land of Illusion, the penultimate event to his enlightenment. By now the fairyland has become the Paradise of Truth (Zhenru fudi). Each fairyland is the other's double. Both represent different states of mind, or the Prospect Garden viewed from different perspectives, the same way the Bejeweled Mirror of Romance has two reflecting sides. Baoyu, beginning to awaken, understands: the goddess Disenchantment's work in chapter 5 has finally borne fruit.83 She is, however, significandy absent in this new paradise;

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instead, those who greet Baoyu are the female characters who have died in the course of the story. At this moment, one concludes, there is no need for the goddess, as she is embodied in all the female characters in the Prospect Garden who are her various emanations. Thus, in fact, she is absent and yet present.84 There is another highly plausible interpretation concerning the relationships among the Stone, Jia Baoyu, and other female characters. Given the complicated metafictional discourse in the first and last chapters, we may regard the Stone as the protagonist of the novel. He does not actually descend to the human realm, however; rather, it is the Buddhist mahasattva who has conjured up a grand illusion about his experiences in the Jia house. In other words, the whole book is an illusion experienced by the Stone, an interpretation supported by how the mahasattva shrank the huge stone into ajade pendant that can fit into the baby Baoyu's mouth—by using his ability to create illusions (dazhan huanshu; HLM 1.3). Buddhist lore certainly supports this interpretation, as Buddhas and bodhisattvas often create illusions, sometimes with the snap of a finger, as a spiritual aid to the converts; Buddha himself is called the Great Magician (da huanshi).85 The book, therefore, is the Stone's dream. Indeed, the commentator Zhang Xinzhi has repeatedly elaborated on the identity of the Stone and the human mind.86 In this way, then, Baoyu is the Stone, and the female characters are self-reflections of Baoyu, hence of the Stone. Consider the names of the two principal female characters and we can arrive at this formula: Stone/Jade (baoyu) = Baoyu = BaocWai + Daijyw.87 Thus, Daiyu's retort to Baoyu's dabbling with Zen takes on an added significance. She teases Baoyu: li'Bao' is that which is of all things the most precious and 'yu' is that which is of all things the most hard. Wherein lies your preciousness and wherein lies your hardness?" ( H L M 22.308; SS 1:442). Meanwhile, the protagonist's femininity seems to support this interpretation; the commentator designates him as the paragon of the many beauties (zhongyan zhiguan). Seen this way, the novel resembles Xiyou bu in terms of structure, thus further complicating the already sophisticated doublings in the Qing masterpiece.

D O U B L I N G ( P A R T 2): JIA B A O Y U — A M N E S I A AND

REMEMBRANCE88

Unkempt hair, coarse garments, a man from antique times, Dried-up branches, cold ashes, a body that is completely free. I am like him and he is like me, I ask him, "Who on earth are you?"8''

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The above considerations may be regarded as a discussion ofjia Baoyu's mind in its relationship with the outside, in particular with the female characters and the setting of the story, the Prospect Garden. The following is a consideration of the protagonist's mind when it turns in upon itself by, again, an analysis of the mirroring and doubling devices and structures. The most obvious doubling is the pairing of Zhen Baoyu {Zhen suggesting true, real) and Jia Baoyu ( J i a suggesting illusory). The protagonist Jia Baoyu is plagued by the tension between his different allegiances, namely between his individualistic pursuit oflove and his social obligations. As early as in chapter 2, mention of Zhen Baoyu accentuates J i a Baoyu's eccentricities ( H L M 2.31-32; SS 1:80-81).

At home in the company of girls, he rivals Jia Baoyu in his unconditional praise of girls and disdain for boys. In a highly charged episode that fuses many of the doubling devices, Jia Baoyu meets his double in a dream. 90 After overhearing conversations among family members about a Zhen Baoyu who resembles him, both physically and temperamentally, at night he dreams about meeting his counterpart in a setting reminiscent of his own dwelling. The two Baoyus are amazed at the encounter: "/ came here looking for Baoyu. Art you Baoyu then?" [Jia] Baoyu could not help blurting out. T h e youth [Zhen Baoyu] leaped down from the bed and seized Baoyu by the hands: " S o you are Baoyu, and this isn't a dream after all?" " O f course it isn't a d r e a m , " said Baoyu. " I t couldn't be more real!" J u s t then someone arrived with a summons: " T h e master wants to see B a o y u . " For a moment the two Baoyus were stunned; and then one Baoyu hurried off and the other Baoyu was left calling after him: " C o m e back, Baoyu! C o m e back, B a o y u ! " Aroma heard him calling his own name in his sleep and shook him awake. "Where's B a o y u ? " she asked him jokingly. T h o u g h awake, Baoyu had not yet regained consciousness of his surroundings. H e pointed to the doorway: " H e ' s only j u s t left. H e can't have got very far." " Y o u are still dreaming," Aroma said, amused. " R u b your eyes and have another look. T h a t ' s the mirror. You're looking at your own reflection in the mirror." Baoyu leaned forward and looked. H e j o i n e d Aroma in laughing at himself. 91 {HLM 56.795-796; 5 5 3 : 8 6 - 8 7 )

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This episode, built upon dreaming and mirroring, is "worthy of the modern Borges," to quote Anthony Yu. 9 2 Indeed, this story (Sueno infinito de Pao Yu) is included in a collection of fantastic tales that Borges and others edited, together with the episode about the Bejeweled Mirror of Wind and Moon (El espejo de vientoy luna) discussed above. 93 Baoyu's maid Xiren (Aroma), when told about his dream, does not comprehend the whole situation. Nevertheless, she points to something whose significance she does not fathom: mirror, reflection, and selfreflexivity. T h e mirror is a symbol of Baoyu's self-consciousness, and the dreaming of his double in front of the mirror can be seen as his attempt to understand his own self, at least unconsciously. T o some extent, his double Zhen Baoyu could be regarded as his superego, 94 a point that takes on relevance as the story continues to unfold: the image of the mirror appears many times (chaps. 17, 26, 41). At this moment, however, Baoyu does not understand the significance of his dream; he is still a lost soul. Toward the end of the novel, Zhen Baoyu has been completely transformed—reformed—and stands in contrast to Jia Baoyu, a character type that Jia detests. In Jungian terms, he can be said to have become Jia Baoyu's "shadow." T h e turning point of Zhen Baoyu's transformation comes during his dream visit to the Land of Illusion. Whereas Jia Baoyu's dream visit has only aggravated the intensity of his "lust of mind," Zhen Baoyu's dream visit there, in stark contrast, has reoriented his life: he has changed from an eccentric like Jia Baoyu into a social man, with Confucian aspirations (HLM 93.1320; SS 4:270). T h e goddess Disenchantment's warnings have struck home in his case, whereas with Jia Baoyu they backfired. By the end of this novel, when the Baoyus meet, the two are no longer in accord, and Jia Baoyu finds the meeting a disappointment {HLM 115.1572-1576; SS 5:273-278). Our hero describes the encounter to Baochai, now his wife, thusly: "He certainly looks like me. But I could tell from the way he talked that he was a fool, just another career worm." Considered in this way, it seems that the author concretizes the struggle within the protagonist's mind by delineating two characters who share identical traits yet ultimately take different paths in life. What is more, within Jia Baoyu these devices take on different levels of significance as the mise en abyme—the doublings refer back to the protagonist himself and to the composition of the novel, assuming a metafictional dimension. 95 For example, Baoyu reads a synoptic version of the novel itself—the Honglou meng suite—in the Land of Illusion: in a way the hero of Honglou meng reads Honglou meng, and he tries to recall this dream. He reads this text twice. 96 T h e thin line between reality and illusion is in this way erased. I argue that Baoyu's

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process of enlightenment, including his psychological activities and his inward struggles, is troped by such doubling constructions, especially by the tension between amnesia and remembrance. T h e protagonist's obsession with memory—hence with his own self—is determined by the particular life he lives: he has within himself at least three forms of existence. First, he is the son o f j i a Zheng and Lady Wang, heir apparent of the Rongguo house. Second, he is the carrier of the Stone, which the goddess Niiwa has left unused, which has been transformed into ajade pendant by the Buddhist, and which has become his amulet and hangs on his chest. He is well aware of the uniqueness imparted to him by that piece of jade. Third, and most important, he is the reincarnation of the Luminescent Stone. In the course of the story, Baoyu's salvation resides in his self-introspection, his attempts to comprehend the particular nature of his existence. In turn, one aspect of his self attempts to comprehend the other aspect. His "contemplation" of things happening around him only leads to a study of his own self—what he is, who he is, where he is. Outwardly, Baoyu leaves the impression that he is often preoccupied and lost in thought. Others fail to understand this peculiar man and tend to use negative epithets when referring to him. In Baoyu's sojourn in the human realm he is considered as wandering in a state of mi or wuming, an unenlightened state of loss and disorientation, lacking knowledge of his original nature. His existence is an amnesia, or a dream from which he needs to awaken. And this dream may be seen in the unfolding story as a dream within dreams. Chapter 85 describes a party celebratingjia Zheng's promotion and Daiyu's birthday. A play about the moon goddess Chang E is staged for the occasion, and a minor character comments: That was "The Transfiguration." . . . It tells the story of Chang E, who comes down to earth from her palace in the moon and is about to give her hand to mortal lover when the Goddess of Mercy [bodhisattva Guanyin] opens her eyes to the truth, and she dies before the marriage can take place. In that scene, she is being wafted up to the moon. Didn't you catch the words of her aria? 'Tis Love that rules the minds of men, And of this Truth Eternal Obscures all trace: That even harvest moons must wane And purest beauty vernal Fade from grace. Alas, 'twas Mortal Love

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That veiled my sight, And all but stole me From my orb of light. ( H L M 85.1127; SS 4:132)

This play is a comment on the characters, particularly Baoyu and Daiyu: they are like Chang E, whose eyes are beclouded by passion and who forgets her original, "heavenly" existence. Living in ignorance of one's origins is to live in a state of loss and disorientation (mishi benxing).97 The second part of the couplet that forms the title of chapter 96 is "Pin'er mi benxing" (Minford: "And Frowner is deranged"). There are indeed many scenes in which the characters are lost, especially in the vicinity of Baoyu's residence in the Prospect Garden, the House of Green Delights—a place like a labyrinth. When Jia Zheng and his coterie make their first visit to the garden, they are lost in this area: Jia Zheng, after taking no more than a couple of turns inside this confusing interior, was already lost. T o the left of him was what appears to be a door. T o the right was a wall with a window in it. But on raising its portière he discovered the door to be a bookcase; and when, looking back, he observed—what he had not noticed before—that the light coming in through the silk gauze of the window illuminated a passage-way leading to an open doorway, and began walking towards it, a party of gentlemen similar to his own came advancing to meet him, and he realized that he was walking towards a large mirror. They were to circumvent the mirror, but only to find an even more bewildering choice of doorways on the other side. ( H L M 17-18.239; SS 1:346-347)

The commentator Zhiyanzhai asks this rhetorical question: "Is Brother Stone lost?" (ZYZ 17.310). Another commentator, Zhang Xinzhi, compares this place with the milou (labyrinthine tower) of the Sui emperor Yangdi (569-618): a place of decadent indulgence, its corridors and passageways are so confusing that people tend to get lost there for days, unable to find a way out.98 Granny Liu (Liu Laolao) gets lost there in a hilarious scene {HLM 41.572-574; SS 2:318-322), as she fails to recognize her own image in the mirror in Baoyu's residence." Miaoyu (Adamantina) experiences disorientation in the garden. After visiting the garden she is ready to leave for her hermitage, but, as she explains herself, the paths are confusing: "It's so long since I've been to see you, and the way home is full of twists and turns. I'm afraid of losing my way" {HLM 87.1257; SS 4:171). Baoyu volunteers to be her guide.100 It is on their way back that they overhear Daiyu

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playing the zither, and Miaoyu has a premonition of Daiyu's early death. Also on this night, Miaoyu, in her daily meditation, is disturbed by "evil spirits" because of her illicit feelings for Baoyu and falls almost fatally ill. More important are the occasions when Baoyu gets lost in his dreams, especially his two visits to the Land of Illusion: in both cases he loses his way there and needs a guide. T h e author plays on this concept of mi, which points to the fact that life in this world is only an illusion, a dream, hence the all too obvious, pervasive dream motif. For instance, during the wedding ceremony of Baoyu and Baochai, the bridegroom is in a bedazzled situation. A feeling of helpless bewilderment seized him, and thinking he must be dreaming, he stood there in a motionless d a z e . . . . After a while, Baoyu had composed himself sufficiently to think. He . . . asked Aroma in a whisper: "Where am I? T h i s must all be a dream." " A dream? W h y , it's the happiest day of your life!" said Aroma. " H o w can you be so silly?" (HLM 97.1376; SS 4:363-364)

T h e tenor of this episode may suggest the passages from Zhuangzi and Liezi discussed in Chapter 4.101 Given the particular Buddhist philosophy and psychology that inform the novel, this mi is troped as an amnesia. Baoyu's quest to discover his self-nature— hence his salvation—consists to a great extent of the gradual recall of his former life, which, as filtered through the lenses of Zen, entails the understanding of one's original nature (benlai mianmu). T o reach this end one must be guided by different agents, whether human or superhuman. T h e tenacity of memory inevitably points to the question of origin. Salvation is troped, then, as remembrance, gradual or sudden, of one's origin and one's former incarnations. T h e memories of the characters arejogged, and the juxtapositions of remembrances and current events involve repetition. Viewed in this way, one's life may be regarded as a mise en abyme, incarnation within incarnations or a text within texts, and the recollections themselves can be regarded as "mirrors in the text." This brings us to Buddhist assumptions about karma and the role of memory. 102

In our discussion of the historical Buddha's own enlightenment in Chapter

2, we cited passages about the significance of remembrance. Indeed, memories of past fives played an important role in the historical Buddha's enlightenment. In Buddha's account,

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I directed my mind to the knowledge and recollection of former abodes. I remembered a variety of former abodes: one birth, two births, four births, five births,... a hundred thousand births, and many aeons of creation, many aeons of destruction, and many aeons of creation and destruction. There I was named, of such a clan, of such a caste, such food, such experience of pleasure and pain, such a life span. Passing away there, I appeared elsewhere.... Thus I remembered various former abodes in all their modes and details.103 In Chinese narrative and dramatic works, the characters' recollections are often concentrated on the immediately preceding incarnation, unlike Buddha, whose memory reached back eons. Sometimes the memories of the characters in literary works are concerned with previous experiences in the present incarnation. In chapter 116, the monk's advice to Jia Baoyu at the end of the story is: "Just take care to remember all you have experienced (zhiyao ba liguode shiqing xixide jizhe).'''' In this regard karma and retribution are woven into the texture of the novel; they are no longer merely a convention to be followed on the surface level. T h e following fictive account concerning the philosopher Wang Shouren (Wang Yangming, 1472-1529) is representative. It is said that the Ming philosopher visited a Buddhist temple one day, and his curiosity was piqued by a room that was locked. He forced the door open against the protestations of the monks and discovered a monk in a trancelike posture, who resembled himself in every way. He was amazed. Then he discovered a verse on the wall: "[This is] the Wang Shouren fifty years ago; / He who opens the door is none other than he who closed it.'" 04 He thereupon understood and awoke. This essentially mise en abyme structure recurs in Honglou meng, in more refined form. Representative of such forms are the many scenes of déjà vu, 105 scenes in which memory is jogged and one is turned inward. Salvation is centered around self-knowledge, which is at the same time knowledge about the nature of the world. When Daiyu first catches sight of Baoyu, "Daiyu looked at him with astonishment. How strange! How very strange! It was as though she had seen him somewhere before, he was so extraordinarily familiar" (HLM 3.49; SS 1:101). Baoyu has almost an identical feeling: "I have seen this cousin before." "Nonsense!" said Grandmother Jia. "How could you possibly have done?" "Well, perhaps not," said Baoyu, "but her face seems so familiar that I have the impression of meeting her again after a long separation." (HLM 3.51; SS 1:103)

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Meanwhile, certain places function in a similar way, although all Baoyu is sure of is that he has seen these places at other times. In chapters 17-18, for instance, when he visits the garden prepared for the visitation of his sister, now an imperial consort, he is struck by a vague feeling that he has seen one of the buildings before (HLM 17-18.237; SS 1:343), an episode w e have discussed in its relationship to the mirror. Other incidents also have the same effect, 106 and the significance of his second visit to the Land of Illusion is in part that it sharpens his memory: He felt a growing certainty that he had been here on some previous occasion. Finally he plucked up the courage to push the door open, and went i n . . . . It was pitch dark inside and he was about to give in to fear and retrace his steps when his eyes discerned, looming in the darkness, the shapes of a dozen large cupboards, their doors apparently pushed to but unlocked. A sudden realization swept over him: "I know I've been somewhere like this before. I remember it now. It was in a dream. What a blessing this is, to return to the scene of my childhood dream!" (HLM 116.1582-1583; SS 5:286) T o a great extent, the novel dramatizes the tension between remembrance and amnesia. Remembrance means enlightenment, an understanding of one's origin, hence the questions of " W h e n c e ? " in the novel. Suzuki's illuminating remarks help us better understand this issue: Psychologically, the answer to "Where?" indicates one's fundamental mental attitude towards the objective world generally, and in Zen the question usually takes the form, "Where do you come from?" by which the Zen master wishes to see where his monks find their spiritual refuge located. The whole training of Zen Buddhism, it may be said, consists in this location, or searching, or digging-down. Enlightenment, therefore, is no more than coming in touch with the rock-bed of one's own being, if there is really such. The form which the question of "Where?" takes in Zen Buddhism is thus, "Where do you come from?" This is quite a conventional question, but those who know knew what a tremendous question this is. The question may also be, "Whither do you go?" "Whence?" and "Whither?"—those who can adequately answer these are really the enlightened.107 Such questions, however remotely asked, are likely to confound Baoyu, w h o lives under a shroud of forgetfidness and is puzzled by his o w n nature. Consider

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this e p i s o d e , w h e n B a o y u h a p p e n s to m e e t M i a o y u ( A d a m a n t i n a ) , the B u d d h i s t n u n , at his c o u s i n ' s r e s i d e n c e :

"Greetings, Reverend Sister!" he said with a smile. "Wherefore this rare excursion from the mystic portals of Zen? What karma brings thee to Maya's dusty realm?" She blushed from ear to ear, said nothing, lowered her head and stared at the Go-board. Baoyu could see that he had embarrassed her, and tried to make up for it. "Seriously," he said, with a charming smile, " h o w can common mortals compare with those w h o , like you, have renounced the world? In the first place, you have achieved inner peace. A n d with that peace comes a deep spirituality. A n d with that spirituality a clear i n s i g h t . . . . " As he was speaking, Adamantina lifted her eyes a fraction and glanced at him. She looked down again at once, and a deep flush spread slowly across her face. Baoyu realized that she was deliberately trying to ignore him, and sat down awkwardly beside the table. Xichun wanted to continue the game, but after a silence Adamantina said: "Let's play another day." Having said this, she stood up, straightened out her dress and sat down again. T h e n , turning to Baoyu, she asked, in a zany voice: "Where have you come from?" It came as a great relief to Baoyu that she should speak to him at all, and he was grateful of the chance to remedy his earlier blunder. But then it suddenly struck him that her question might not be as straightforward

as it

sounded. Was this one of her Zen subtleties ? He sat there tongue-tied and red in the face. Adamantina smiled and turned to talk to Xichun. Xichun smiled too. "Cousin Bao," she said, "what's so hard about that? Haven't you heard the saying 'I come from whence I come'? T o judge by the colour of your face anyone would think you were among strangers. Don't be shy." (HLM 87.1251; SS 4:170-171, emphasis added)

A p a r t from revealing the tension b e t w e e n forgetting a n d m e m o r y w i t h i n B a o y u , this e p i s o d e c o u l d b e r e g a r d e d as an e x a m p l e o f " h e t e r o g l o s s i a , " w h e r e w o r d s h a v e different levels o f m e a n i n g , m o r e levels even than the speakers themselves are a w a r e of. H e r e A d a m a n t i n a , the B u d d h i s t n u n , has strong, illicit feelings for B a o y u . B a o y u taunts h e r b y u s i n g stilted, formulaic religious l a n g u a g e , meanw h i l e u n a w a r e o f the fact that all this c o u l d w e l l b e a p p l i e d to himself. O n l y w h e n A d a m a n t i n a hints at the issue o f " W h e n c e ? " d o e s h e find h i m s e l f s h a k e n a n d at a

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loss for words: one of his most typical reactions. Initially he is about to answer the question in a matter-of-fact way, but he is awakened to its religious significance. In fact, we cannot overemphasize the importance of " W h e n c e ? " — t h e matter of origin (laili) in the novel. 108 Cases of laili always involve a personal history, a story within a story, a mirror in the text. Such inquiries are taken seriously, not as small talk; sometimes this has a thundering quality. Consider this episode in chapter 4, when Jia Yucun's usher reminds him of the Bottle-gourd Temple, the place whence he had started his official career: "Your face is certainly familiar," said Yucun, "but for the moment I simply can't place it." The usher smiled again. "Has Your Honour forgotten the place you started from? Do you remember nothing of the old times in Bottle-gourd Temple?" With a start of recognition, Yucun remembered. {HLM 4.58; SS 1:110) C a o Xueqin's version is more startling yet: when Y u c u n hears mention of the temple, the effect is like a clap of thunder (ru leizhenyiban),

and thunder is often

associated with Buddhist enlightenment. 109 Another important character, Liu Xianglian, wins salvation by pondering this question of origin. Liu's betrothed has committed suicide. In a trance, Liu relives the moment when she speaks her last words to him. T h e n he suddenly becomes aware of a lame Taoist nearby, who seems to have appeared from nowhere. " W h a t is this place, holy one?" he asks the religious figure, " A n d may I know whom I have the honour of addressing?" T o his surprise, this is how the Taoist answers him, enigmatically: "I don't know where this place is any more than you do. Nor w h o I am. It is a place where I am resting a little while before going on elsewhere" {HLM 66.946; SS 3:306-307). Immediately, Liu understands all; he follows the Taoist to no one knows where. T h i s foreshadows Baoyu's enlightenment, which is directly achieved by a Buddhist asking him the origin of his jade pendant. In fact this obsession with origin is truer of the hero than of anyone else. T h e jade pendant that accompanies Baoyu at birth may be regarded as an enigmatic text about his origin, a reminder of some certain former existence. Everyone, including Daiyu, is curious about its laili, but nobody knows or understands. Baoyu's salvation depends upon a proper reading and understanding of this enigma. T h u s , the jade pendant itself essentially is a mise en abyme text per se, a miniature text of the whole book. T o w a r d the end of the novel, Baoyu becomes almost an imbecile after losing

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his jade. T h e jade (baoyu)—the illusory form of the Stone—which, with its magic power endowed by the goddess Niiwa and intensified by the Buddhist mahasattva, acts as Baoyu's intelligence, and seems to have left him for some particular purpose: first, to escape and protect himself from the impending doom; and second, to provide occasions that allow the predestined events to transpire smoothly, namely the death of Daiyu and Baoyu's marriage to Baochai. T h e Buddhist monk finally returns it to Baoyu after a difficult period of emotional turmoil, at a moment when his life is apparently in danger: After a good deal of laughter he held the jade in one hand, bent down and whispered in Baoyu's ear: "Baoyu! Precious Jade [Baoyujbaoyu]'.

Your Stone [baoyu] has returned!"

No sooner has he spoken than Baoyu opened his eyes a slit. " H e lives!" cried Aroma ecstatically. "Where is it?" asked Baoyu. T h e monk placed the jade in Baoyu's hand. At first Baoyu clutched it tightly, then slowly he turned his hand palm upwards and brought the Stone up to eye-level. He peered at it closely and exclaimed: "Ah! W e are united at last!" (HLM 115.1579; SS 5:282)

Baoyu treats the Stone as a sentient being—and rightly so. By this time, he is about to gain complete enlightenment, and here the author deliberately exploits the self-reflexive properties of the kenning on Baoyu/taojyM, a quality that Tripitaka's name (Sanzang, "Tripitaka") shares to a different degree. By chapter 117 Baoyu comprehends all and has no more need of the Stone, the jade. Thus, he is ready to return it to the monk, because he has completed his spiritualjourney. T h e monk is none other than the one who appears in the first chapter and is responsible for the Stone's transformation. He now comes to help Baoyu sever his last ties with this world. "Father," he [Baoyu] said, "please be patient.... Please be seated and wait a while. May I venture to enquire, Father, whether you have recendy returned from the Land of Illusion?" "Illusion, my foot!" exclaimed the monk. " I come whence I come, and I go whither I go. I came here to return your jade. But let me askjyoM a question: where did your jade come from?" For a minute or so Baoyu could think of no reply. T h e monk laughed. "If you know nothing of your own provenance, why delve into mine?" Baoyu had always been a sensitive and intelligent child, and his recent

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illumination had enabled him to penetrate to a certain extent the veil of earthly vanity and illusion. But he still knew nothing of his own personal "history," and the monk's question hit him like a whack on the head. "I know!" he exclaimed. "It's not the money you're after. It's my jade. I'll give that back instead." "And so you should!" chuckled the monk. (HLM 117.1592; SS 5:301-302) T h i s conversation is kôan-like, a culmination of Baoyu's puzzle with his jade (baoyu), hence with the nature of his being. A t last Baoyu has come to understand the text of the jade as one that illuminates his personal history. T h e mission of the j a d e , however, is to help with his spiritual development, apart from his own adventure. A s Baoyu puts it himself when he is ready to return thejade to the monk, he has n o w developed a xin (HLM 117.1593), to be interpreted as the mind, the consciousness, the redemptive reflective power. T h i s point reminds us again of the Stone's affinity with the stone egg that becomes Sun W u k o n g in Xiyouji

in

symbolizing the human mind/heart. Zhang Xinzhi is perhaps the traditional critic w h o has done the most to highlight the working of the mind in Honglou meng, although his remarks are of extremely uneven quality. He considers the Stone as representing the human mind. 1 1 0 N o w Baoyu has his own mind and hence no longer needs the divine Stone or jade to be his intelligence. T h u s his experiences in the realm of desire have made him human—an enlightened human being at that. H e now returns t h e j a d e , not because he has realized that it is something completely negative—since it stands for his desire, 1 1 1 as W a n g G u o w e i assumes, it has to be renounced and discarded—but because it has fulfilled its positive mission. T h e mise en abyme structure becomes a means for the author to bring forth his message—to Jia Baoyu, to the Stone, to Vanitas, to C a o X u e q i n , and, finally, to us, the other readers. T h i s may be called a structure en abîme, w h i c h is, to use Beatriz Sarlo's words about Borges, "at the same time a narrative structure, a trope and a spatial model." 1 1 2 T h e vicissitudes and the riddles of life lead one to introspection, a mirroring process that consummates in illumination. Further, in this novel salvation is troped as a self-reflexive reading process, a reading of one's o w n life or lives, as well as a reading of the lives of others.

K O N G K O N G DAOREN ( V A N I T A S ) AND C A O X U E Q I N :

READINGS

No scene is more fantastic than gazing into the mirror within a mirror; no plot more fantastic than interpreting dreams within a dream; no writing more fan-

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tastic than telling tales within a tale. (Jin Shengtan, in Shuihu zhuan huiping ben, 2:50.930) Jean Ricardou seems to have made this distinction among mise en abyme structures: those concerned with the fiction level (vertical) and those concerned with the narration level (horizontal), although they are not always clearly demarcated.113 While the above considerations are concerned mainly with the mise en abyme structures manifested on thefictionlevel, the following will concentrate on the narration level. The protagonist Jia Baoyu—the reincarnation of the Luminescent Stone— finally earns salvation and renounces this world, after some twenty years of a life of intense passion and suffering, attachment, and loss. The Stone, having lived a vicarious life, also gains enlightenment and is returned to the mythical locus whence he came. The Stone inscribes what he has witnessed upon himself, hence the story of the Stone. As eons pass, a religious figure named Vanitas (Kongkong daoren) encounters the record on the Stone, transcribes it, and transmits it to the human world. He, as Miller points out, "contains a lesson in reading.'"14 A metafictional level of discourse (the narrator, the scribe, the editor) is introduced, where "the text presents the reader.. . with the producer and receiver of the very text he is reading.'" 15 Kongkong daoren is a naive, idealistic, pedantic, and somewhat opinionated Buddhist monk, embarked on a search for salvation, like the characters we have discussed—for example, Sadaprarudita and Sudhana in sutras and Tripitaka in the novel. He is well versed in Buddhist doctrine and Confucian orthodoxy. I call him a Buddhist monk because of his name, his tide, and his agenda. The term "daoren" (man of the Tao), besides being a title for Taoists—as the Taoist Miaomiao zhenren (Mysterioso) is called in this novel—also refers to Buddhist adepts.116 For some random examples, Ye Shaoyuan (1589-1648) styled himself Tianliao daoren when he took the Buddhist tonsure. The Ming dramatist Tu Long called himself Yina daoren. Emperor Shunzhi (r.1644-1661) of the Qing dynasty, whose Buddhist sympathies are no secret, styled himself Chenyin daoren and Chi daoren.117 The first lines in "Yongjia zhengdao ge," a Buddhist (Zen) primer, read, "Have you seen a man of Tao (daoren) at his ease / In his nonactive and beyond learning states / Who neither suppresses thoughts nor seeks the real?'" 18 Moreover, the term "kongkong,"Emptiness ofEmptiness (sunyatasunyata), is an important Buddhist concept, one of the eighteen manifestations of Emptiness, implying that Emptiness itself is not to be dwelled upon: "When all

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has been regarded as illusion, or unreal, the abstract idea of unreality itself must be destroyed." 119 This term also invites comparison with the Taoist concept of wu-wu (nonexistence of nonexistence). 120 T h e author Cao Xueqin seems to take great pleasure in paradoxical nomenclature, terms that look strange at first sight but capture the situation better than anything else, like qing bu qing and qing qing, the final assessments o f j i a Baoyu and Lin Daiyu, respectively. 121 However, the term "kongkong" has other connotations not strictly religious: it suggests someone who utterly lacks knowledge, understanding, and insight. T h e name Kongkong is a very significant one, although the figure bearing that name does not fully comprehend what it means until almost the end of the novel, as do most of the protagonists of the works we have discussed. At the edge of the world in the imagination of the traditional Chinese, Kongkong daoren encounters by accident, in his wanderings, the record inscribed on the Stone. Curious, he reads it. T h e magic Stone asks him to transcribe it and transmit it to the human world. Kongkong daoren, however, does not think much of it on first reading; it is nothing like the traditional historiography with which he is familiar. At this moment he is too obsessed with Buddhist emptiness, too inhibited by Confucian propriety, and therefore too blind to the potential illuminating power of the story, to participate in the drama himself. T h e Stone argues with him, trying to convince him of his poetics. Kongkong daoren reads it again, and something unexpected happens. This reading has changed his life. T h e effect is nothing short of a religious conversion. He penetrates into the nature of emptiness with the help of a text that is primarily about attachment, desire, passion. He has found what he has been seeking, but in an unorthodox way. It seems that he, with all his book—and rote—learning about the Tao, now has another frame of reference, namely the existential human spectrum. All his life he has been in search of the Tao, having amassed an immense store of doctrines and creeds, but he lacks what might be called existential experience in the human world to buttress them, to make them meaningful. In other words, he is already rigorously and aggressively occupied with the study of the ultimate truth, with transcendence, with nirvana, with emptiness; all he needs at this stage is to enter the realm of the conventional, the realm of the illusory (rujia). T h e author describes his experiences of enlightenment in epigrammatic, cryptic formulations: As a consequence of all this, Vanitas, starting off in the Void (which is Truth) came to the contemplation of Form (which is Illusion); and from Form engendered Passion; and by communicating Passion, entered again into Form; and from Form awoke to the Void (which is Truth). (HLM 1.6; SS 1:51)

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This paragraph stands apart from the rest of the text by virtue of its stylistic oddity, a parody ofXinjing (Heart sutra) as well as of other scriptures. It also resembles Dong Yue's own interpretation of his Xiyou bu, where he discusses the need to enter into the realm of desire so as to conquer it. 122 Not only does Kongkong daoren bring a copy of the story to the world, but he also changes his own name and records his own experiences in the story: He therefore changed his name from Vanitas to Brother Amor, or the Passionate Monk (because he had approached Truth by way of Passion), and changed

the tide of the book from The Story of the Stone to The Tale of Brother Amor. (HLM 1.5; SS 1:51) Brother Amor (Qingseng) is seemingly oxymoronic, for a Buddhist monk has to adhere to a vow of celibacy and renounce all desires (qing). But this name brings forth the paradoxical nature of certain strains of Mahayana Buddhism: the monk finds salvation in a vicarious experience oflove and passion—human attachment. It is this experience that makes him human; it is also this experience that leads him to salvation. In terms of the enlightenment process, Jia Baoyu, or the Luminescent Stone, is an inveterate gradualist; so is the Stone that accompanies him in his participation in the great illusion of life. If both the Stone and Baoyu represent the gradual approach, then Kongkong daoren embodies a totally different one, that of the sudden. This conforms with the general milieu, which seems to privilege the sudden at the expense of the gradual. Toward the end ofa story of gradual enlightenment, another character is introduced, one who represents another view of enlightenment, pointing toward the sudden, yet who is intrinsic to the story proper. This leads us back again to the exegetical tradition concerning

Huayanjing's

Ru fajie pin, in particular to Wenshu zhinan tuzan or Pictures and Eulogies of (Sudhana's Journey to) the South As Pointed Out to Him. by Manjusrt (ca. 1101), which are illustrations of Sudhana's visitations with short exegeses in prose and eulogies in verse by the Zen master Foguo (Weibo, dates unknown). 123 Interestingly, in the last picture, Foguo included his portrait in the book and offered his own commentary in the form of exegesis and eulogy. In the same vein as Li Tongxuan, Foguo summarized Sudhana's arduous and endless journey. According to him, if Sudhana gains enlightenment here and now, there is no need for him to journey; he can find ease and rest. T h e suggestion seems to be that readers need not bother with the journey, but need only to read the book. T h e verse reads,

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[You] must feel that time is running late, You who have covered such a distance in your life. You have visited more thanfiftykalyanamitra, And passed [more than] a hundred cities. You have arrived here, and don't differentiate any more; Can you find illumination here and now? If you still say that you need go south or north, It's no different from a sparrow hawk flying over Silla. Kongkong daoren's role in Honglou meng is a complicated one. In offering an alternative way, he embodies another vision of enlightenment, for which his rote learning has prepared him well. In this way he is like the Zen master Foguo, whose portrait is affixed to a story of a gradualist, long search. In contrast to the illustrations about Sudhana, who is always on his feet, Foguo is conspicuously sedentary. At the same time, as Kongkong daoren is a reader or receiver of the text, he shows us how to read the book, as well as the effect of this reading. His reading involves two aspects: first, the book has enlightened him; second, he writes himself into the book while copying it. All this drama notwithstanding, Kongkong daoren's comprehension is still only partial, and the story or the record he reads is not a complete version either. From the point of the Madhyamika (the Middle Way), his is a contemplation of "entering into the Provisional from Emptiness," which "aims at the establishment of dharmas and embracing them (cong kong rujia, shi Ufa sheshou)," in contrast to Baoyu and the Stone, whose contemplation can be characterized as "entering into Emptiness from the Provisional," which "aims at the destruction of dharmas and overcoming them (congjia ru kong, skipofa zhefu).^V24 From his immediate response, we understand that Kongkong daoren now accepts the realm of the conventional, but there is something lacking in him, namely the cheerful wisdom of the two religious figures who bring the Stone to earth. He attaches too much importance to the "literal" dimension of the text, rather than viewing it from a broader perspective. 125 Thus, in the last chapter Kongkong daoren must appear again, to read the complete version of the record and to be transformed completely. At this point he has adopted some of the cheerful wisdom that is the trademark of the two religious figures. It is at this juncture that Cao Xueqin appears, Cao Xueqin the character in the novel, who masqueraded as its "editor" in its sophisticated narrative frame. Once one possesses the truth, has seen it face-to-face, and has experienced it existentially, he should not dwell upon it and be lulled into complacency. Rather,

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he should go on to transcend it, a process that on the surface looks like, paradoxically, a subversion of all that he has worked so hard to see. Thus, the Stone is replaced by Kongkong daoren, and Kongkong daoren is in turn replaced by Cao Xueqin, who seems to have the "last" word. His appearance brings a new atmosphere, namely the elegiac, even though he occupies only about one page of the text. It is Kongkong daoren, acting on the recommendation of another character, who finds Cao Xueqin. At that time, he is at the Nostalgia Studio, reading, commenting, and collating ancient histories. The name of the studio reinforces the elegiac atmosphere. He tells Kongkong daoren to discard his "high seriousness" about this novel; he awakens Brother Amor to the absurdity of the whole affair. It seems that his is the most balanced view. Considered in this way, the novel is about reading as well as about writing: reading of both life and the text, and writing about this reading. Reading, recording, and transcribing do change the lives of the characters, and they are converted in this way. In the cases of Baoyu, the Stone, and Kongkong daoren, the ways they read life and text reflect and mimic each other: Baoyu wins salvation by direct experience, the Stone wins his by a vicarious experience, and Kongkong daoren wins his by reading the Stone's record. In the process, they all write themselves into this book. The book becomes the Stone's autobiography and, at another remove, Kongkong daoren's. The book as we have it is a transcription of a transcription of a transcription: a set of Chinese boxes. All those involved are writing and reading the same book, an archetypal recurrence. In a way, all are raises en abyme, dreamers in the same dream. As a result, the book presupposes an intrinsic interaction between text and readers. Borges, in "Partial Magic in the Quixote,'''' writes: Why does it disturb us that thousand and one nights [be included] in the book of the Thousand

and One Nights?

Why does it disturb us that Don Quixote be

a reader of the Quixote and Hamlet a spectator ofHamlet?

I believe I have found

the reason: these inversions suggest that if the characters of a fictional work can be readers or spectators, we, its readers or spectators, can be fictitious.126

Then what about the protagonist of Honglou meng reading the text of Honglou meng and the reading of the same by other characters? If we consider the Qing novel in light of Borges' statement, we can say that the book's many mise en abyme motifs, which are of structuring principles, further testify to the book's potentiality—it may lead us to question the reality we tend to take for granted, the illusory nature of all appearances, and even the nature of our selves.

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Thus, we do read and write ourselves into this book, and the book might as well be our stories, too, our autobiographies. T w o episodes are relevant here: one from Huineng's (638-713) biography, 127 the other from Xiyou bu. In the former, Huineng witnessed a debate. Monks saw a flag waving in the wind. One argued that it was the wind fluctuating, while another argued that it was the flag. Huineng's rejoinder ended the argument: it was neither the flag nor the wind; what fluctuated was the very mind/heart of the spectators. In the latter, there is an episode to similar effect. Sun Wukong and Tripitaka, seeing peonies in full bloom, argue about what is red. T h e verse the priest recites is as follows: " T h e peonies are not red; / T h e disciple's heart is red" (XTB 1.2; TMM 25). Concerning the writings and readings of Honglou meng, especially concerning us as readers of the work, a logical and relevant question is posed: whose story is this? Baoyu's, the Stone's, Kongkong daoren's, or ours? While we are reading, do we not read ourselves into the book? Then who is the author of the book, and who the reader? Upon this issue, a quote from a Qing critic, Xu Ying, will be of some help. Xu wrote, "Someone asked me: 'Who is the author of Honglou meng?' I answered, 'I am.' He asked, 'How so?' I answered, 'Because every word has been gleaned from my mind/heart'" {HLMJ 1:142). If the characters are dreamers dreaming, if Honglou meng is a dream in itself, then what about us? Are we not also in the dream? Zhiyanzhai, the consummate commentator, one who is so well integrated with the book that he has become almost another character, or one of its authors, has this to say: Of this sizable book, the beginning is a dream [referring to Zhen Shiyin's dream], Baoyu's passion is a dream [chap. 5], Jia Rui's lust is a dream, Qin [Keqing] 's planning for the family is a dream . . . —hence the Dream of the Red Chamber. It is in a dream that I am commenting on the text. It is for those dreamers that I am dreaming this great dream.128 {ZYZ 48.601) Erzhi daoren expressed the same: "I am moved by [Cao] Xueqin's book that I read. I am therefore dreaming the same dream that Xueqin dreamed; I am a person in that dream. I cannot differentiate dreaming from not-dreaming" ( H L M J 1:84). This forms an interesting parallel with certain celebrated passages in both Zhuangzi and Liezi, passages that can put these comments and Honglou meng's mise en abyme structure into a more meaningful perspective than is otherwise possible. Here we emphasize these passages because of their common ground: different characters as dreamers within a greater dream. Zhiyanzhai regards his

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writing of the commentary as dreaming. However, the last sentence is ambiguous, perhaps deliberately so: does the term "those dreamers" refer to the characters in Honglou meng, or does it refer to its readers? We are all dreamers within a dream, and this narrative structure is integrated with that central theme of the novel. Thus, the ever-widening wave spreads, vibrates, reverberates, withJia Baoyu in the center, with the Stone, Kongkong daoren, Cao Xueqin, other characters—the pair of Zhen Shiyin and Jia Yucun 129 — the commentator Zhiyanzhai, and the readers of the novel being different circles, at several removes from the center. The characters and readers form concentric rings or circles around Jia Baoyu and his experiences in the human realm.130 The duplications and regresses of mise en abyme on this level are repeated ad infinitum. 13 ' In other words, Baoyu's existence expands and works upon others. This explains, at least partly, the empathy felt by the commentators and other readers for the characters and events in the novel, going so far as to declare that they have actually experienced such. 132 With this, another layer of meaning, pointing in another direction, is conveyed. In chapter 1 the author is concerned about whether the reader will be able to understand him. According to Buddhism, passion, desire, love—all these betoken blind attachment arising from ignorance. The author of the novel is indeed one beclouded by this ignorance—an inveterate, consummate one. Can anyone understand him—that is, forgive and condone him with understanding and sympathy (Douyun zuozhe chi, shuijie qizhong wet) ? He doubts, it seems, whether the readers are as prone to this folly as he is. The last chapter suggests that the reader and the author share the same dream or are even within the same dream (youlai tongyi meng, xiu xiao shiren chi). Since time immemorial, all humans have found themselves in a state of ignorance, and since we all share this attribute, we all understand him, even identify with him. 133 He implores the reader not to make light of this folly. Thus, the reader and the author share one epithet, the all-suggestive chi—ignorance, blind attachment, folly (mudha or moha)—because it is the price of being human. This is his understanding of the human condition. With this understanding of chi, a book of enlightenment is converted into a paean on passion, on the all-significant chi. A promised condemnation and negation of qing—desire, passion, love, and attachment—has become an elegy to it. The emphasis on detachment accentuates the value of attachment, which is allowed in Buddhism. This informs what the Stone has learned or what enlightenment means in this book. In a way, the book's pervasive color symbolism drives home the point, in the contrast between white, the color of liberating nothingness,

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and red, the color of passion, desire, attachment. When Baoyu last appears, he wears a red cape against the background of snow. If anything, the color red is not obliterated by the enshrouding whiteness; it is, rather, intensified by the contrast. Cao Xueqin's studio is called, significantly, Daohong xuan.134 Thus, on another level, the culmination of this subgenre includes its subversion, which is also based on Chinese Mahayana Buddhism, for it is this folly that makes us human, and it is this folly that assures our enlightenment and liberation. Indeed, this inherently negative epithet has become an unambiguously positive one. Cao Xueqin's greatness thus lies in the understanding and affirmation of what is human, in particular its attribute, chi.

Epilogue

"None can usurp this height," return'd that shade, "But those to whom the miseries of the world Are misery, and will not let them rest."

r

—Keats, The Fall of Hyperion: A Dream, 1:147-149

he time has come to deduce some common denominators among the novels we have discussed. T h e theme, structure, and mode of expression of these works all demonstrate the impact of Buddhist epistemic-soteriological

models. There are even many undeniable traces of Buddha or other religious figures from the scriptures. Tripitaka clearly recapitulates the quests of Sadaprarudita and Sudhana, and Jia Baoyu, living in the garden and caught up in the conflict between social obligation and religious aspiration, in his way reenacts Buddha's own struggles. Central to this subgenre is the progress toward enlightenment, in which the end and the means, however, cannot be clearly demarcated, given the basic Chinese Mahayana assumptions. In these works the end might be similar, but each individual's path toward the final goal is unique. All these works are built on the understanding of the intricate relationship between samsara—the provisional—and nirvana—the ultimate, a result of the valorization of the phenomenal, the conventional, and the provisional. These works imply that one cannot achieve enlightenment without going through all that is called life, that the innocence at the Flower-Fruit Mountain, the innocence of the Stone, have to be transcended, and that the human existential experiences—the rujia—elating as well as heartbreaking, are a prerequisite of enlightenment. T h e central stages of these novels move nearer and nearer to the human realm. Given the epistemological dimensions of

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Buddhist soteriology, all these works depend heavily upon self-reflexive devices. O n the one hand, their plots lay bare the psychological conditionings of the protagonists; all the novels discussed boil down essentially to inward experiences. O n the other hand, analytical psychology was then an alien thing among traditional Chinese novelists, but they tackled their burning concerns with an inventiveness that suggests sophisticated modern techniques—in particular, the use of oneiric experiences, mirroring, and doubling devices, which attain self-reflexive proportions. All these works take the human condition into consideration and can all be interpreted as representing the quest of Everyman. Since the means toward enlightenment is important, what matters is not the end itself but how the characters finally achieve it—via the protracted and tortuous route. This, constituting the bulk—and core—of these novels, has gripped readers' attention for centuries. In chapter 22 of Honglou meng, Jia Baoyu writes a gatha to register his frustration with what is going on around him—he is constantly being misjudged and misunderstood. T h e commentator Zhiyanzhai noted his fear that if Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu did gain enlightenment at that moment, there would not be much to read about: the story would have to come to an abrupt end. I am afraid that if Daiyu and Baoyu were really enlightened, there would be no good tale to read. T o my surprise, not only does Daiyu overlook the gravity of Baoyu's gatha, but she says, "[It's] nothing of any consequence." . . . I am afraid that when two of them are enlightened there will be no good stories to read. Nevertheless, how unfair I am, to wish them to be mired in the Ford of the Deluded and engender all sorts of maras, just for my personal entertainment! (ZYZ 22.418) Zhiyanzhai's confession is extremely revealing, but he neglects one issue. It is exacdy this process—the gradual, existential, and personal experience—that leads one to enlightenment. Moreover, the means and end are one and the same, and sarnsara is part of this process. T h e commentator certainly knows that enlightenment evolves from experience; here, however, he is just being humorous, as is often the case with him. But this formulation unveils a very important truth about these works. Bantly, in an essay on Xiyouji, asks this question: " C a n we say that, because the Journey gives form to the content of Buddhist teachings, it is itself a religious text?'" Her answer is a positive one, to which a host of traditional commentaries, although of uneven quality, as they always are, lend support. But can we say this of Honglou meng? My answer is a tentative yes. 2 Even if we exclude all other consid-

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erations, the self-reflexive, especially the mise en abyme structures there, which require an intrinsic interaction between the reader and the text, enhance this interpretation, for "the mise en abyme, or internal duplication, may behave as a 'clue' which the reader can first recognize as such and then use as a key for understanding the entire work in which it is contained." 3 As the author is explicit on the metafictional level of discourse, readers of the Honglou meng text have in various ways gained enlightenment through the reading, however defined. T h e same is true of Xiyou bu. These works can be considered as "secular scriptures," a point that has become quite clear after our discussion of individual works. This again justifies our study of these works together as a subgenre. T h e above considerations may also help us better understand works like Yang Erzeng's (seventeenth-century) Hanxiangzi

zhuan (Biography of Han-

xiangzi, 1623) and Li Baichuan's (ca. 1719-1771) Liiye xianzong (Tracks of an immortal in the mundane world; completed ca. 1762),4 although their thematic concerns are salvations of a Taoist nature. (Even in Honglou meng there are important characters, like Zhen Shiyin and Liu Xianglian, who achieve Taoist salvation.) Nevertheless, the patterns discussed in this book find their way into these novels. For instance, in chapters 65-70 of Liiye xianzong, the character Wen Ruyu dreams of leading a life of supreme bliss and wakes up from the dream, a measure designed by Leng Yubing to deliver him from this world. In chapters 93-98, Leng Yubing's four disciples enter a huge mirror and have a series of adventures that are manifestations of their minds. W e also need to move back in time and consider the erotic fiction (yanqing xiaoshuo),5 for example, Lii Tiancheng's (1550-1618) Xiutayeshi (Unofficial history of the embroidered couch, 1602?); Chipozi zhuan (Biography of a foolish woman, late Ming); 6 Wugang zhuren's Kongkonghuan (Empty delusion); and Li Yu's (1611-1680) Rou putuan (Carnal prayer mat, 1657).7 T h e bulk of these novels are a display of the sexual exploits of the protagonists, emphasizing not so much character as sexual stamina. Toward the end of these works, the principal characters renounce their practice and enter either the Buddhist or the Taoist fold. T h e y realize that such an existence is illusory and finally awaken from the dream. T h e entire Kongkong huan is set as a dream. This novel of sixteen chapters, which has few of the graphic descriptions that characterize this type of work, falls into two contrasting parts structurally: the protagonist Hua Chun's philandering in the first eight chapters and the dire consequences in the last eight chapters. He even defies fate and builds a garden that suggests the labyrinthine tower of the Sui emperor Yangdi (he is self-consciously imitating the decadent ruler).

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The underlying moral is that a licentious life teaches the protagonist the emptiness of such an existence. But apart from the gesture at the end of the books, we do not see in these works anything to do with enlightenment. Rather, they make a mockery of enlightenment. 8 Generally lacking tragic height and intensity, they, furthermore, do not possess the degree of seriousness that characterizes Honglou meng. In short, this model is used to condone the wild debauches, the very opposite of the religious values they profess. I would hesitate to classify such works as fictions of enlightenment, based on what they show rather than what they tell. Nevertheless, they do utilize a model of Buddhist salvation. This reveals the precariousness inherent in the model in theory and literature as well as in real life. The Western theory of the fortunate fall, discussed in Chapter l, again offers a good point of comparison. In view of its manifestation in Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Marble Faun and the character Miriam's view of sin as educational, critics are concerned that this theory may be encouraging sin.9 This misgiving is particularly relevant to our discussions of the Chinese novels. If the variation of the Buddhist model of salvation is analogous to the fortunate fall, does it follow that one should seek sensual gratification so as to gain enlightenment? Since antinomianism is common in Buddhist community, particularly in China (here we have to consider the concept offangbian), and there are many iconoclastic figures to emulate, should one deliberately participate in sensual gratification? The religious thinkers who have valorized the phenomenal world understand the dilemma acutely,10 and their elaborations in terms of religious discipline can be regarded as a criticism of this type of novel. The rationale of works like Rou putuan is to use desire to put a stop to desire, to induce delusion in order to bring about enlightenment.11 The novelists justify the elaborately graphic portrayals on the pretext of the final enunciation—but unconvincingly. Nevertheless, we should not take lightly the preponderance of transcendental figures at the end of these novels and the deep fear of sensuality. At least it shows the novelists' oscillation between desire (by extension, samsara) and its renunciation or transcendence (nirvana). This is true of Jin PingMei, too, particularly the Zhang Zhupo commentary edition. I could end the study in this way, were I unequivocal. Instead, in the concluding section of this project, I would like to return to the issue of interpretation, in particular interpretation of the three texts. However, interpretation is closely related to writing, which in turn is inseparable from life—from both the author's and the reader's vision of life. Consider these paradigmatic situations. Toward the end of his China and the Searchfor Happiness, Wolfgang Bauer

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169

contrasts two episodes representing, in his opinion, the differing ideas about human endeavor in China and the West. The first is about Alexander the Great, who embarked upon his well-known expedition to Asia in 333 B.C. On the threshold of that vast continent, he was confronted with the Gordian knot, which, like the Sphinx, presented a riddle. Whoever untied it could be the ruler of Asia. The monarch simply cut it with his sword. This may be regarded as a typical Western response to challenge. In the Chinese tradition there is a story concerning a similar situation, but with a different orientation that represents another model: A man from Lu gave King Yuan of Song a knot for a present. T h e king issued an order to all the country that skillful people should gather to untie it. But no one succeeded. A disciple of the rhetorician Er Shuo requested permission to try. But he succeeded only in untying one half, and could do nothing with the other. He said: "It is not that this knot can be untied, and that only I am unable to do so. T h e knot cannot be untied." T h e man from Lu who had given the knot was asked about this, and he said: "It is true that it cannot be untied. I tied it myself and therefore know that it cannot be done. But a person who did not make and yet know that it cannot be untied must be even more skillful than I." Thus Er Shuo's disciple untied the knot by not untying it.12

The second story seems to be more philosophical: there is simply no way to untie the knot. The wisest Chinese opt for "untying it without untying." Bauer seems to have taken this story to be an embodiment of the Chinese way. However, there is a Zhanguo ce story resembling Alexander's, too. King Zhao of Qin once sent an envoy to present the queen with linked rings of carvedjade and instructed the man: " Q i is very clever; see if she is able to separate [jie] these jade rings." T h e queen showed them to her ministers and none could separate them. She took a mallet and broke the links. Then she dismissed the Qin envoy saying, "Tell his majesty I have separated [jie] them.'"''

In these stories, the knot may be interpreted as representing complexities and mysteries, life's challenges. In the last story, the queen's dramatic method is exacdy like Alexander's. Still, neither cutting the knot with a sword nor breaking the rings with a mallet is unraveling, untying, or resolving in the conventional sense. In a way, these measures amount to admission of defeat as soon as they are taken: those involved cannot untie or unravel the knot, and so by extension are unable to

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resolve the issues. All these stories seem to confirm one point: the knot cannot be untied. Thus, the two approaches are not very far apart from each other. This point has an added poignancy in the Chinese language, given the homophones of jie (untie) and jie (tie). By extension, jie also means to solve, to resolve, to unravel a mystery, a riddle, a puzzle. However, I emphasize this metaphor/simile here not only because it represents the human condition, but also because it encapsulates situations in writing and reading, in particular how authors conclude their works and how readers attempt to interpret them. This is where the events we have discussed have a bearing on the novels under discussion. The novels by these authors, with all their intriguing complexities and challenges, can be seen as the knots they have left us to untie, and interpretation can be troped as the unraveling process. How we approach the texts depends on our attitude toward hermeneutics. We can impose a theory on the texts, that is, to see how the texts fit our presuppositions and criteria. But this seems like cutting the knot with the sword. And we can acknowledge the inadequacy of hermeneutic attempts, especially with these texts, so well known for their recondition and profundity. These texts themselves have yet an added dimension: they do not present a consistent worldview, nor even a consistent point of view—features that work against the generic assumptions of the novel in the West. As we have pointed out, these works resemble Western romances more than the novel. Another point that we should consider is that it sometimes seems as if the authors have not untied their own knots: they just have the protagonist leave the family— and hence this world in the Chinese context—as is the case in Honglou meng. This is how the final denouement is brought about, how life's problems and dilemmas are resolved. In other words, and in extreme cases, the meaning does not lie in unraveling all the knots but in leaving them as they are. Here jie means by implication to be liberated (jietuo), to extricate oneself from the entanglements of life. This particular mode of closure in Honglou meng may have contributed to its "incompleteness." We can almost say that the author cannot resolve all the issues in that novel. Thus, Jia Baoyu's taking of the Buddhist tonsure has another significance. Not only is it an imperative of this subgenre, but it is also a practical way of resolving the conflicts in the plot. The author's vision of life, with all its sublimity and squalor, unfolds before us. The author of Honglou meng, it seems, does not try to untie all the knots; rather, he only unravels some of them. Likewise does the author of Xiyou ji conclude the plot of that novel; the "weary trek'"4 comes to an end—anticlimactically, in the opinion of some critics.15 In both works, the complexity of the theme and plot defies a strictly unilinear presenta-

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171

tion, but the religious assumptions behind them presuppose a telos, and the art form the authors work with requires a denouement. Having considered some of the complexities involved, I must say something about my own unraveling (jie) of the issues. Certainly I have to untie the knots presented by these authors; it would not do simply to appreciate the works without critical involvement. However, all these works resist interpretation in various degrees, hence their resilience, their perennial "newness" as literary works. T h e problem is, no approach can claim that it has dealt with every aspect of the texts, not least because these books aim to be comprehensive and all-inclusive: many views contend for attention, and different structuring principles are applied. And there should be many valid, plausible readings. I have tried to untie as many knots as I can, but meanwhile I acknowledge the complexity—as is also the case of life— this project involves and entails. That is, I attempt to untie the knots, while at the same time bearing in mind the near impossibility of this task and the unfeasibility of using a "sword" or other inappropriate critical tool.

Notes

PROLOGUE

1. T h e novel Xiyouji was in its final form attributed to W u Cheng'en (ca. 1500-ca. 1582). Xiyou bu, ca. 1640 by Dong Yue (1620-1686), appeared in the form of a supplement to Xiyouji. Honglou mengby Cao Xueqin (1715-1763?), also known as Shitouji (The story of the stone), was circulated in manuscripts and published in 1791 under Gao E's (ca. 1738-ca. 1815) editorship. This book will not add to the already sophisticated discussions about the authorship of these works. I will, however, discuss some issues when I address individual works. 2. Anthony C . Y u , " T h e Quest of Brother Amor: Buddhist Intimations in The Story of the Stone,'''' 77-78. Y u writes, "Is Hongloumeng

a grand parable of Buddhist

quest and enlightenment? In view of the experience of its male protagonist and many of the other characters, three of the four titles supposedly given to their story (Tale of Brother Amor, A Bejeweled Mirror of Romance, and Dream of the Red Chamber), and the vast and vibrant network of echoes and allusions to Buddhist theme and rhetoric, it is virtually impossible not to consider seriously an affirmative answer to such a question." See also Y u ' s recent Rereading the Stone, 122: "Buddhist conceptualises . . . not merely facilitate the construction of its plot and characters but also modulate and enhance the narrative's reflexive adumbration of its own

fictionality"—one

of the novel's defining

features. T h e extent of Buddhist impact, however, is an issue too complicated to address unequivocally; see the same book, e.g., 141. 3. "Intertextuality," a term coined in the 1960s, has been since rigorously appropriated and revised by theoreticians and practical critics alike, thereby becoming one of the key concepts in literary studies. T h e term evokes diverse connotations and suggests different approaches. As a scholar who has contributed much to its study puts it, "Currently, 'intertextuality' is a fashionable term, but almost everybody who uses it understands it somewhat differently. A host of publications has not succeeded in changing this situation. O n the contrary: their increasing number has added to the confusion" (Plett, "Intertextualities," 3). In his The Poetics of Appropriation, 188, David Palumbo-Liu writes, " T h e term intertextuality is fraught with vagueness. For some theorists it refers to the citation of prior texts in a later

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174

literary work. T o others, it designates the evocation of certain subgeneric or generic discourses within the frame of another discourse. For still others, it refers to the imposition of one or more other semiotic systems on another. All these variants of intertextuality define a text as a particular composite of other texts and discourses." For a historical survey of the concept of intertextuality, see Clayton and Rothstein, "Figures in the Corpus," 3-3 6. 4. Cao Xueqin alluded to Xiyouji on many occasions. Moreover, his grandfather Cao Yin (1658-1712) might have had Huang Zhouxing (i6n?-i68i) and Dong Yue as friends. See Zhou Cezong (Chow Tse-tsung), "Honglou meng yu Xiyou bu," 135-142. Huang is the editor and commentator of an important edition of Xiyouji tided Xiyou zhengdao shu. For Huang's life, see the introduction to this edition by Huang Yongnian, 1-46. The zhengdao shu edition was finished, according to Huang Yongnian, around 1664-1665. Huang Zhouxing's edition is the prototype and basis of the majority of important Qing editions (Huang Yongnian, 31). Huang and Dong were friends and confidants: Huang Zhouxing (styled Jiuyan) was the only person Dong would engage in in-depth conversation (from Dong's works, this account seems to be an exaggerated one); see, for instance, Zhijiang Baoyangsheng, Jiashen chaoshi xiaoji (1830 ms.), and Wuchengxian zhi, in Zhu Yixuan and Liu Yuchen, eds., Xiyouji ziliao huibian, 318 and 323. See also Feng Baoshan, "Dong Yue jiaoyou kao," esp. 53-54. 5. For an important paper applying the theory of intertextuality to the study of the Qing masterpiece, see Gao Xinyong (Karl S. Y. Kao), "Cong 'wenji guanxi' kan Honglou meng.'''' He concentrates on Cao Xueqin's use of dramatic works. Zhou Ruchang notes, albeit in passing, the relationship between Honglou meng and other works; see his Honglou mengyu Zhonghua wenhua, 237-247. He has modified his previous views about the masterwork's debt to other works, e.g., his earlier Honglou mengxinzheng. More on this later. 6. This translation is Jing Wang's: The Story ofStone, 95. Cf. Plaks' translation: "The Honglou meng grows out of the Xiyouji, takes a trail blazed by the Jin PingMei, and takes its spirit from the Shuihu zhuan." See Rolston, ed., How to Read the Chinese Novel, 327. 7. Critics have noted the affinity between Sun Wukong and Jia Baoyu. Zhu Tong, in "Cong yuan dao ren," concentrates on the "rebellion" of the two protagonists; his comments are often too politically charged. The same is true of Zhangjinchi's discussion in Xiyouji kaolun, 147-154. The most appropriate comments are perhaps by Zhang Xinzhi; more later. 8. Wang's study concentrates on the intertextual relationship between the stone symbolism in the works in question, and Mary Elizabeth Scott, in her dissertation "Azure from Indigo," deals with Honglou meng's ironic transformation ofJin PingMei. 9. Anthony C.Yu, Rereading the Stone, 135, n. 32. 10. Frye, Secular Scripture.

C H A P T E R 1: SETTING THE T E R M S

1. See Plaks, The Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 497-512. 2. Plaks, "After the Fall," 547. 3. Cf. C. T . Hsia, "The Scholar-Novelist and Chinese Culture," 281.

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4. See Anthony C . Y u , "Religion and Literature in China," 109-154, in which he elaborates on the pervasive religious elements in traditional Chinese literature, in particular the Ming masterwork, Xiyouji. 5. Y i p , Diffusion of Distances, 20. 6. Liao Chaoyang, " F a k u a j i n g de yuedu lun," 92. 7. Mair, " T h e Narrative Revolution in Chinese Literature." 8. Chase, The American Novel and Its Tradition,

1.

9. For the fluctuation between the two motifs within Chinese culture, see Chen Weizhao, Lunhuiyu

guizhen, and G u o Yingde, Chiqingyu

huanmeng.

10. Hegel, "Unpredictability and Meaning in Ming-Qing Literati Novels," 150. Cf. Zhu Xi, " D a C h e n Tongfii shu": "In the past one thousand and five hundred y e a r s , . . . the W a y preached by Y a o , Shun, T h r e e Emperors, Duke of Zhou, and Confucius has not prevailed for even one day in the world." Quoted in C h e n g Qiong, Cong Honglou mengkan Zhongguo wenhua, 141; see also 135-142. 11. T h e poem reads: " O n and on the Great River rolls, racing east. / O f proud and gallant heroes its white-tops leave no trace. / A s right and wrong, pride and fall turn all at once unreal. / Y e t ever the green hills stay / T o blaze in the west-waning day." See Luo Guanzhong, Three Kingdoms, 3. T h e poem is by Y a n g Shen (1488-1559); it is not about the T h r e e Kingdoms period, but serves as a "preface" to his synopsis of the history of the Qin and Han in rhymes. See Yang Shen ci-quji, 293. Cf. H o n g Sheng's (1645-1704) Changsheng dian (finalized in 1688). See also Li Zehou, Mei de licheng. 12. Martin Huang, "Karmic Retribution and the Didactic Dilemma in the Xingshi yinyuan zhuan," 400-401. 13. For D o n g Yue's life and a study of his work, see Hegel, The Novel in SeventeenthCentury China, 141-166. Dong, apart from his penchant for Buddhist sutras, finally became a monk. See also Fu Shiyi, Xiyou bu chutan; and Brandauer, Tung Yiieh. 14. Quoted in Chen Yuan, Zhongguo Fojiao shiji gailun, 61. 15. For a study of this figure, see Strong, " T h e Legend of the Lion-Roarer." 16. T u Long, Tanhuaji,

in Mao Jin (1599-1659), Liushizhong qu, 11:164,167.

17. For the historical and religious background of this revival, see, among others, Hsu Sung-peng, A Buddhist Leader in Ming China, 11-58; Chun-fang Y u , The Renewal of Buddhism in China; Shengyan, Mingmo Fojiao yanjiu; G u o Peng, Ming-Qing

Fojiao.

For an excellent study on the relationship between politics and Buddhism in late Ming as well as the general religious atmosphere, see Chen Yuan, Mingji Dian-Qian

Fojiao kao.

G e Zhaoguang, in Chanzongyu Zhongguo wenhua, argues that the liberalism and heresy in late imperial China originated, to a great extent, from the boldness of Zen thoughts and practices. Araki Kengo, in "Confucianism and Buddhism in the Late Ming," traces the relationship between the upsurge of Buddhism and Wang Yangming's philosophy of mind (xinxue) and discusses, among other things, the diversity and entrenchment in the everyday world of the late Ming reincarnation of Buddhism; he argues that, "given the differences in the historical circumstances and the spiritual needs of the time, it is probably pointless to adjudge the Buddhist movements of this period as inferior to those in the Sui, T a n g , and Song periods" (56); Timothy Brook, in Praying for Power, contends that the

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practice of Buddhism on the part of the gentry is a means of negotiating power with the state apparatus, aiming at a degree of independence and autonomy. For a brief discussion of the Buddhist inclinations among Manchu aristocrats and literati, see Zhang Juling, Qingdai Manzu zuojia wenxue gailun, 80-83. F ° r discussions about the influence of Buddhism (as well as other religions) on Chinese drama, see Zhou Yude, Zkongguo xiqu yu Zkongguo zongjiao; Zheng Chuanyin, Chuantong wenhua yu gudian xiqu, 189-343; Yao Wenfang, Zkongguo xiju meixue de wenhua chanshi, 175-189; and Zheng Peikai, TangXianzuyu wan-Mingwenhua. Also relevant is Li Xiangping, Jiushiyujiuxin. 18. Huang Zhuoyue, Fojiaoyu wan-Ming wenxue sichao. 19. Ibid., 51. 20. See Cao Yin's catalogue ofhis collection, Liantingshumu, GuoliBeipingtushuguan guankan 5.1 (January-February I93i):78. Since the library was not among the property confiscated in the Cao family catastrophe, as Scott has noted ("Azure from Indigo," 41), Cao Xueqin might have perused some of these sütras. 21. Liang Qichao, "Fanyi wenxue yu Fodian," 381. 22. Lu Xun reacted to the traditional interpretation ofXiyouji in terms of the "three teachings" (sanjiao): "These critics argued that the book dealt with Confucian, Taoist or Buddhist philosophy, delving into its hidden meaning in detail and at great length. Actually, although Wu Cheng'en was a Confucian scholar, he wrote this book for entertainment. Its theme was not Taoist either, for the whole novel contains a few casual references only to the five elements; and the author was clearly no Buddhist, for the last chapter has some fantastic and utterly fanciful names of Buddhist sütras." Lu Hsun, A Brief History of Chinese Fiction, 217; Lu Xun, Zkongguo xiaoshuo shilüe, 115. 23. Araki Kengo, "Confucianism and Buddhism in the Late Ming," 55. 24. Liu Ts'un-yan, Buddhist and Taoist Influences on Chinese Novels, vol. 1, The Authorship of Feng Shen Yen 1,165. 25. HLM 19.272. This has led many critics to the conclusion that Honglou meng is an antireligious book. See, for instance, Zhang Jinchi, "Lun Honglou meng de fan shenxue sixiang." 26. See his "Lun Honglou meng de beiju he Cao Xueqin de beiju sixiang," 351. Deng Yunxiang, in Ming-Qing xiaoshuo jianshang cidian, wonders whether the adage "a good beginning is half success" could be applied to Cao Xueqin's work, implying that Cao's beginning leaves room for improvement. The critic has the frame story in mind: "General readers of Honglou meng only remember the protracted and moving love between Baoyu and Daiyu, and the splendors of the Ronguo and Ningguo Mansions. All wish it to be true; who ever thinks that it is all a dream?" (671) This is perhaps the very opposite of what Cao Xueqin might have meant. 27. See his Honglou meng bian, 303. 28. Chen Zhao, "Zhen Baoyu—Cao Xueqin de baibi." 29. Anthony C. Yu, "The Quest of Brother Amor," 56-57. Yu, in his Rereading the Stone, again offers many stimulating discussions about the novel's Buddhist intimations. As far as I know, there are two works in Chinese dealing in different ways with the relationship between Honglou meng and Buddhism: Yuanxiang, Honglou mengyu Chan;

177

N O T E S TO PAGES 1 3 - 1 6

and Zhang Bilai, Honglou Foying. However, the former is the work of a Buddhist nun, who, applying the doctrines of the Consciousness-Only school (weishi), regards the whole novel as nothing less than an exposition of the Buddhist mind—the characters represent different aspects of the human consciousness. T h e latter work pays more attention to the impact of the religion on the Qing literati class: more a study on the sociocultural background than one that focuses on its literary aspects. Hu Deping, in Sanjiao heliu deXiangshan shijie, concentrates on the cultural milieu west of Beijing, where the three teachings in traditional China converged, but his conclusion is that Honglou meng is an anti-Buddhist work (as well as anti-Taoist and anti-Confucian). However, Du Jinghua's article, "Honglou meng yu Chanzong," is a remarkable exception. Du goes so far as to suggest that the twelve major female characters (shi'er chai) symbolize the twelvefold process of conditioning (shi'er yinyuan). Also relevant is Chen Hong, Fojiao yu Zhongguo gudian wenxue, 152-157,170-174. 30. Hawkes, "The Story of the Stone: A Symbolist Novel," 8. 31. Bantly, "Buddhist Allegory in the Journey to the West," 513. See also her "Buddhist Philosophy in the Art of Fiction" and Embracing

Illusion.

32. Anthony C . Y u , trans., The Journey to the West, 1:33. 33. Hawkes, "The Story of the Stone: A Symbolist Novel," 8. In this article Hawkes remarked, in reaction to the emphasis on biographical and historical considerations of the work, that though the scholars "often throw new light on its structure," the practice "nevertheless runs the risk of neglecting its philosophical inspiration" (10). Toward the end of the essay, he elaborates on the name of the Jia family garden, Daguan, which has Buddhist connotations; he particularly mentions the Tiantai sect. Further, he writes, " W e know the author intended to end his novel with Baoyu becoming a monk. W e can therefore form an idea of the novel's central theme. It is a tale about a gifted and sensitive young man who, through contemplation of the twelve registers of the passions, represented by the twelve categories of female characters in the Registers of Beauty, and through the experience of disillusionment, attains a state of mystic contemplation and of liberating peace" (17). 34. Plaks has commented on the lack of a consistent Buddhist approach to Honglou meng on the part of traditional commentators prior to Wang Guowei's insightful essay; see Pu Andi (Plaks), Honglou mengpiyupianquan, in Xiyouji

xli-xlii. For the same phenomenon

scholarship, I am indebted to one anonymous reader for the University of

Hawai'i Press. His/her remarks have sharpened my understanding on this subject. 35. Miller, Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 12-13. 36. Blackall, The Novels of the German Romantics, 17. 37. Ibid., 17. 38. Ibid. 39. See, among others, Abrams, Natural Supernaturalism, 207-209. "In the succinct version of this paradox voiced by Adam in Paradise Lost, not only was his fall the essential condition of the Incarnation, thus of the demonstration of God's abounding grace, but also of the eventual recovery by the elect of a paradise which will be a great improvement upon the paradise which Adam has lost" (208). Abrams also quotes "Schiller's secular ver-

i78

N O T E S TO P A G E S 1 6 - 1 8

sion of the fortunate fall": "This f a l l . . . of man from instinct—which to be sure brought moral evil into the creation, but only in order to make moral good therein possible—is, without any contradiction, the most fortunate and greatest event in the history of mankind" (208-209). Regarding the manifestation o f f e l i x culpa in Hawthorne's book, Milton R. Stern writes, "At least since F. O. Matthiessen's American Renaissance, there has been little disagreement about the general theme of the book, the felix culpa.... All readers agree that the central idea is one in which Donatello's development shows that suprahistorical innocence is magically beautiful but inevitably evanescent, and that the effects of sin can lead to an anguished but ennobling understanding of isolation from and community within the magnetic chain of humanity." See Stern's Contextfor Hawthorne, 106. 40. Hawthorne, The Marble Faun, 519. 41. Ibid., 27. 42. Ibid. 43. Ibid., 367,370. 44. Ibid., 433. 45. James, Hawthorne, 131. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid., 134. 48. See Plaks, "Allegory in Hsi-yu Chi and Hung-lou Mengn\ Xiaolian Liu, The Odyssey of the Buddhist Mind; I-Chun Wang, "Allegory and Allegoresis of the Cave." 49. Cf. Honig, Dark Conceit, 6-7: "At certain points in cultural development allegory is an indispensable instrument of thought and belief. Essentially part of the impulse Aristode calls metaphysical,... allegory reveals a fundamental way of thinking about man and the universe. Emerging from myth and ritual, the concept is first engaged in the earliest batde of the books fought over Hesiod and Homer. It constantly reappears thereafter on the borders between religion or philosophy and art, serving to frame significant questions about the nature of illusion and reality. Although often confounded with the theoretical occasion of its use, allegory is more than an accident in the history of ideas. It is a common, often most dramatic, means of articulating and diffusing ideas." 50. Here I am indebted to Hegel, "Unpredictability and Meaning in Ming-Qing Literati Novels." The "incompleteness" of the novel, David Hawkes suggests alternatively, results from Cao's attempt to incorporate different manuscripts: "What we have in these earlier chapters are the disecta membra of several different novels which no amount of editing can ever quite successfully reconcile one with another." See Hawkes' "The Translator, the Mirror and the Dream—Some Observations on a New Theory." Hawkes is dissatisfied with the then current state of Redology that regards the last forty chapters as inauthentic, and takes a step further in his dealing with the irreconcilable details. However, we can perhaps say that the irreconcilabilities have yet further significance. 51. See, among others, Plaks, "Allegory in Hsi-yu Chi and Hung-lou Meng"\ and Pauline Yu, The Reading of Imagery in the Chinese Poetic Tradition. 52. Yip, Diffusion of Distances, 18.

NOTES TO PAGES 1 8 - 2 2

179

53. LaFleur, The Karma of Words, 87. 54. Eigner, The Metaphysical Novel in England and America. 55. Ibid., 2. 56. Ibid., 5. 57. Z h u Y i x u a n and Liu Y u c h e n , eds., Xiyouji

ziliao huibian,

219. T h e Ming critic

W u C o n g x i a n writes, echoing the current philosophical terms, " X i y o u j i is a b o o k that works u p o n one's nature" (1614; Z h u and Liu, eds., 210). Cf. also the term "zhengdao shu" (a b o o k about the realization of the T a o ) . 58. C o n z e , trans., Buddhist

Wisdom Books, 68. T h e Chinese version, however,

does not follow precisely the similes in Sanskrit. 59. See, among others, Swales, The German

Bildungsroman from

Hesse; Kontje, Private Lives in Public Sphere and The German

Wieland

to

Bildungsroman.

John Minford, translator of the last forty chapters of Honglou meng, calls the b o o k a Bildungsroman

and a "novel of enlightenment." See his "Zhangliu j i n F o yu yizhi gu-

fang,"3i7. 60. For further discussions, see, among others, O w e n , Traditional

Chinese Poetry

and Poetics, esp. 1 4 - 1 5 , 5 5 - 5 7 . 61. See A n t h o n y C . Y u ' s illuminating discussion of the novel's stance on

fictional-

ity, one of its defining features, in Rereading the Stone, chaps. 1 and 3.

C H A P T E R 2: SOTERIOLOGICAL PATTERNS, NARRATIVE STRUCTURES 1. L u X u n , Zkongguo xiaoshuo shilüe; L u H s u n , ^ Brief History of Chinese

Fiction.

2. See Plaks, Archetype and Allegory in Dream of the Red Chamber; Four

Master-

works of the Ming Novel; and " T o w a r d s a Critical T h e o r y of Chinese Narrative," 3 0 9 352, esp. sec. 4 , 3 2 9 - 3 3 9 , and sec. 5,339-3453. See, among others, C h e n Y i n q u e , " X i y o u j i Xuanzang dizi gushi zhi yanbian" (1930); T a i J i n g n o n g , "Fojiao gushi y u Z h o n g g u o xiaoshuo"; Liu Y i n b o ,

Xiyoujifawei,

esp. 91-110; Dudbridge, The Hsi-yu Chi: A Study of the Antecedents to the 16th Century Chinese Novel. T h i s aspect has attracted the attention of many scholars. Another study is Yongxiang, Fojiao wenxue dui Zhongguo xiaoshuo deyingxiang,

which also concentrates

on h o w certain Buddhist episodes and themes found their way into the Chinese vernacular novel. 4. See Mair's important study, " T h e Narrative Revolution in Chinese Literature" and his T'ang Transformation

Texts.

5. For representative articles, see his " C h a n h u i miezui Jinguangmingjing bao zhuan b a " and " D u n h u a n g ben Weimojiejing

ming-

Wenshushili wenji pin yanyi b a . " H e

is among the first Chinese scholars well trained in Indie scholarship to pioneer in the study of traditional vernacular narrative works. His efforts, though not systematic, offer insights that, it seems, have yet to receive the attention they merit. 6. C h e n Y i n q u e , " C h a n h u i miezui Jinguangmingjing," 7. C h e n Y i n q u e , " D u n h u a n g ben Weimojiejing,''''

257.

185. Also relevant are studies of

the Buddhist impact on Chinese poetry and culture; see, in particular, Ji Xianlin, Fojiao

i8o

N O T E S TO PAGES

22-28

yu Zhong-Yin wenh.ua jiaoliu; Jin Kemu, Yindu wenhua lunji; Chen Yunji, Gudian wenxue Fojiao suyuan shi lun and Tangyin Fojiao biansi lu; and Rao Zongyi, Fanxueji. 8. "Jingming" is the literal Chinese translation of Vimalakirti. 9. Prusek, "The Narrators of Buddhist Scriptures and Religious Tales in the Sung Period" (1938), 225. 10. Liang Qichao, "Fanyi wenxue yu Fodian," 381. 11. Other scholars who have studied the relationship between Buddhism and the Chinese novel include Xu Dishan, Hu Shi, Lu Xun, Zheng Zhenduo, Hu Huaichen, Xu Guo Licheng, Liu Bannong, Xiang Da, Dong Fan, Xie Lu, and Huo Shixiu. See Hu Congjing's summary in his Zhongguo xiaoshuo shixue shi changbian, 71-95. 12. See Grant, Mount Lu Revisited, 36-37, where she discusses the impact of Huayanjing's writing style on Su's poetry and prose. The disciples of Su Shi and Huang Tingjian suggested that in order to achieve an elegant style, one has to read Buddhist sutras. See, among others, Wei Daoru, Songdai chanzong wenhua, 49-51. According to Zhou Zuoren (1885-1967), Lu Xun's (Zhou Shuren) younger brother, China's greatest modern writer read such sutras for their stylistic virtuosity. See Zhou Zuoren sanwen, 3:327-328. Zhou Zuoren also quotes Liang's article, which briefly mentions the qualities of the sutras as literary works. 13. Cf. C. T . Hsia, "The Scholar-Novelist and Chinese Culture," 281. 14. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism, 156. 15. Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhism, 17. See also the introduction in Mahapadana Suttanta, in Dialogues of the Buddha Part 2, trans. T . W. and C. A. F. Rhys Davids, 1-3. 16. Cleary, trans., The Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:47; T279/lO:33lb. 17. Cook, Hua-yen Buddhism, 78. 18. Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhism, 15. For an English translation, see Samuel Beal, trans., Fo-sho-hing-tsan-king. For an English translation of the Sanskrit Buddhacarita, see Cowell, trans., The Buddha-karita of Asvaghosha. For the Chinese text, see T 192/4:1-54. For Buddha's life in English, see Hajime Nakamura, Buddhism in Comparative Light, and John Strong, The Buddha. 19. 1.18, 4 (numbers of pin or varga and gatha, followed by page number); T192/ 4:1b. Cf. Cowell, trans., 1,34 (book and line number[s]; same hereafter). 20. 1.96-104,16-17; Tig2/4:3a-b. Cf. Cowell, trans., I, 75-80. 21. 2.176,28; T 192/4:53. 22. 4.280-281,41-42; T 192/4:7^ Cf. Cowell, trans., IV, 53-54. 23. 6.478, 68; 7" 192/4:123. Cf. Cowell, trans., VI, 56-57. 24. 13-1036,147; T 192/4:253. 25. Section 13,147-156; 7*192/4:253-260. 26. 14.1112-1118,156-157 (modified); T 192/4:260-273. Cf. Cowell, trans., XIV, 1-9. 27. 14-1165,163; 7*192/4:283. 28. Karetzky, in her study, divides Buddha's life into Jataka, Nativity, Youth, Life in the Palace, Great Departure, Pre-Enlightenment, Enlightenment, Post Enlightenment, First Sermon, Conversions, Death. See her Life of Buddha. 29. Donner and Stevenson, trans., The Great Calming and Contemplation: A Study

N O T E S TO P A G E S 2 9 - 3 0

181

and Annotated Translation of the First Chapter of Chih-i's Mo-ho chih-kuan, 117. The quotation, however, is from Guanding's (561-632) preface to this classic. 30. T221/8:141-146. 31.

T224/8:470-477.

32. Lancaster, "The Story of a Buddhist Hero." In my summary I will refer to this article. For another source, see Dazhidu lun (Mahaprajna-paramita-sastra), chaps. 9 6 - 9 8 ; 7" 1 5 0 9 / 2 5 : 7 3 1 - 7 4 4 . 33. T224/8:4700.

34. Lancaster, "The Story of a Buddhist Hero," 84. 35. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism, 69. 36. There are three major Chinese translations of this sutra: by Buddhabhadra (Fotuobatuoluo, 359-429) of the Eastern Jin, 60 fascicles (7*278/9:395-788); by Siksananda (Shichanantuo, 652-710) of the Tang, 80 fascicles (7*279/10:1-444); and by Prajna (Bore, 734-?) of the Tang, 40 fascicles (7*293/10:661-851), the last being the translation of the last book of the sutra Rufajiepin (Gandavyuha). For an English translation of the sutra, see Cleary, trans., The Flower Ornament Scripture, 3 vols. In my quotations from this version I have changed the romanization of certain Sanskrit names and other terms into forms more commonly used in academic discourses. There are numerous studies and commentaries on this sutra in Chinese, the most important of which are included in Taisho shinshu Daizokyo, vols. 35-36. For the English translation of a selection of these studies, see Cleary, trans., Entry into the Inconceivable. For studies of this sutra and related works in English, see Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism; Ehman, "77te Gandavyuha"; for studies of Huayan Buddhism, see Garma Chang, The Buddhist Teaching of Totality; and Cook, Hua-yen Buddhism. 37. This is the theory of the Tiantai sect, an attempt to bring the numerous sutras into certain order: Buddha preached what is recorded in Huayan jing seven days after his enlightenment under the bodhi tree. Since few understood this sutra, famous for its profundity, Buddha preached what became the Hlnayana (the Lesser Vehicle) scriptures like Ahanjing (Agamasutra) for those whose understanding was not prepared for Mahayana (the Greater Vehicle) teachings. This stage lasted twelve years. After this, Buddha taught Mahayana scriptures, sutras like Weimo jing (Vimalakirti-nirdesasutra), Jinguangmingjing, and Lengqiejing (Lankavatara-sutra). This stage lasted for eight years and was regarded as the early stage of Mahayana teaching. After this, Buddha preached various Bore jing (Prajnaparamita-sutra), expounding the doctrine of sunyata. This stage lasted for twenty-two years. Finally, Buddha preached Niepan jing (Nirvana sutra, Mahaparinirvdna-sutra) and Fahua jing (Lotus sutra, Saddharmapundarika-sutra) in his last eight years, the consummation of his teachings. 38. The others are Jin'gangjing (Diamond sutra, Vajracchedika Prajnaparamitasutra); the apocryphal Lengyanjing (Suramgama sutra); Emituojing (Smaller Sukhavatlvyuha sutra); Xinjing (Heart sutra, Prajnaparamita-hrdaya-sutra)\Fahua jing; the apocryphal Yuanjuejing (Sutra of complete enlightenment); Sishi'erzkang jing (Sutra of forty-two sections); Yijiaojing (Sutra of Buddha's behest); Tan jing (The platform sutra); Wudeng huiyuan (The collated essentials of the five lamps); and Dacheng qixin

182 lun (The awakening of faith, Mah.ayana-Sraddhotpada-sa.stra). Fojiao yanjiu, 240.

N O T E S TO PAGES

30-35

See Shengyan, Mingmo

39. For a study of Li Tongxuan's place in East Asian Buddhism, see Gimello, "Li T'ung-hsiian and the Practical Dimension of Hua-yen." 40. Gimello, "Li T'ung-hsiian and the Practical Dimension of Hua-yen," 330. 41. XZJ 88:353b~400a. It is translated into English by Cleary, Entry into the Realm of Reality. I refer to this version because of the two Ming abridged versions, this is more systematic and comprehensive about Rufajie pin. 42. XZJ 7:i8ga-235b. Li Zhi's version contains only several pages about the thirtyninth book. 43. For a study of these works of art, see Fontein, The Pilgrimage of Sudhana. For examples of commentaries in verse accompanied with illustrations, see Chandra, ed., Sudhana's Way to Enlightenment; and Zheng Xiuxiong, Shancai wushisan can. 44. See, for instance, Sun Changwu, Zhongguo Fojiao wenhua xushuo, 179; Qian Zhonglian, "Fojiao yu Zhongguo gudai wenxue de guanxi," 193. For a discussion of the similarities between this sutra and Bunyan's work, see also Fontein, The Pilgrimage of Sudhana, 1. 45. Cf. such terms as "zhengum"and "zhengdao,"discussed in Chapter 3. 46. Li Tongxuan, 22-23; XZJ88:388a. 47. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:397-398.1 have replaced Cleary's translation of bodhisattvas—"enlightening beings"—with the term more commonly used; this will not be noted in subsequent text. The passage quoted can be found only in the translation of Prajna; see T 293/10:806. 48. Cleary, trans., Fhwer Ornament Scripture, 3:50; 7"279/io:332b. 49. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:46; 7*279/10:3310. 50. Called Juecheng in the 60-fascicle Huayan jing and Fushengcheng in the 40fascicle Huayan jing. 51. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:55; 7*279/io:322b. 52. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:55; Ti2g/io:322. 53. Li Tongxuan, 23 (modified); XZJ 88:388a. 54. Li Tongxuan, 23-24; XZJ 88:388a. 55. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:58; 7*279/10:3340. 56. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:59, 60; 7"279/10:335b. 57. Cleary, trans., Fhwer Ornament Scripture, 3:61; 7*279/10:3350-3363. 58. Li Tongxuan, 23; XZJ 88:388a. 59. I follow the reckoning widely accepted by Chinese Buddhists and the general populace, counting Manjusri once and Srisambhava and SrimatI as one, since Sudhana meets them at one place. An alternative counting is fifty-four or fifty-five teachers. 60. On his itinerary, according to Li Tongxuan's commentary, Sudhana meets three bodhisattvas, representing "three principles," and fifty spiritual benefactors, representing "five ranks of enlightenment." T o quote Li again, "Manjusri stands for knowledge of the fundamental (genbenzhi). Samantabhadra stands for knowledge of differentiation (chabiezhi), and Maitreya stands for the uncreate realization (wuzuo zhi guo) within

183

N O T E S TO PAGES 3 5 - 3 9

Manjusri and Samantabhadra." Further, "These three principles are all in the fifty spiritual friends—representing five ranks of enlightenment—that Sudhana meets on his pilgrimage, so there are fifty-three teachers." Yet there is another symbolic reckoning: "Since the fifty teachings of the spiritual friends each has cause and effect—as in other books of the Avatamsaka Sutra, where there are ten bodhisattvas and ten buddhas to represent cause and effect—this makes one hundred. A d d to this the basic ten ways of transcendence and this makes one hundred and ten, the number of the cities Sudhana is said to have passed through." Li Tongxuan, 23; XZJ 88:388a. 61. Cleary, trans., Flower Ornament Scripture, 3:350; T279/iO:428c. 62. T h e common opinion is the evolution of Buddhism from Theravada to Mahayana. However, it has been demonstrated that Mahayana doctrines "had grown around" Buddha's original teachings, rather than being reinvented or improved. See, among others, Kalupahana, The Principles of Buddhist Psychology. 63. Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhism, 97-98. 64. T h e Huayan School is "the highest development of Chinese Buddhist t h o u g h t . . . [which] with the philosophy of Tiantai, forms the metaphysical basis of Chinese Buddhism in the last millennium": Wing-tsit Chan, A Sourcebook in Chinese Philosophy, 406. Cf. Ng Yu-Kwan's summary of the philosopher Mou Zongsan's zealous appraisal of the two schools: "their founders were philosophical geniuses as great as Kant and Hegel and . . . their philosophizing reached the highest level that the human mind can ever achieve." N g Yu-Kwan, T'ien-t'ai Buddhism and Early Madhyamika, ix. 65. Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhism, 120. 66. Conze, Buddhist Wisdom Books, 81. 67. See, for example, She dacheng lun, 7*1593/31:129. 68. Cf. Tanjing:

"the very passions are themselves enlightenment (bodhi).'''' See

Yampolsky, trans., The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch, 148. T h e translator also mentions other places where the adage appears. 69. N g Yu-Kwan, T'ien-t'ai Buddhism and Early Madhyamika, 53. 70. Ibid., 44. 71. Ibid., 68. 72. Ibid., 126. 73. Ibid., 132; 215, n. 35. 74. Ibid., 132. 75. Ibid., 138. 76. Ibid., 155. 77. See Holcombe, In the Shadow of the Han, 124. 78. See Feng Dawen, Huigui ziran, 254-255. See also Chen Weizhao,

Lunhuiyu

guizhen, 135. 79. Li Tongxuan, 22 (with modifications); XZJ 88:386b. 80. Li Tongxuan, 25; XZJ 88:388a-b, emphasis added. 81. Li Tongxuan, 52 (modified); XZJ 88:393a. 82. For a Chinese version of the sutra, translated by Kumarajiva, see ^475/14:537557. T h e most recent English translation is by Watson, trans., The Vimalakirti

Sutra.

I84

N O T E S TO P A G E S

39-43

Other translations are Thurman, trans., The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti; and Lu Kuan Yii (Charles Luk), trans., The Vimalakirti nirdesa sutra. 83. Thurman, trans., The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti, 65; 7"475/i4:54g. 84. Thurman, trans., The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti, 65-66; 7*475/14:549. 85. Li Tongxuan, 55 (modified), with emphasis added; XZJ 88:394a. 86. T 650/15:758-761. Also included in Dazhidu lun (juan 6); T 1509/25:107^ 108a. See Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy, 233; see also 231-234. Faure's emphasis is on the monastic dereliction. 87. Faure, The Red Thread, 98. 88. Thurman, trans., The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti, 71; T 475/14:549. 89. 72016/48:529. 90. Various tales of the same topos are quoted and discussed by Qian Zhongshu, Guanzhui bian, 2:686-687; see also 2:524-528,3:965-966, 4:1478-1479. This episode is from Xu Xuanguai lu. Many poets and writers allude to or amplify it. Cf. Feng Menglong, Gujin xiaoshuo, chap. 29, "Yueming heshang du Liu Cui" (Monk Yueming delivers Liu Cui); for a translation and a discussion of the episode, see Hua-yuan Li Mowry, Chinese Love Stories from "Ch'ing-shih," 176-177. 91. Faure, The Rhetoric ofImmediacy, 233. Also relevant is sutra 38 of Dabaojijing (Maharatnakutasutra), in Garma C. C. Chang, general ed., A Treasury of Mahayana Sutras, 427-468; 7^310/11:594-607. 92. Elder, "Psychological Observations on the 'Life of Gautama Buddha,'" 33. 93. Ibid., 31. 94. Williams, Mahayana Buddhism, 122. 95. O'Flaherty, Dreams, Illusions and Other Realities, 155, emphasis added. 96. Cf. Mair, "The Narrative Revolution in Chinese Literature," 1-27; Bandy, Embracing Illusion, passim. 97. See Anthony C. Yu's discussion on the Buddhist ontology's "analogue to the ontology of narrative art" in Rereading the Stone, esp. 149. 98. See LaFleur, The Karma of Words, 8; and Xie Siwei, Chanzongyu Zhongguo wenxue, 123-129. 99. Huang Zhuoyue, Fojiaoyu wan-Ming wenxue sichao, 168-169. 100. Quoted in Guo Yingde, Ming-Qingwenren chuanqiyanjiu, 164. 101. Tu Long, " T a n h u a j i x u , " in Cai Yi, ed., Zhongguo gudian xiqu xuba huibian, 2:1212. 102. Mair, Tun-huang Popular Narratives, 2-3. 103. This turn of mind is reflected in the following episode: Qiu Qiongshan [1420-1495; Ming writer, political thinker, statesman] passed by a temple, and saw that the four walls were covered with illustrations from The Western Chamber [Xixiangji, a play of romantic love]. Qiu was astonished: "How could the 'Gate of Emptiness' harbor this?" The monk replied, "The old monk derived therefrom Ch'an enlightenment." Qiu asked, "Wherefrom?" [The monk] answered, "From the line 'How can I bear the lingering gaze of her lovely eyes as she departs?'"

N O T E S TO PAGES 4 4 - 4 7

185

Included in Feng Menglong's Qingshi leiliie, chap. 15, translated and quoted in Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment, 59. This episode is also included in Gujin tangai, chap. 11; see FengMenglongquanji, 39:482-483. One may say that such episodes were intended more to entertain than anything else, but given the context in which it is included—the characters are those the compiler could identify with, and the social stature of the scholars who hold this view—it is difficult to deny their seriousness completely. For instance, You Tong (1618-1704) expressed his impression that Mudan ting (The peony pavilion) "is entirely in accord with Chan principles" in a conversation with Emperor Kangxi. See Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment, 59-60, n. 28. 104. For representative works on the deliverance play, see Zhao Youmin, "Yuan zaju zhong de dutuoju"; Rong Shicheng, "Dutuoju de yuanxing fenxi"; Zhou Yude, Zhongguo xiquyu Zhongguo zongjiao, although he does not use the term "deliverance play"; and Idema, The Dramatic Oeuvre of Chu Yu-tun (1379-1439). Idema deals with Zhu Youdun's innovation in this dramatic (sub)genre. 105. Daboniepan jing (Mahaparinirvana-sutra), chap. 32, T 374/12:5608. This is also emphasized in Fosuoxingzan, 1.18,4; Tig2/4:lb. 106. Li Tongxuan, 51-52; XZJ 88:393a. 107. The frequent appearances of Taoist figures are politically motivated; see, for example, Zhao Youmin, "Yuan zaju zhong de dutuoju." 108. Idema, The Dramatic Oeuvre of Chu Yu-tun (1379-1439), 63. 109. See Rong Shicheng, "Dutuoju de yuanxing fenxi," 175. For the first type, he has Ma Zhiyuan's (ca. 1250-bet. 1321 and 1324) Handan dao xingwu huangliang meng as an example; for the second type, he chooses Jia Zhongming's (1343-after 1422) Tieguai Li du Jintong Yunii and Li Shouqing's (dates unknown) Yueming heshang du Liu Cui as representative works. 110. Idema, The Dramatic Oeuvre of Chu Yu-tun (1379-1439), 63. 111. Ibid., 80. 112. For instance, Tang Xianzu. I will refer to these plays when the occasion arises. 113. E.g., Leviticus 25:23; 1 Chronicles 29:15; Hebrews 11:13; Genesis 47:9; Exodus 6:4. 114. Paulson, "Life as Journey and as Theater," 43. 115. For studies of the journey or pilgrimage in Western literature and thought, see, among others, Chew, The Pilgrimage of Life; Roppen and Sommer, Strangers and Pilgrims; Bowman, ed., Itinerarium; and Abrams, Natural Supernaturalism. 116. Paulson, "Life as Journey and as Theater," 53. 117. Paulson, "The Pilgrimage and the Family." 118. Paulson, "Life as Journey and as Theater," 44. 119. Bakhtin, "Forms of Time and of the Chronotope in the Novel," in The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, esp. 243-258. 120. For an interesting discussion of the narrative structure of the Chinese classical novels, see Sun Xun, "Ming-Qing changpian xiaoshuo jiegou jianlun," 50-61. 121. I follow Chen Dakang in regarding Xiyouji as a created work rather than a reworking of existing materials; he thinks that the work attributed to Wu Cheng'en is quali-

i86

N O T E S TO PAGES 4 7 - 5 3

tatively different from those versions: it is on a par with Jin Ping Mei in exhibiting the literati qualities. See Chen's Tongsu xiaoshuo de lishiguiji, esp. 90-100. 122. For the significance of the journey metaphor in Chinese thought and literature, see Pei-yi Wu, The Confucian's Progress, 95-99.

CHAPTER 3: T H E JOURNEY

1. The four landmasses surrounded by oceans of salt water in Buddhist cosmology. 2. A single world consists of one Mount Sumeru, one sun, one moon, and many stars, which equates to one solar system. A thousand single worlds are called a "smallthousand-world"; one thousand small-thousand-worlds are a "medium-thousandworld"; and one thousand medium-thousand-worlds are a great-thousand-world. See Akira Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, 93-94. 3. Mountains of iron that encircle a single world. See Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology. 4. The seas surrounding Mount Sumeru, divided by seven concentric mountain ranges. 5. "A circle of wind floats in s p a c e . . . . Resting on the wind circle is a disk of water.... Above the water circle is a disk-shaped layer of golden earth.... Its upper surface supports mountains, seas, and islands." Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, 25. 6. Gods that inhabit the heavenly realms. 7. Supernatural creatures, inferior to humans but superior to animals, who are converted to Buddhism and guard the Buddhist Dharma. 8. Ancient Indian measure for distance; 1 jojana is approximately 7 kilometers. See Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, 27. 9. Measure for time; 1 ksana equals 1/75 second. See Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, 95. 10. I will discuss the term "fandui" in Chapter 5. 11. Silpabhijna (Shanzhizhongyi tongzi), the 44th spiritual benefactor whom Sudhana visits, teaches him how to achieve enlightenment by concentrating on the 42 phonemes. 12. You Tong, "Xiyouzhenquan xu," in Liu Yinbo, ed., Xiyoujiyanjiu ziliao, 558-

55913. He did not elaborate much on how the novel elucidates Taoism, except by saying that the book is by a Taoist patriarch and the Buddhist references are vehicles of the Taoist tenor. He said even less about how to read the book in terms of Confucianism. 14. Quoted in Grant, Mount Lu Revisited, 36; translation hers. 15. Hu Shi, Zhongguo zhanghui xiaoshuo kaozheng, 361-362. 16. Hu Shi's "rewriting" of chapter 99 is included in Liu Yinbo, ed., Xiyoujiyanjiu ziliao, 266-277. Hu mentioned that he had talked with Lu Xun about the unsatisfactory chapter; see Hu's note, 266. 17. Cf. Da TangXiyuji, chap. 1. 18. See also Zheng Mingli, Xiyouji tanyuan, 2:64-69. 19. For a discussion of this concept in other traditions, see Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane, 36-47. 20. Shuowenjiezi.

N O T E S TO P A G E S 5 3 - 5 9

187

21. " T a i shi shang," Shujing (Book of documents). 22. Ding Fubao, ed., Shuowen jiezi gulin, 9:3465a, quoting from "Liyun" of Liji (Book of rites). 23. Quoted in Birrell, Chinese Mythology, 32-33. 24. Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhism, 38. 25. Ch'en, Buddhism, in China, 117. 26. The first month of the Chinese calendar, represented by the hexagram tai = ; here, it refers, I would like to argue, to something cosmological, the springtime of the universe, when thcyin (- -) mdyang (—) forces reach such a balance as to give birth to "myriad things." 27. The translation is mine, modeled after Anthony Yu; I emphasize the issue of jiajie, namely that the essence of the sun and moon—hence the universe—takes advantage of the egg and assumes the form of a monkey, by means of which to manifest itself or the Great Way. Cf. Anthony Yu's translation (JW 1:72). 28. Soothill and Hodous, comps., A Dictionary of Chinese Buddhist Terms, 231. 29. Chapter "Zhile" (Perfect happiness). Watson's translation: " T o live is to borrow" (192-193). Dong Yue, in "Bencao shiliie xu," goes so far as to suggest that life forms, including mankind, are all jiajie. See his Fengcao'an qianji, 3.i2a-b. 30. Ding Fubao, ed., Shuowen jiezi gulin, 11:4647a. 31. See Anthony C. Yu, " T w o Literary Examples of Religious Pilgrimage," esp. 222-223; "Religion and Literature in China," esp. 124-126. 32. "Dayu mo" 15, Shujing; de Bary, The Message of the Mind in Neo-Confucianism, 9; de Bary's translation. 33. See, among others, Huang Zhuoyue, Fojiaoyu wan-Mingwenxue sichao, 86-104. 34. Ching, trans., The Philosophical Letters of Wang Tang-ming, 113; for Chinese text, see Wang Shouren, Wang Yangming quanji, 1:214. 35. Anthony C. Yu, "Religion and Literature in China," 124. 36. See ZDS 1.3; 1.6. 37. Xiaolian Liu, in The Odyssey of the Buddhist Mind, 26, draws on Joseph Campbell's discussion of the cosmic egg, out of which evolves this world: "Not uncommonly the cosmic egg bursts to disclose, swelling from within, an awesome figure in human form. This is the anthropomorphic personification of the power of generation." See Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, 277. Campbell seems to have in mind figures of the creator or someone out of whom the world comes into being. Monkey, however, does not have such a stature; the figure in Chinese mythology, who best exemplifies the motif of the cosmic egg, is Pan'gu, also mentioned in the first chapter of the book. Nevertheless, this motif adds significance to Monkey, a symbolic representation of the human mind/heart. In a way, the human mind/heart is elevated to be on a par with the heaven and the earth; it is a dramatization of a cosmic principle. 38. Yuanjue jing, T 842/17:919; The Sutra of Complete Enlightenment, trans. Lu K'uan Yii, in Ch'an and Zen Teaching, 246. 39. The commentators in Zhengdaoshu mention Subodhi in Jin'gang jing, which, they argue, expounds the oneness of Buddhism and Taoism (ZDS 1.3).

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40. Soothill and Hodous, A Dictionary of Chinese Buddhist Terms, 394-395. 41. See Zhu Di, Jin'gangjingjizhu, 42. See also Zheng Mingli, Xiyouji

19-20 (original 6a-b). tanyuan, 2:13-14.

43. T h i s has been pointed out by many commentators; see, for instance, ZDS 1.11. 44. Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, 155. 45. Ping Shao reads the novel as a dramatization of the Taoist search for the elixir, a search that has incorporated the Buddha nature as expounded by Zhang Boduan (984-1082). Monkey's subjugation by Buddha is regarded as Monkey's failure in the search for the elixir, a quest that is primarily oriented toward physical power, because he neglects the cultivation of his mind. Shao demonstrates that "Monkey's loss of heaven is a graphic representation of Zhang Boduan's critique of the traditional Taoist conception of elixir" (8). Monkey thus suffers reincarnation and is to resume the abortive enterprise, this time with the cultivation of his Buddha nature integrated into the quest. See Shao's "Monkey and Chinese Scriptural Tradition." 46. Ping Shao contends that the protagonist is Monkey, with the monk as "the monkey reincarnate" ("Monkey and Chinese Scriptural Tradition," 8). 47. Kao, " A n Archetypal Approach to Hsi-yu chi," 65. 48. Some think it is chapter 9, while others believe it to be chapters 12 and 13, or even chapter 22. See Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 208. 49. Cf. Frye, Secular Scripture, 148: "In stories about the birth of a hero, a frequent opening theme is that of putting him into a chest or ark which is sent floating on the water." 50. Cf. Zhang Jing'er

(Chang Ching-erh), Xiyou ji renwu yanjiu,

104; Zheng

Mingli, Xiyou ji tanyuan, 2:25. 51. Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 209, 247. 52. In Zhang Jing'er's reckoning, the eighty-one ordeals consist of forty-four episodes. See his Xiyouji

renwu yanjiu,

87,281-287.

53. For the author's play with mysterious number and the structural design of this novel, see Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 204-205. 54. I am grateful to an anonymous reader for the University of Hawai'i Press w h o has alerted me to this. For the mysterious quality of the number nine, as well as the "turns" of the elixir, see Y e Shuxian and T i a n Daxian, Zhongguo gudai shenmi shuzi, 205-232; esp. 229. 55. Plaks, in Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel (217, n. 95), lists chapters with water-crossing scenes: 1 , 3 , 5 , 9 , u - 1 2 , 1 4 , 1 5 , 2 2 , 2 6 , 3 0 , 3 7 - 3 8 , 4 4 , 4 7 ~ 4 9 , 5 3 , and 87. 56. Modern critics have, it seems, doubted whether karma can play a positive role in narratives; see H u Shi, Zhongguo zhanghui xiaoshuo kaozheng; and Prusek, " T h e Narrators of Buddhist Scriptures and Religious Tales in the Sung Period." For a discussion of the complexity of karmic law in the novel, see Bandy, "Buddhist Allegory in the Journey to the West," 518. Here she suggests that the karmic principles have been mediated and applied for compassionate ends. One of the results is that the journey is not solely one toward the salvation of the characters alone, but is also a means for the deliverance of others. 57. Cf. Anthony C . Y u ' s discussions in " T w o Literary Examples of Religious Pilgrimage," esp. 219-220; the scholar has emphasized the same passage.

189

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58. Cf. Buddha's reiteration of this when the pilgrims accomplish their mission, quoted in Chapter 1, pp. 6-12. 59. Cf. Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 243: "[TJroubling are the doubts cast over the necessity of the entire journey. More than once the question is raised as to why the cloud-soaring monkey cannot simply somersault over the Himalayas and fetch the long-sought scriptures without further trials on the part of his earthbound master." He cites the same doubts held by Li Zhuowu and Liu Yiming. 60. Xiong Wan, "Zhongguo xiaoshuo yu Foli zhi huitong," 37. See T 1666/ 32:577a-c; 1677/32:585^586^ See also Shoulengyanjing,

Tg45/ig:io7c-io8b.

61. Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, esp. 243-246. 62. Ibid., 243. 63. Cf. Philip Edward, " T h e Journey in The Pilgrim's Progress114:

"In discover-

ing faith in Christ, Christian has escaped from the City of Destruction, reached the haven of the gate and entered into the way leading to heaven. In becoming a Christian he has become alienated from the unconverted, and the journey which was a flight from his fellows is now a journey among those fellows, who are now foreigners. T h e journey takes him to Vanity Fair, which is of course the very city of Destruction which he had left long before. It is a different city because Christian has become a different man." 64. For a study of theories of two truths, see Swanson, Foundations of

T'ien-t'ai

Philosophy. 65. Ehman, "The Gandavyuha," 13. 66. This issue is also weighed by Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 254-

25567. Yampolsky, trans., The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch, 130. 68. Ibid., 132. 69. Ibid., 156-15770. ZDS 100.797. 71. Li Tongxuan, 23, modified;

XZJ88:388a.

72. Zheng Mingli, Xiyouji tanyuan, 2:25. 73. For an instance of Zen's distrust of words, see, for example, Zongjinglu, chap. 1, 7*2016/48:417-421. 74. T h e terms are the Chinese Buddhist philosopher Zongmi's. See Qian Zhongshu, Guanzhui

bian, 4:1292-1294; Gregory, "Sudden Enlightenment Followed by

Gradual Cultivation," 279-320, esp. 282-285. For another study of the gradual and sudden approach, see Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy, esp. 47-52. 75. Gregory, "Sudden Enlightenment Followed by Gradual Cultivation," 284-285. 76. Zongmi's analysis "betrays [him] as a gradualist." Further, in the face of the two stances, "one could say that both . . . are needed for balance, that a one-sided subitism can subvert practice just as one-sided gradualism can stifle realization, and that what is crucial is the vitality of the tension generated between them—but to say this is to take a tack not unsimilar to that of Zongmi and, of course, to side with the gradualists." See Gregory, "Sudden Enlightenment Followed by Gradual Cultivation," 307,309. 77. Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 211, 243.

îgo

N O T E S TO P A G E S 8 2 - 8 6

78. Ibid., 254. 79. Zhang Jing'er, Xiyouji

renwu yanjiu,

119-125. Here he contradicts Hsia and

others. 80. For this, see Ehman, "The Gandavyuha,"

13-14.

81. Ibid., 41-42. 82. Ibid., 43-71. 83. Ibid., 84. 84. Ibid., 87-88. 85. Ibid., 89. 86. Ibid., 90, emphasis in original. 87. Ibid., 93, 93-10388. Gimello, " L i T'ung-hsiian and the Practical Dimension of Hua-yen," 341-342, slighdy modified; 7*1739/36:8703. 89. Gimello, " L i T'ung-hsiian and the Practical Dimension of Hua-yen," 343; translation of Li Tongxuan; 7*1739/36:76^ 90. Plaks, " T o w a r d s a Critical T h e o r y of Chinese Narrative," 3 4 5 . 1 will come to the discussions on other works by different authors when the occasion arises. 91. See, for example, Zhang Shushen, "Xinshuo Xiyouji zongpi," 1:2; Zhu Yixuan and Liu Yuchen, eds., Xiyouji ziliao huibian, 223. 92. Zhangjing'er, Xiyouji renwu yanjiu, 85-86, 74,107. 93. Plaks, Four Masterworks of the Ming Novel, 235-236, 268. 94. Zheng Mingli, Xiyouji

tanyuan, 37-43.

95. Shao, "Monkey and Chinese Scriptural Tradition," 9. 96. Herdman, The Double in Nineteenth-Century

Fiction, 1-2.

97. Cf. Axthelm, The Modern Confessional Novel, 11: "Perhaps the two most important [characteristic techniques of the modern confessional novel] are the double and the use of irony by both the author and the hero. T h e double—a more psychologically complex version of the mirror symbol—is used consistently to express the confessional hero's relations with others in terms of self-discovery." " F o r every other creature is guided by one principle; but we [the humans] are pulled in different directions by our different faculties . . . towards the better by the godlike e l e m e n t . . . towards the worse by the domination of the bestial element within us," as Robert Rogers quotes the Byzantine lexicographer Photius's life of Pythagoras. Rogers further elaborates: In the quasi-scientific allegory of modern metapsychology one might speak instead of a tug-of-war between man's superego and id. No matter what terms are used, we can argue that man does have a double—or multiple—nature. We need not be mystified along with Walt Whitman when he says, "I cannot understand the mystery, but I am always conscious of myself as two." Nor will we think Maupassant completely mad for having seen his hallucinatory double sit at the other side of a desk, dictating what he should write. We are familiar with the double, or doppleganger, both as a common literary m o t i f . . . and a recurrent phenomenon in psychopathology.

N O T E S TO PAGES 8 7 - 9 0

See Rogers, A Psychological Study of the Double in Literature, 1-2. 98. Cf. Rogers's comments, A Psychological Study of the Double in Literature, 10. 99. Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, 143. 100. Ibid., 153-154; see also 143-157. 101. Li Tongxuan, 57; XZJ 88:394a. 102. See Sadakata, Buddhist Cosmology, esp. 134. Ehman sees something problematic in this interpretation: "Are they [Sudhana's spiritual benefactors] indeed transformations of the Buddha—i.e., of one whose abode is 'highest perfect enlightenment' and yet who consciously assumes multiple forms for the sake of sentient beings? . . . If so, then how does one explain the severe limitation of the kalyanamitras and their confessed ignorance concerning 'highest perfect enlightenment'?" See Ehman, "The Gandavyuha," 26. The above question, however, can be accounted for by the principle of expedient means. The bodhisattvas, in their avatars, choose to be bound by the world of samsara and ignorance, although they are not of it. Ehman, at the same time, acknowledges the oneness of bodhisattvas: "Each bodhisattva is an objectification and reflection of the highest perfect enlightenment. As such, each is the same as the other" (46). 103. Chandra, ed., Sudhana's Way to Enlightenment, 174. 104. Cf. the figure Tiresias in T . S. Eliot's The Waste Land, who in a way represents the totality of the human condition. In Eliot's own notes, " [A] 1 though a mere spectator and not indeed a 'character,' [Tiresias] is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting aU the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand, Prince of Naples, so all women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem." In P. C. Sri's comments, "Tiresias is all the different characters in the poem; they are his own self reincarnated endlessly in different lives, which are yet one life, united in his consciousness." See his T. S. Eliot, Vedanta and Buddhism, 23, emphasis in original. Eliot's note is cited by Sri. 105. Knapp, A Jungian Approach to Literature, 17. 106. Zheng Mingli, Xiyouji tanyuan, 2:33. 107. See also Joyce C. H. Liu, "The Doubling of the Stone." 108. Cf. ZhangJing'er, Xiyouji renwuyanjiu, 125. 109. Anthony C. Yu, trans., "How to Read The Original Intent of the Journey to the West," 303; Liu Yiming, ilXiyouyuanzhi dufa," 248. CHAPTER 4: T H E

DREAM

1. For studies of this novel, see Hegel, The Novel in Seventeenth-Century China, 141-166; Brandauer, Tung Yiieh; Fu Shiyi, Xiyou bu chutan; C. T . Hsia and T . A. Hsia, "New Perspectives on Two Ming Novels," 229-245 (the part on Xiyou bu by T . A. Hsia); Kao, "A Tower of Myriad Mirrors"; Andres, "Ch'an Symbolism in Hsi-yu Pu"; I-Chun Wang, "Allegory and Allegoresis of the Cave"; Chu, "Journey into Desire"; Xu Fuming, "Guanyu Xiyou bu zuozhe Dong Yue de shengping"; Zeng Yongyi, "Dong Yue de qingyu shijie"; Wang Tuo, "Dui Xiyou bu de xin pingjia"; Wang Weimin, "Duiyu Xiyouji de yizhong chanshi"; and He Lianghao, '''"Xiyou bu de qian yu ao."

192

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90-93

2. T h i s date was first established by Liu Fu (Liu Bannong) in 1927, "Xiyou bu zuozhe D o n g Ruoyu zhuan," 96. For Dong's poem, see Fengcao'an shiji, 2-4a-b. T h e preface to the woodblock edition, by Yiru jushi (Layman Yiru), was dated 1641. There are scholars who think that Dong Yue's father Dong Sizhang (1586-1628) wrote the book; see Gao Hongjun, "Xiyou bu zuozhe shi shui"; and Fu Chengzhou, "Xiyou bu zuozhe Dong Sizhang kao." Rolston (Traditional Chinese Fiction and Fiction Commentary, 176-178) takes Dong Sizhang's authorship seriously; he suggests that both contributed to the book. Su Xing, while maintaining Dong Yue's authorship, speculates that the book was written between 1649 and 1650, a veiled attack on the Qing and the Manchu collaborators. See Su's "Xiyou bu de zuozhe j i xiezuo shijian kaobian" in two installments. 3. Many sequels and supplements fall far short of the originals, but some stand on their own merit, like Shuihu houzhuan (Sequel to the Water margin) by D o n g Y u e ' s townsman and probable friend, Chen Chen (1613-1670?). For a study of Chen Chen's sequel, see Widmer, The Margins of Utopia. 4. For a seminal study of the relationship between these two works, see Z h o u Cezong (Chow Tse-tsung), "Honglou meng yu Xiyou bu." 5. Qian Zhongshu, Guanzhui bian, 2:546-547. 6. "Xiyou bu dawen," XTB 2; TMM195.

T h e translators add the word "first" be-

fore "fifteen" to make it read more smoothly. In the table of contents of the Chongzhen edition, only fifteen chapters are listed, missing what constitutes chapter 11. T h i s has led some critics to a different interpretation of Dong Y u e ' s poem: D o n g Y u e did not write a supplement to the novel Xiyou ji; rather, he supplemented his father's supplement. See Rolston, Traditional

Chinese Fiction andFiction

7. Hegel, The Novel in Seventeenth-Century

Commentary, 276-278,esp. 2 7 6 , n . 3 l . China, 160.

8. C h u , "Journey into Desire," 655. 9. Ibid., 656. 10. Ibid., 664. 11. Ibid. 12. T h e poem was written in 1605. For further discussion on the occasion of the poem, see Martin Huang, Desire and Fictional Narrative in Late Imperial China, 5 - 6 . A s Huang points out, there is an air of playfulness in these poems. For T a n g Xianzu's poem, see TangXianzu

quanji,juan

15,1:644-645.

13. "Xiyou bu dawen," XTB 1; TMM 192. 14. Cf. Li Bo (701-762), "Shudao nan" ( T h e road to Shu is hard): T h e two kings Cancong and Yufu Opened up this land in the dim past; Forty-eight thousand years since that time, Sealed off from the frontier region of Qin! (Trans. Irving Y . Lo, in Sunflower Splendor, 104-105.) 15. Faure, The Red Thread, 4. 16. " X u [Du?] Xiyou bu zaji," XYB 3. T h i s piece is included in the 1853 edition of Xiyou bu, with a preface by Tianmushan qiao (Zhang W e n h u , 1808-1885). Su Xing

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193

thinks that this piece is by the nephew of the famous scholar Qian Xizuo (1800-1844); see Su's "Xiyou bu de zuozhe ji xiezuo shijian kaobian (shang)," 245. 17. For instance, the combination of the three characters for "Xiaoyue wang" (Little Moon King) form the compound that is qing (desire); this reminds us of the word plays by the author of Xiyou ji, his suggestion of the human mind or heart (xin) whenever possible. "Qingqing shijie" (Green Green World) hints at qing (desire), a play on the homophones of qing (green, blue) and qing (desire). The demon Qingyu (Qing fish; mackerel) is a play on the homophone qingyu (passion or desire). In addition, the surname Qin also suggests qing. Even the names and tides of some historical characters evoke such connotations, like Qin Shihuang, the first emperor of the Qin dynasty, which suggests the root or origin of desire (qing), and the Song traitor Qin Gui, who is judged by Sun Wukong in the underworld. Such devices have been pointed out and discussed in various degrees by traditional commentators and modern critics alike. Cf., for example, Andres, "Ch'an Symbolism in Hsi-yu pu," 28. 18. See Wang Tuo, "Dui Xiyou bu de xin pingjia," 198-199. 19. Dong Yue generally uses the term "Pilgrim" (Xingzhe) to refer to Sun Wukong; the English translators use "Monkey" consistendy. I have followed Dong Yue's original designation here and in subsequent quotations. 20. Cf. Wang Tuo, "Dui Xiyou bu de xin pingjia," 210. 21. XYB 2. 22. For detailed discussion, see Chapter 2, pp. 35-43, "The Mahayana Paradox." 23. Cf. Andres, "Ch'an Symbolism in Hsi-yu pu," 31. 24. Cf. the batde scenes in the book (chap. 15), which can be interpreted as batdes with desire. Interestingly, the monk's title is Great Green-Killing General (a «¡wg-killing general). 25. "Xiyou bu dawen," XYB 1; TMM192. 26. For a comprehensive study of the mirror as a metaphor-simile in Buddhism and elsewhere in Eastern and Southeastern Asia, see Wayman, "The Mirror as a Pan-Buddhist Metaphor-Simile"; and Demieville, "The Mirror of the Mind." For another illuminating discussion, see Anthony C. Yu, Rereading the Stone, 137-151. See also Ching, "The Mirror Symbol Revisited." 27. See Chapter 2, pp. 28-35 above, and discussions on Honglou meng below. 28. Zhou Cezong suggests that she might be Wang Zhaojun (Mingfei). See "Honglou meng yu Xiyou bu,'''' 139. Si is a pun on si (longing, desire) and si (silk thread that binds and entangles). 29. For example, the opening poem ofJin PingMei cihua. See Jin PingMei: Huiping huijiao ben, 1526-1527. Another character mentioned here, Liizhu, is regarded as someone whose beauty will bring destruction to the whole family. 30. Wukong should have known better. Cf. the discussions in Chapter 2, pp. 46-48. 31. "Xiyou bu dawen," XYB 1; TMM 193. 32. See Hegel, The Novel in Seventeenth-Century China, 162. For works dealing with dreams in traditional China, see, among others, Qian Zhongshu, Guanzhui bian, 2:488-500; Fu Zhenggu, Zhongguo meng wenhua; Lienche T u Fang, "Ming Dreams";

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Brown, ed., Psycho-Sinology; Wai-yee Li, "Dream Visions of Transcendence in Chinese Literature and Painting"; Plaks, " . . . But a Dream"; Faure, The Rhetoric of Immediacy, 209-230; Zeitlin, Historian of the Strange, esp. 132-181; Anthony C . Y u , Rereading the Stone, esp. 137-151; and O'Flaherty, Dreams, Illusions and Other Realities. Also relevant are works devoted to the Japanese monk Myöe (1173-1232), whose penchant for dreams may shed some interesting light on D o n g Yue's; see Kawai, The Buddhist Priest Myöe; and Tanabe, Myöe the Dream Keeper. 33. Zhaoyang mengshi is included in Fengcao 'an zazhu, juan 1. 34. T h e prefaces and his thoughts on dreams are included in Fengcao'an

qianji,

2.nb-i6b. 35. For instance, " M e n g Bencao," "Bing you j i , " and " X u Bing you j i , " Fengcao 'an qianji, 3.i2a-b, I5a-i6a. See also Fengcao'an qianji, 3.4a-5a; Fengcao'an wenji, 1.10b11b, I.i6a-I7b, I.i7b-i8b, I.i8b-i9a; and Fengcao'an shiji, i-7b-8a ("Mengxiang ci"), i.8b-ga, 1.9b, 1.10a, 1.11b ("Ji mengyou"), 1.12b, 5.ib-2a, 5 7 b - 8 a , 5.9a, 5.16b, 6.7a, 7.13b, 8.6a-b, 9.8a, 9.10b. 36. For instance, "Meng lianzhu," Fengcao'an qianji, 3-5a-b; Fengcao'an shiji, 7.7a (in which he completed a piece he began to compose in a dream). 37. Preface, Fengcao'an qianji, 1. 38. See his " M e n g bencao," Fengcao'an

qianji.

39. For his correspondence with Y a n Jifang about dreams, see Fengcao'an

shiji,

i.8b-ga. For his poems related to dreams and his friendship with Huang Zhouxing, see Baoyun shiji, 2.3a~4a. From his own notes to these poems, we know that Huang admired his Zhaoyang mengshi. Huang also has a book tided Mengshi (History of dream). A m o n g Huang's works is Mengxuan liieke (A selection of dreams); see Zeitlin, Historian of the Strange, 265, n. 20. 40. Fengcao'an shiji, 8.3b. In this piece he seems to imply that the obsession with dreams is a family tradition. 41. Fengcao'an shiji, 6.ioa-b. 42. Fengcao'an wenji, 1.18a. 43. Fengcao'an zazhu, i-7a-8a. 44. Watson, trans., The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu, 47-48. For Chinese, see G u o Qingfan, comp., Zhuangzijishi,

Zhuzijicheng

45. Graham, trans., The Book ofLieh-tzu,

edition, 49-50.

69-70. Borges is fascinated with this par-

able, as he is with Zhuangzi's story about the philosopher's dreaming of becoming a butterfly and his confusion ensuing from that dream. T h i s parable is included in Borges and Bioy Casares, eds., Extraordinary

Tales, 32-33. See also Sarlo, Jorge Luis Borges:

A Writer on the Edge, 57. For Chinese, see Liezi, Zhuzijicheng

edition, 36-37.

46. See, for example, Sun Changwu, Fojiaoyu Zhongguo wenxue, 264. 47. Taiping guangji, juan

276-282, 2173-2252, esp. juan

281-282, 2242-2252.

W a n g Xilian's "Honglou meng zongping" is also relevant; see Feng Qiyong, Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 1:3. 48. For critical works, see Qian Zhongshu, Guanzhui

bian, 2:756-762; and Mei

Jialing, " L u n ' D u Zichun' yu 'Zhenzhongji' de rensheng taidu." See also Sun Changwu,

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Fojiao yu Zhongguo

195

wenxue,

264; Xiong W a n , "Zhongguo xiaoshuo yu Foli zhi

huitong," esp. 28-35. 49. For an excellent discussion of T a n g Xianzu in this respect, see Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment,

esp. 47-81.

50. Cf. X u Fuming, Honglou mengyu xiqu bijiao yanjiu, 187. 51. For a discussion of the dreams in this novel, see Hegel, The Novel in SeventeenthCentury China, 161-163

an< J

passim; Fu Shiyi, Xiyou bu chutan, 124-137, 174-177; and

Brandauer, Tung Yiieh, 83-85,94-104. 52. T h e term "literalization" is Kao's; see his " A T o w e r ofMyriad Mirrors," 233-235. 53. "Mengxiang zhi," Fengcao'an qianji, 2.i2a-b. 54. Padmal de Silva, "Buddhist Psychology," 57-58. Hegel, in The Novel in Seventeenth-Century

China (232), points out that "the liter-

ary novel in China tends more toward an exploration of mind than an investigation of mere external reality." Rolston has also dealt with this phenomenon in Traditional

Chi-

nese Fiction and Fiction Commentary (213-216, esp. 213). Plaks, in "After the Fall" (553), discusses what distinguishes the seventeenth-century's novel forms from their predecessors in the sixteenth-century, the inward turn: "In tracing the pattern of development from the sixteenth- to the seventeenth-century novels, we can see a certain parallel to the 'inward turn' [die Verinnerung] of the Western novel described by Erich Kahler. T h a t is, whereas the sixteenth-century novels were all based on pre-existing sources from the popular tradition, the seventeenth-century works come more and more to be based on personal experience, so that the public focus of the earlier work becomes increasingly one of private sensibility." One of Plaks' examples is Xiyou bu, by implication the consummation of this trend. Plaks attributes this inward turn to the influence of the xinxue (learning of the mind), the late Ming school of philosophy championed by W a n g Yangming (1472-1529). His contextualization is extremely insightful and helpful. However, this inward turn may also be explained in light of Buddhism, whose soteriological model is epistemological, even psychological. For works on Buddhist psychology, see, among others, Kalupahana, The Principles of Buddhist Psychology; Padmasiri de Silva, An Introduction to Buddhist Psychology and Buddhist and Freudian

Psychology; Katz, ed.,

Buddhist and Western Psychology. 55. For psychological issues in Chinese Buddhism, see, for example, Liang Qichao, "Fojiao xinlixue qiance." 56. " X u [Du?] Xiyou bu zaji," XYB 4. 57. Consider also the playful rendering of Xin jing or Bore boluomiduo (Prajnaparamita-hrdaya-sutra,

xinjing

Heart sutra) into Duoxin jing. T h i s rendering, how-

ever, has a long history, stretching back to the T a n g . See Qian Zhongshu,

Guanzhui

bian, 2:688-689. 58. "Xiyou bu dawen," XYB 1;

TMM193.

59. " X u (Du?) Xiyou bu zaji," XYB 4. 60. For studies of the dream in Freudian terms, see Hegel, The Novel in SeventeenthCentury China, esp. 161-162, where he details Sun Wukong's psychological tensions in special reference to his repressed desire; and Fu Shiyi, Xiyou bu chutan, 134-137, where

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the Freudian paradigm—conflict and reconciliation among the id, ego, and superego—is applied, which also boils down to desire, its repression, and resurfacing. The Freudian triad is essentially a duet. Thus, Western psychology, Freudian, Jungian, or otherwise, is not totally irrelevant to the study of Buddhism and the traditional Chinese novel, although psychology in Buddhism and the literary works under its influence do take different forms. 61. Borges and Bioy Casares, Extraordinary Tales, 20. See also my discussion of such elements in Honglou meng. 62. Borges, Labyrinths, xviii. 63. For work-within-work in this novel, see Rolston, Oral Performing Literature in Traditional Chinese Fiction, 83-84. I am grateful to Professor Rolston for the loan of this special issue. 64. See Xiyou bu, Chongzhen ed., 7.7a; cf. 7.10a (both marginal comments). 65. "Xiyou bu dawen," XYB1; TMM193. 66. Hegel, The Novel in Seventeenth-Century China, 164. See also 163: 1 1 The Tower of Myriad Mirrors explores and comments directly on the writer's craft." 67. When Sun Wukong substitutes for the late King of the Underworld, he asks his attendants for a novel to read. They tell him, unfortunately, that the King of the Underworld should study the almanac rather than read novels. See XYB 8.35; TMM 100.

CHAPTER 5: T H E " R E D

CHAMBER"

1. Liu Hsieh, The Literary Mind and the Carving ofDragons, 192. Cf. Siu-kit Wong et al., The Book of Literary Design, 130: "The matching of the opposites presents one argument with two different illustrations." For Chinese, see Zhao Zhongyi, annot., Wenxin diaolongyizhu, 301. The pervasive use of parallelism in a particular work has been documented by Mao Zonggang and his father in their commentary edition of Sanguo yanyi (preface 1680). See Roy, trans., "How to Read The Romance of the Three Kingdoms,'''' esp. 188-191. For a study of this device in Honglou meng, see Zhangjinchi, "Zaitan Cao Xueqin de jiegou xue." 2. Xin Qiji, Xin Qiji quanji, 90. 3. For a study of the stone symbolism in the Chinese novel, see Jing Wang, The Story of Stone. 4. See Shanhaijing, chap. 16, "Dahuang xi jing," in Yuan Ke, annot. and trans, into modern Chinese, Shanhaijing quanyi, 300: "In the Great Wilderness there is the Mountain of Great Wilderness, where the sun and moon set." 5. Cf. Qu Yuan, "Tian wen ": "How was Heaven's pole raised? How do the Eight Pillars of Heaven keep it up? Why is there a gap in the south-east?" Hawkes, trans., Ch 'u Tz'u, 47. 6. Yuan Ke, Shanhaijing quanyi, 297,311-332. See also Plaks, Archetype and Allegory in the Dream of the Red Chamber, 28-29. 7. 36,501 = 365 x 100 + 1. Cf. chap. 88: "Next year is Her Old Ladyship's eightyfirst birthday, and since eighty-one is nine times nine, she has pledged herself to hold a

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197

nine-day mass, and to have three thousand six hundred and fifty-one copies made of the Sutra of the Immaculate Diamond [Jin'gangjing/" (HLM 88.1254; SS 4:17&)- Cf. also the numerology in chap. 1 oiXiyouji and our discussions about it. 8. One zhang is ten Chinese feet. Hawkes' conversion into British measurement distracts from the symbolism conveyed by the numerology. 9. Watson, trans., The Complete Works ofChuang Tzu, 87; Wang Xianqian, Zhuangzi jijie, Zhuzijicheng edition, 44. 10. The name of a maid in chapter 26 reminds Zhiyanzhai that human life is superfluous. See ZYZ 26.476; Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou mengpiyu pianquan, 161. 11. Most likely Zhiyanzhai is a composite entity, a group of commentators working together. 12. A plausible question is: have other stones developed self-consciousness, too? 13. Cf. also Su Shi, "Hou Chibi fu" [Second prose poem on Red Cliff, 1082]: I went back to my friends and got into the boat, and we turned it loose to drift with the current, content to let it stop wherever it chose. The night was half over and all around was deserted and still, when a lone crane appeared, cutting across the river from the east. Its wings looked like cart wheels, and it wore a black robe and a coat of white silk. With a long grating cry, it swooped over our boat and went oifto the west. Soon afterwards, I left my friends and went to bed. I dreamed I saw a Taoist immortal in a feather robe come bouncing down the road past the foot of Lingao. He bowed to me and said, "Did you enjoy your outing to the Red Cliff?" I asked him his name, but he looked down and didn't answer. "Ah, wait—of course—now I know! Last evening, flying over our boat and crying—that was you, wasn't it?" He turned his head and laughed, and I woke up with a start. I opened the door and peered out, but I could see no sign of him. See Watson, trans., Su Tung-p'o: Selections from a Sung Dynasty Poet, 92-93. Another version has it that the poet dreamed of two Taoist immortals, which is equally fitting to this occasion: even immortals need company, to trade jokes, for instance. The longing, manifested in Su Shi's dream, may have concretized in the forms of a Buddhist monk and a Taoist immortal hovering in the sky of the Chinese literary landscape. For the Chinese text, see Su Shi xuanji, 390-391 and 391-394. 14. Hawkes, in his translation, which I will rely on primarily, uses a different text, a text that has reduced, in some measure, the complexity of the framing story. According to this version, it is the two religious figures who have devised the Stone's journey down. This is the text in all editions except the. jiaxu (1754) edition. See Feng Qiyong, Zhiyanzhai chongping Shitou ji huijiao, 1:8. The Renmin wenxue edition, based on the gengchen (1760) text, adds 429 characters from the jiaxu edition. In the discussion of the framing story, I therefore follow the translation of the jiaxu text by Miller in his Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, a study that unveils much of the complexity of the first and last chapters in terms of the book's narrative versatility.

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198

15. Boyd, Satan and Mara, 165. More of this later when we discuss the issue of mara. 16. HLM i.8n. 17. Feng Qiyong, comp. and ed., Zhiyanzhai chongpingShitouji

huijiao, 1:23-25.

18. Cf. Ma Li, " C o n g xushu shoufa kan 'Shitou' zai Honglou meng zhong de zuoyong," 72; and Cai Yijiang, "'Shitou' de zhineng yu Zhen, Jia Baoyu." For other excellent studies on the function of the Stone in the book, see also Lin Guanfu, "Wanshi zenme biancheng meiyu"; "'Jia baoyu' y u j i a Baoyu"; and Honglou meng zongheng tan, 42-45,108-110; H u Jingzhi, " W a n g ru hongchen ruo xu nian." It seems that critics writing in Chinese have paid relatively more attention to this issue. Wai-yee Li, in Enchantment and Disenchantment,

regards Jia Baoyu and the Stone as representing two modes

of temporal experience, the lyrical and otherwise; the insertion of the Stone's voice represents the precariousness of the lyrical vision (212-214). Also relevant are Mei Tingxiu, "Honglou meng chengshu guocheng kao"; and Li Xifan, "'Shenhua' he 'xianshi.'" 19. Both jiaxu

(1754) and gengchen (1760) manuscripts make this distinction. See

Lin Guanfu, Honglou meng zong heng tan, 82-85. 20. See Ma Li, " C o n g xushu shoufa kan 'Shitou' zai Honglou meng zhong de zuoyong," 70, for other instances. 21. Other examples come to mind readily: the stories of Orpheus and Oedipus, among others. T h e y are ironic, pardy because the prophecies or prophetic warnings always manage to come true, however unlikely they may appear at first. Cf. also Jefferson, "Mise en abyme and the Prophetic in Narrative." 22. Zhang Shushen, "Xinshuo Xiyouji

zongpi," 1:7.

23. In various manuscripts the two chapters are combined. T h e two incidents are noted by Zhang Xinzhi; see Feng Qiyong, Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 353, 378. See also SS1:350-352,372.

Cf. ZYZ 18.333.

24. T h e imperfection of the world is dealt with in Xiyouji,

which accepts it philo-

sophically and comically, so to speak (since the world is a comedy to one w h o thinks). W h e n the pilgrims carry the sutras to China, they encounter yet another calamity in which they all fall into the Heaven-Reaching River. T h e scriptures get wet, and they dry them in the sun. In the process, one scripture is torn and damaged. Tripitaka feels conscience-stricken, blaming himself for being careless. Sun Wukong, however, says with a laugh: "After all, even Heaven and Earth are not perfect. T h i s sutra may have been perfect, but a part of it has been torn off precisely because only in that condition will it correspond to the profound mystery of nonperfection. What happened isn't something human power could anticipate or change" {XYJ 99.1249; JW 4:408). Concerning this episode, the commentator Huang Zhouxing writes, " T h e greatness of Heaven and Earth lies in their imperfection" ( Z D S 99.845). Cf. also Miller's discussion of the imperfection of heaven and earth in Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 63-64, 8 6 . 1 emphasize the Buddhist connotations of the term "quexian" (imperfection) in this context. 25. Extremely relevant here is the Western concept of the fortunate fall; see my discussions in Chapter 1, and the Buddhist understanding of mara. 26. "Honglou meng pinglun" (1904), reprinted in HLMjf 1:244-265. For a study of this critical piece, see, among others, Bonner, Wang Kuo-wei 81-88; and Y a n g Mu,

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199

" W a n g Guowei j i q i ' H o n g l o u meng pinglun'"; Y e Jiaying, Wang Guowei jiqi

wenxue

piping, 174-211. Despite Wang Guowei's almost always acute insight, on this count he is implying the very opposite of what Cao Xueqin might have meant. 27. Watson, trans., The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu, 35. 28. For an illuminating discussion of this passage, see Anthony C . Y u ,

Rereading

the Stone, 133 and 120. 29. Scholars who have dealt with this theme include Wai-yee Li, Anthony C . Y u , and Dore Levy. 30. However, there lacks a consistent Buddhist approach to Honglou meng on the part of traditional commentators; see Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou

mengpiyupian-

quan, xli-xlii. Modern studies that take Buddhist readings include X u Xiaoling, " C o n g Baoyu de j u e w u kan Honglou meng de chushi jingshen"; G u o Y u w e n , Honglou meng renwu yanjiu,

1-64, esp. 47-64; Mou Zongsan, "Honglou meng beiju zhi yancheng";

Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment, yu qiwuzhe de duihua: Shitouji

esp. 216-232; and Xiao Chi, "Shutuozhe

de duochong renzhi shijie." Zheng Peikai, in Tang

Xianzu yu wan-Ming wenhua, discusses the vacillation between the "excess of love" (qing duo) and "extinction of love" (qingjin)

of T a n g Xianzu and Cao Xueqin; see esp.

313-35631. Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou meng piyu pianquan,

xlii.

32. See Hsien-hao Liao, "Tai-yii or Pao-ch'ai," where the critic argues that the two worlds between which Baoyu vacillates are the world of the grown-ups, represented by Baochai and the masculine, and the world of youth, represented by Daiyu and the feminine. 33. Such thoughts are anticipated in Chinese history, like those of Xie Ximeng, whose life parallels that of Jia Baoyu. For Xie's life, see Zhanzhan waishi (Feng Menglong), Qingshi, 1:154. For a discussion on the affinities of thoughts between Jiao Baoyu and Xie Ximeng, see Edwards, Men and Women in Qing China, 52-53. 34. See Tonglin L u , Rose and Lotus, 129; Chi Xiao, The Chinese Garden as Lyric Enclave,

209-210; Martin Huang, Desire and Fictional

Narrative

in Late

Imperial

China, 271-314. Huang's study is a nuanced treatment of this issue. 35. It is insinuated that he has some clandestine relationship—of a homosexual nature—with Qin Keqing's younger brother Qin Zhong and the actor Jiang Yuhan. 36. T h e r e are critics, among them Ma Li, who regard such passages as "lapses" (baibi). Rolston has discussed the opinion of these critics in '"Point of View' in the Writings ofTraditional Chinese Fiction Critics." 37. U p o n this issue, see Hsien-hao Liao. 38. Cf. Liu Lüfen's comment in Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou meng piyu pianquan, 183. 39. Cf. Mou Zongsan, "Honglou meng beiju zhi yancheng." 40. Cf. L u Xun: " T r a g e d y over-shadows the family splendour, but Pao-yu is the only one conscious of it." L u Hsun, A Brief History of Chinese Fiction, trans. Yang and Yang, 304; L u X u n , Zhongguo xiaoshuo shilüe, 165. Cf. also Li Zehou, Mei de licheng. 41. A s the Song poet Su Shi poignantly expresses it in a famous ci poem, " F o r mor-

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tals there is grief and j o y , / coming together and going apart; / the moon has bright and shadowed phases, / wholeness and then something gone—/ things never stay at perfection." See O w e n , ed. and trans., An Anthology of Chinese Literature, interpretation of this issue, see Wai-yee Li, Enchantment

578. For another

and Disenchantment,

203-

204. 42. Soothill and Hodous, comp., A Dictionary of Chinese Buddhist Terms, 449; text modified. 43. See Boyd, Satan and Mara. "Satan's domain and power," he writes, "are identified with 'the power of darkness' that reign over this present evil age" (154). But not its Buddhist counterpart. "Mara has the majesty and splendor of a deva [a god abiding in heavenly realms] who is long-lived and often associated with kama [sense desires and/or pleasures], the expression of love and enjoyment oflife in this world. Mara is not the hostile power which brings ruin and end to life; rather he promotes life in samsara and those pleasures that lead to its continuance. T h e early Buddhist experience of papa ("evil"), in the context of the Mara mythology, is basically one of being attracted to the pleasures and ideals of this world" (155). 44. Boyd, Satan and Mara, 157-158. 45. Song Q i , " L u n Jia Baoyu wei zhu yan zhi guan." See also Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment,

211-212. T h e interpretation that Jia Baoyu himselfis the para-

gon of the female characters takes into account his femininity. 46. Song Q i , " L u n Yihongyuan zong yi yuan zhi shou." 47. Chih-hsu Ou-i, The Buddhist I Ching, trans. Cleary, 94; Zhixu Ouyi, Zhouyi chanjie, 49. Cf. X u Fuguan's interpretation ofguan in Confucian exegesis of the

Shijing

[Book of songs]: "the essence and nature oflife are illuminated through the work of art." See his Zhongguoyishujingshen,

31. Interestingly, D o n g Y u e in one place regards guan

as an ultimate means of composition. See Fengcao'an qianji, 3-i-2a. 48. For discussions about this term, see Plaks, Archetype and Allegory in the Dream of the Red Chamber, esp. 178-187. He has noted the Buddhist connotations of the term: " T h e possibility of Buddhist resonance in the term—particularly in view of the recurrent use of Buddhist terminology in the novel—should . . . not be overlooked" (180). He mentions such terms as "dayuanjueguan"and

"dayuanjue

jingzhi."

49. Cf. Hawkes' remarks quoted in Chapter 1. He also points out the relationship between Tiantai Buddhism and the term "daguan." See his " T h e Story of the Stone: A Symbolist Novel," 17: Daguan, the name of the garden in which Baoyu grows up and passes from childhood to maturity and on to final disillusionment, is highly significant. Guan means contemplation, vipasyana, one of the key concepts of the Tiantai Buddhist sect, which is sometimes called the Zhiguan zong. This name is a key to the symbolism of the entire novel. In the Dacheng zhiguan famen, one of the main texts of this Buddhist school, we find the terms se (rupa, Form, the phenomenal world), hong (sunya, Void), and guan (vipasyana, Contemplation) used constantly; we also find the symbols dream (meng), illusion (huan), and mirror (jing).

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50. See also his discussions in HLMJ 1:83-84; X u Fuming, Honglou mengyu xiqu bijiao yanjin, 190. 51. Quoted in Rodriguez Monegal, Jorge Luis Borges: A Literary Biography, 30. 52. Cf. Dallenbach, The Mirror in the Text, 42. By "reflexivity" Dallenbach means, quoting P. Foulquie, Dictionnaire

de la langue philosopkique (Paris: PUF, 1969), 620:

"the mind [or the narrative] turning back on its states and actions." Dallenbach, 201, n. l; interpolation in original. 53. Anthony C . Y u , Rereading the Stone, 199. 54. For a comprehensive study of the mirror as a metaphor-simile in Buddhism and elsewhere in Eastern and Southeastern Asia, see citations in Chapter 4. For a study of the mirror symbolism in Honglou meng, see Zhang Chunrong, "Honglou meng liangduanjingzi qingjie de xiangzheng"; the essay focuses on chapters 12 and 116. For an illuminating discussion of the mirror in the novel in relation to dream, see Anthony C . Y u , Rereading the Stone, 137-151. 55. Cf. Jing Wang's discussion about zhaoshi and shijing (the stone that illuminates and the stone mirror) in Chinese stone lore in The Story of Stone, 83-84. 56. See Dallenbach, The Mirror in the Text. Among the first to attempt to apply the concept mise en abyme to Honglou meng is Zhang Yuhe, "Faguo de 'xin xiaoshuo' yu Zhongguo de Honglou mengji qita." Rolston, in his Oral Performing Literature in Traditional Chinese Fiction, comments on such phenomena—"miniature representations of the work as a whole embedded in the novel" (58)—in Chinese narratives, including Honglou meng (esp. 64-66, 71, 75, 83-84, 98). 57. Dallenbach, "Reflexivity and Reading." 58. Dallenbach, The Mirror in the Text, 36; text in italics. 59. Ibid., 42: " T h e common root of every mise en abyme is clearly the idea of reflexivity"; italics in original. However, I think that in Honglou meng, the issue of reflection has much to do with this device, too. 60. Garma C. C . Chang, "Fa Tsang's Hall of Mirrors," The Buddhist Teaching of Totality, 24. 61. In chapter 12, Jia Rui, perhaps the most lustful man in the novel, is fatally sick because of his unrequited love for Wang Xifeng. T h e lame Taoist in chapter 1 reappears here, presenting him with a magic mirror, namely from the hands of the goddess Disenchantment, which reflects on both sides. He instructs Jia Rui to look into the back, warning him never to look into the front. O n the front, Jia Rui sees the reflection of his beloved, whereas the other side yields the image of a gaping skeleton. He cannot resist the temptation to look into the front side, and makes love with her in a trance or dream. This exhausts all his vitality, and he dies as a result. This episode further demonstrates the novel's provenance. 62. Plaks, Archetype and Allegory in the Dream of the Red Chamber, 184, n(k). 63. Jie'an jushi's commentary: "Zijuan's little mirror with caltrop patterns is given to Baoyu. Does this imply that she is also a flower [reflected] in the mirror? It may also imply that their hearts reflect each other" ( H L M J 1:187). 64. In the gengchen (1760) edition, this chapter is incomplete and does not include

202

N O T E S TO P A G E S 1 3 8 - 1 4 1

this riddle b y j i a Baoyu. For the Chinese version, see, among others, Feng Qiyong, ed., Zhiyanzhai chongping Shitouji huijiao, 2:1171. Hawkes' translation of lines 3-4 is not quite literal. 65. Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou meng piyu pianquan, 148, 277,532; Feng Qiyong, comp, and ed., Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 493,1073,1076, 2297. 66. Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou meng piyu pianquan, 563; Feng Qiyong, comp, and ed., Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 2466. 67. Joyce C. H. Liu, " T h e Doubling of the Stone"; Hu Juren, Honglou Shuihuyu xiaoshuoyishu, 75-78; Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment, 80, n. 58. 68. Yee, "Counterpoise in Honglou meng"; "Self, Sexuality, and Writing in Honglou meng." See also Saussy, "Reading and Folly in Dream of the Red Chamber,'''' esp. 3031; there he proposes concepts of "substitution" and "displacement" for understanding what might be called "doubling" of characters. 69. Cf. Yee, "Counterpoise in Honglou meng,"1"1613: "Such coupling is not confined to the presentation of characters within particular scenes, but extends to the grouping of similar episodes,... in which various characters are juxtaposed and events echo one another. The persistent recurrence of pairing of characters and episodes point to a conscious narrative procedure." 70. This starts with Zhiyanzhai. Cf. Sun Qufu,"Shitouji weiyan": " The Story of the Stone is a book of reflections (yingshuf' (HLMJ 1:266). See also Xu Ying, "Honglou meng wenda": Xiren and Qingwen are the reflections of Baochai and Daiyu respectively. The author writes about Baochai while ostensibly writing about Xiren and writes about Daiyu while ostensibly writing about Qingwen ( H L M J 1:141-144). Zhang Xinzhi thinks that Daiyu has five "shadows" (yingshen): Qingwen (Skybright), Xiangyun, Xiaohong (Crimson), Si'er (Number Four), Wu'er (Fivey). See Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou meng piyu pianquan, 130; Feng Qiyong, comp, and ed., Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 437. 71. For a study of the oneness of Baochai and Daiyu, see Wu Xiaonan, "Chai-Dai heyi" xinlun. 72. See Xu Ying (HLMJ 1:143-144). Cf. Yu Pingbo, liHonglou meng zhong guanyu shi'er chai de miaoxie"; and Wu Xiaonan, "Chai-Dai heyi" xinlun, 10-12. Forcritiques of the view championed by Yu, see, e.g., Sun Xun, Honglou mengZhi-pingchutan, 268-272. 73. Cf. relevant discussions in Chapters 3-4. 74. The goddess' words: "That blind, defenceless love with which nature has filled your being is what we call here 'lust of m i n d . ' . . . Because of this 'lust of mind' women will find you a kind and understanding friend; but in the eyes of the world I am afraid it is going to make you seem unpractical and eccentric. It is going to earn you the jeers of many and the angry looks of many more" (HLM 5.90; SS 1:146). 75. Cf. Li Qingxin, "Yige zhuguanhua de 'fuheren' huanying—Keqing wei ChaiDai heying shuo xinjie." 76. See Li Huiyi (Wai-yee Li), "Jinghuan yu yi qing wu dao," 60. 77. Cf. Hawkes' translation, which aptly captures the tragic fate of the maidens in the novel: Belles Se Fanent, Maiden's Tears, and Lachrymae Rerum (SS 1:138-139).

203

N O T E S TO PAGES 1 4 1 - 1 4 7

78. Even Daguan yuan suggests a composite garden; cf. Plaks, Archetype and Allegory, 187: it is "a summing up, a composite picture of the entire range of Chinese garden art." 79. O n the same subject, see Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment,

192.

80. Ibid., 3-46. See aiso her essay in Chinese: Li Huiyi, "Jinghuan yu yi qing wu dao." Cf. Nie Shiqiao, "Honglou meng he gudian wenxue de guanxi." 81. Her ambiguity is also pointed out by Wai-yee Li; see Li Huiyi, "Jinghuan yu yi qing wu dao," 46. 82. For example, Huayanjing,

chap. 24; 7*278/9:549. Cf.

ZYZ35.543.

83. Cf. Dore Levy's discussions (Ideal and Actual in T h e Story of the Stone, 96.) 84. My interpretation differs from Wai-yee Li's on this count. She contends that the author of the last forty chapters had no means to understand Cao Xueqin's insights, which bordered on the paradoxical, hence the absence of the goddess Disenchantment. See Li Huiyi, "Jinghuan yu yi qing wu dao," 64. 85. See the discussion about illusion in Chapter 2. 86. See, among others, his comments on chaps. 2,5,17,21,23,117: Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou meng piyu pianquan, 8, 13-14, 49, 100, 129, 147, 593; Feng Qiyong, comp, and ed., Chongjiao bajiapingpi Honglou meng, 7,48-49,114,334,437,489,26552656. 87. Cf. Saussy, "Reading and Folly in Dream of the Red Chamber,'''' 30: "If'Jianmei' means 'two beauties combined,' then Baoyu's opposite member in the dream is simply himself, or himself in mirror-image. If this is so, the rest of the novel including Daiyu's death and Baoyu's marriage to Baochai will have to be read ironically in light of this original self-love." See also Ping-leung Chan, "Myth and Psyche in Hung-lou meng,'''' where he sees Baochai and Daiyu as Baoyu's id. 88. I presented certain ideas that make up pages 145-164 in the M C A A annual meeting at Urbana-Champagne, October 12,1996, at the panel "Engaging Audiences in Qing Narratives." I express my thanks to Professor Robert E. Hegel as chair of the panel, and Professor David L. Rolston as discussant. Their comments and critiques have helped me clarify some of the issues. 89. Wen Zhao, " O n My O w n Portrait," quoted in Zhang Juling, Qingdai Manzu zuojia wenxue gailun, 83. 90. See also Hu Juren, Honglou Shuihuyu xiaoshuoyishu,

75-78.

91. Dällenbach, The Mirror in the Text, 173, quotes M.-J. Lefebve, who in turn quotes Roger Caillois concerning Baoyu's dream. Lefebve regards it as an example of "self-embedding to infinite regression": "the same thing happens in the classic Chinese d r e a m , . . . where we see Pao Y u dream that he is walking in a garden identical to his own, but where his servants do not recognize him. Entering a pavilion, he finds himself in the presence of another Pao Y u . 'I dreamed that I was in a garden identical to mine, and none of my servants recognized me.' It is easy to imagine that the second Pao Y u , in his dream, met a third, who had been dreaming, and so on." Honglou meng does possess instances of "self-embedding to infinite regression," as we will discuss later, but perhaps not this episode. 92. Anthony C. Y u , " T h e Quest of Brother Amor," 89.

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N O T E S TO PAGES 1 4 7 - 1 5 1

93. Borges, Ocampo, and Bioy Casares, eds., Antologia de la

literaturafantastica,

89-90, 276-277. Cf. also my discussion in Chapter 4 concerning the South American writer's interest in a passage from Xiyouji. 94. Upon this issue, see Ping-leung Chan, "Myth and Psyche in Hung-lou meng." 95. Waugh, Metafidion,

2: the terms refer to "fictional writing which self-

consciously and systematically draws attention to its status as an artifact in order to pose questions about the relationship between fiction and reality." See also her further elucidation: "Metafictional novels tend to be constructed on the principle of a fundamental and sustained opposition: the construction of a fictional illusion (as in traditional realism) and the laying bare of that illusion. In other words, the lowest common denominator of metafiction is simultaneously to create a fiction and to make a statement about the creation of that fiction" (6). 96. Cf. Miller, Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 146: Jia Baoyu's enlightenment "is partially due to his reading of recondite documents. There is a paradigm of repeated readings, which runs through the entire novel." 97. Cf. Saussy, "Reading and Folly in Dream of the Red

Chamber31.

98. Feng Qiyong, comp. and ed., Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 346-347. See also " M i l o u j i , " in L u Xun, comp., Tang-Song chuanqiji,

153-156. For a novelistic

account of this tower, see, for example, Qidong yeren, Sui Yangdiyanshi,

chap. 30.

99. She mistakes her own reflection for her daughter's mother-in-law, with whom she seems to have a competing relationship. T h i s episode is based on, or influenced by, such Buddhist sutras as Baiyujing

(7*209/4:548^ and Za piyujing (7*205/4:5090). For

a discussion of these episodes concerning mirrors—episodes that question the validity of reality—see Yongxiang, Fojiao wenxue dui Zhongguo xiaoshuo deyingxiang,

87-88.

See also Qian Zhongshu, Guanzhui bian, 2:751-754; for a translation, see Egan, trans., Limited Views, 180-183. 100. T w o marginal comments emphasize this detail, the "Dweller Behind the Threshold" (Kannei ren) serving as a raft on the Ford of the Deluded (mijin). Miaoyu (Adamantina) has already been deluded; with a guide like Baoyu, she will be more lost. See Feng Qiyong, comp. and ed., Chongjiao bajia pingpi Honglou meng, 1981. 101. I think it is not in vain that in chapter 37 Daiyu mentions the parable of deer from Liezi, although it is intended as a joke at Tanchun's expense. T h e modern editors think that this allusion is only a j o k e

(HLM37.501).

102. For discussion on this issue, see Lopez, "Memories of the Buddha," and Casey, "Remembering Resumed." 103. Majjhimanikaya,

1.22, quoted in Lopez, "Memories of the Buddha," 21.

104. Ge Zhaoguang, Chanzongyu Zhongguo wenhua, 69-70. 105. Cf. O'Flaherty, Dreams, Illusions and Other Realities, 221: Karma is a ready-made classic Hindu explanation for the phenomenon of deja vu. The karmic trances produce a kind of half-recalled memory from past lives: if you think you have been somewhere before and know that it was not in this life, it was in a preceding life. Each birth makes the other life seem unreal, dreamlike, until one gains the knowledge (particularly the knowledge of past, present, and

205

N O T E S TO PAGES 1 5 2 - 1 6 0

future . . . ) to see their reality. The fragmented, imperfect, tantalizing sense of memory, the complete knowledge that hovers just out of reach of the mind's eye, is interpreted, in India, as the incomplete memory of former lives. 106. See also HLM 63.892; SS 3:225; and HLM 114.1560; SS 5:256. T h e former episode occurs during an informal party in honor of Baoyu's birthday, where the drinking cards in the game resemble somewhat the registers in the Land of Illusion. T h e latter event is about Wang Xifeng's ravings in her death throes toward the end of the book, which also reminds Baoyu of something. 107. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism, 104. 108. T h e issue of laili is stressed in Miller, Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 30, 68, 86,132-137,145. Cf. ZDS 14.126: "Never is there a man learning and practising the T a o who does not have a previous history." Miller, however, thinks that an understanding of the laili does not help one in any significant way, a point from which I differ. 109. Cf. Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, 87, n. 51: thunderbolt is "one of the major symbols in Buddhist iconography, signifying the spiritual power of Buddhahood (indestructible enlightenment) which shatters the illusory realities of the world." 110. See, for instance, Pu Andi (Plaks), comp., Honglou mengpiyupianquan,

8,13-

14,32,100,129,593. See also his discussion, 652. 111. Cf. our discussions in Chapter 4: desire is an attribute of the mind/heart. 112. Sarlo, Jorge Luis Borges: A Writer on the Edge, 56. 113. Hutcheon, Narcissistic Narrative, 54. 114. Miller, Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 197. Cf. Anthony C. Yu's illuminating discussion in Rereading the Stone, 166-168. 115. Dallenbach, "Reflexivity and Reading," 440. 116. See Lin Guanfu, "Shuo Kongkong daoren," Honglou meng zongheng tan, 99101. His examples are from the early stages in the development of Chinese Buddhism. T h e tide "daoren " can also refer to Confucian scholars in old age. See also Chiin-fang Yii, Kuan-yin, 309-310. 117. ZhangJuling, Qingdai Manzu zuojia wenxue gailun, 80. 118. 7^2014/48:395. T h e English translation is by Charles Luk, " Y u n g Chia's Song of Enlightenment," in Ch'an and Zen Teaching, 116. 119. Soothill and Hodous, comps., A Dictionary of Chinese Buddhist Terms, 277. 120. Cf. Zhuangzi, chap. 22: " W h o can reach such perfection? I can conceive of the existence of nonexistence, but not the nonexistence of nonexistence (wu ivu)." See Watson, trans., The Complete Works of Chuang Tzu, 244; Wang Xianqian, Zhuangzijijie,

143.

121. For a discussion about these two complicated terms, see Wai-yee Li, Enchantment and Disenchantment,

205-210.

122. See Zhou Cezong, "Honglou meng yu Xiyou bu." See also the discussions in Chapter 4 above. 123. See Fontein, The Pilgrimage of Sudhana, 24-40; the translation of the tide is his. 124. Zhiyi, Weimo jing liie shu, T 1778/38:597; English translation by N g Y u - K w a n , T'ien-t'ai Buddhism and Early Madhyamika, 145-146.

206

NOTES TO PAGES 1 6 0 - 1 6 7

125. Cf. Anthony Y u , " T h e Quest of Brother A m o r , " 91. 126. Borges, Labyrinths,

230-231. T h i s passage is also emphasized in Dallenbach,

The Mirror in the Text, 172-174. 127. See Y a m p o l s k y , The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch,

80.

128. Cf. Miller, Masks of Fiction in Dream of the Red Chamber, 34, n. 72, where he discusses the title Dream of the Red

Chamber.

129. Interestingly, the enlightenment of both Zhen Shiyin and Jia Y u c u n is related to Jia Baoyu's story, and they play an important role in the narration of the story, too. 130. Cf. Bandy's application of O'Flaherty's elaborations u p o n the relationship between the Indian cosmological model and what the latter calls "the concentric loops of narrative structure" to Bandy's discussion of the Korean classic novel The Dream of the Nine Clouds (Kuunmong)

by Kim Manjung (1637-1692):

[T]he receding frames of reality which structure The Dream of the Nine Clouds are similar to Indian narratives which used this format to parallel artistically geographical conceptions of the universe. Hindu geography, which pictures concentric worlds within worlds, is narratively replicated by the constandy awakening dreamer who finds himself within ever-broadening worlds. See Bandy, Embracing Illusion, 116; and O'Flaherty, Dreams, Illusions and Other Realities, 203, 197-205. A l s o relevant here is W u H u n g ' s insightful discussion of receding screens in traditional Chinese painting. See his The Double Screen, esp. 231-259. 131. Cf. Y e e ' s remarks on the "reproducibility and hence universality of [Baoyu's] experiences," in her "Counterpoise in Honglou meng," 650. 132. See Rolston, Traditional

Chinese Fiction and Fiction

Commentary,

331-335,

esp. 333. H e summarizes C h e n Xizhong: what the commentators meant by such statements was not that such things actually happened to them, but that "it is something that generally occurs to p e o p l e " (333). 133. Cf. Anthony C . Y u , Rereading the Stone: "Whereas Buddhism draws from its 'reading' the conclusion that detachment is ultimate w i s d o m , the experience of reading fiction, at least according to our author, is nothing if not the deepest engagement" (149). 134. Cf. the theme song of the Honglou meng (Dream of Golden Days) suite: " N o w woebegone / A n d quite cast d o w n / In low estate / I would my foolish heart expose, / A n d so perform / T h i s Dream of Golden Days, / A n d all my grief for my lost loves disclose" (HLM 5.84; SS 1:140).

EPILOGUE 1. Bandy, " B u d d h i s t Allegory in the Journey to the West,'''' 513. 2. Cf. A n t h o n y C . Y u ' s discussion of the p o w e r of reading in Honglou meng: h o w this activity induces, enhances, intensifies, and illuminates desire and passion; see his Rereading the Stone, esp. 194-218. 3. Zlotchew, " T h e Collaboration of the Reader in Borges and Robbe-Grillet," 169.

N O T E S TO P A G E S

207

167-170

4. Cf. McMahon, Misers, Shrews, and Polygamists, 230-250. 5. Known by various names, they are characterized by graphic descriptiveness. See, among others, Qi Yukun, Mingdai xiaoskuo shi, 306-311; Zhang Jun, Qingdai xiaoshuo shi, 166-171; Martin Huang, Desire and Fictional Narrative in Late Imperial China; Chi Xiao, The Chinese Garden as Lyric Enclave, 205-212. For a categorization of these novels, see Zhangjun, Qingdai xiaoshuo shi, 168-169. 6. For a study of this work, see Martin Huang, Desire and Fictional Narrative Late Imperial China, 111-136. 7. For studies on this novel, see Hegel, The Novel in Seventeenth-Century 166-187; Hanan, The Invention of Li Tii, 111-137.

in

China,

8. As Martin Huang puts it in his exhaustive treatment of books of this type, Desire and Fictional Narrative in Late Imperial China, 64: "[T]he persuasiveness of the moral is seriously undermined by the apparent contradictions between the often perfunctory didactic ending and the lengthy, titillating, and graphic descriptions that precede it." 9. Beidler, "Theme of the Fortunate Fall in The Marble Faun," 57. 10. See Ziporyn's discussions in his recent Evil and/or/as the Good, esp. chap. 6, "Value and Anti-value in Tiantai Thought," 240-343. 11. See Martin Huang's discussion of Liu Tingji's (b. 1653) reading o f J i n PingMei in his Desire and Fictional Narrative in Late Imperial China, 140-141; see also 54-65. 12. Springand Autumn ofLiiPu-wei [Liishi ChunqiuJ, quoted in Bauer, Chinaand the Search for Happiness, 419. For an alternative translation as well as the Chinese text, see Knoblockand Riegel, trans, and annot., The Annals ofLUBuwei, 411-412. 13. Crump, trans., Chan-kuo Ts'e, 221. For Chinese, see Zhanguo ce, I3.6b-7a. 14. Plaks, Four Master-works of the Ming Novel, 211. 15. The opinion of Lu Xun, Hu Shi, and Plaks, among others. Moreover, traditional novelists seem to have difficulties in concluding their works. On this issue, see Wu Xiaoru, "Zhongguo xiaoshuo shi shang de liangzhong xianxiang."

Glossary

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Hua Chun § Huaguoshan t b ^ l l l huan ¿ J Huang Yongnian |?f /j\ ^ fl'j ¡W: $ |/l Sift • Changsha: Hunan chubanshe, 1993. Chen Hong pjfj ^ . Fojiaoyu Zhongguo gudian wenxue |% cf-1 SI ¿rift ~SC ^ • Tianjin: Tianjin renmin, 1993. Chen Qinghao (Chan Hing-ho) J ^ i u • Xinbian ShitoujiZkiyanzhaipingyujijiao fir i & B S l 12 fp Enlarged ed. Beijing: Zhongguo Youyi, 1987. Chen Weizhao $f£ Hp . Lunhuiyuguizhen: Zhongguo "jingquan" wenxue chuantong de shengcun tiyanyuyiyi zhuiwen 0 M j l : cj=> ® " | f ffi]" >C ^ f $ 6'J l l M H ¡ S H ^ fMJ • Shantou: Shantou daxue, 1993. Chen Xizhong SJt $|j et al. Shuihu zhuan huiping ben 7j\ iff ill stf iff $ • 2 vols. Beijing: Beijing daxue, 1981. Chen Yinque |B f § (1890-1969). "Chanhui miezuiJinguangmingjing mingbao zhuan ba I S M IP ^ If. ils Injinmingguan conggao erbian, 256-257.

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