A Comprehensive Collection of Chinese Travel Essays. Shanxi Volume, Shaanxi Volume

Author: / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-08-01
Features: Snow-capped mountains half-covered in jade-like frost, the path blocked; with rugged rocks, horses cannot ascend. We paused at the on the hillside, with Wu Lama and the young monks from Yuhua Pool leading the way, followed by Li Bingyi, Zilai, Li Fu, and the team leader Gao Wanshan, Wei Tingrui surrounding the mountain and advancing. Where the mountain path could not be circumvented, I walked. After another twenty-nine li, we reached Mount Tai. Looking around, the myriad mountains were towering and indescribable. The East Platform is southeast of the Middle Platform, the North Platform is northeast of the Middle Platform, the South Platform is southwest of the Middle Platform, and the West Platform is northwest of the Middle Platform. The West Platform is the farthest, faintly visible; the East Platform has two platforms, roughly similar in size; the North Platform is long like a embankment, flat like a palm, the highest; the South Platform is also high. Among the mountains, there are many peaks with the name "Cooling Peak"; yet the Five Platforms are named after the peaks, so the name "Cooling" is obscured, and the surrounding peaks cannot compete with them. The Middle Platform is also two platforms. Although there are peaks, there is a flat mountain to the west of the peak, covering an area of over 100 acres, this is what is called "Platform." The platform of the North Platform is clear at a glance. The other three platforms are likely the same, but I could not visit them all. In fact, it was late autumn and the weather was cold, and the desert is also a cold place. Without my determination to persevere, I would not have been able to ascend. Even when I climbed the platform, the coldness of the sky, the slipperiness of the steps, need not be mentioned; the fierce wind on the platform pricked the skin and bone, making my eyes blur and nose run, as if I were in doubt, truly feeling that it was unbearable to stay. The time for climbing the platform is from April to July, and other months are not suitable. Generally, sacred and mysterious places in the world may prohibit people from visiting. I have always been timid and weak, and my previous visits to the southeastern mountains, as well as this time to worship at the Five Platforms and climb their summits, all made my soul tremble and my heart and mind shocked, beyond my control. In the past, Changliu went mad when climbing Mount Hua and could not descend, how could that be! When I first arrived, the Grand Lama of Putuo Top offered me a sheep, two packages of tea, and a bushel each of rice and flour, with messengers Demqul and Balongdo. I politely declined and sent them away. On the 22nd, I went to thank them. Coming from the northwest path, winding and turning, I reached the foot of the mountain gate, where there were over a hundred steps, and two people supported me. The two monks Dem and Balong had been waiting for a long time and led me into the main hall to worship Manjusri, then followed to another hall. The monks chanted Tibetan scriptures, which were likely words of reverence for the Buddha to seek blessings. After drinking tea in the guest hall, I donated ten gold pieces and bid farewell to visit Xiantong Temple. Inside the temple, there was a bronze hall with beams, rafters, and statues, all made of bronze. The donors competed to gild them, so the golden light was dazzling. The courtyard was covered with gold, yet it was not as brilliant as this. I went to another temple and saw a lotus flower over a meter high behind the Buddha's seat. The Buddha sat in the lotus, and when the lotus opened to the right, it bloomed; when it opened to the left, it closed, like a dragon lantern during the Lantern Festival. The Lama's name was Han Cheng, known as Pian, who was good at talking and had the calligraphy of Emperor Ren in his possession. When I saw it, it was the script of the Sutra of the Lotus Sutra, and the temple was named Luo Hu, hence the reason. Wu Lama said that there was a Buddha who had attained enlightenment in the stone cave of Cifufu Temple, so I went to see it, but it was a fake to deceive people. I then went to the Pagoda Temple to see the pagoda. The pagoda was also very impressive, similar to the White Pagoda in Beihai, with many small Buddha niches around it. In front of each niche, there was a bronze pillar storing scriptures, with pillars on top and bottom, and when pushed, they rotated like a mill. One rotation of the pillar was one recitation of the scripture, and the principle was also incomprehensible. The monk in charge, Shengxiu, was from Baoding. In the Shuli Temple, the Blue Manjusri was the main image, and I went to worship it, but it was just a golden body. The upper eyelid of Manjusri drooped in the middle, so the eyes had waves, and all the images were the same, perhaps the original spirit. I asked about the Blue Manjusri, and the monk said, "Putuo Top is the Yellow Manjusri, Xiantong Temple is the Green Manjusri, Luo Hu Temple is the White Manjusri, Pagoda Temple is the Black Manjusri, and the Blue one is called the Five Colors. Is it the incarnation of the Bodhisattva?" Or did the monks deliberately multiply the names to confuse the world? The Five Platforms have been sacred since Manjusri attained enlightenment, and there have been many miraculous responses. The monks have also attached and fabricated stories, making the incense burn even more prosperous. In the north, people believe in Buddha, and the Tatar tribes are particularly devout, often spending their entire families to serve the Buddha. Therefore, temples have been increasing, and statues have been standing, with over a hundred temples since the Han and Tang dynasties. In our dynasty, after establishing the capital, the emperors visited, and the palaces and courts were extremely luxurious. The yellow changed to green, and eight hundred people ate from the imperial kitchen. Thus, the land where tigers and dragons were subdued, where magic bowls flew and wild geese swam, became a gathering place for auspicious animals and deer. Since the imperial carriage no longer came, the sacred mountain fell silent, but the living Buddha and monks were like hungry ghosts in hell, seizing people to eat. Some were ambushed on the road, some waited at the door, some competed to throw incense to be the first to offer, or beat the wooden fish to provoke, and there were countless other vicious behaviors. I have seen how shameless the world is, hooking and collecting, yet I never fail to laugh at them. Those outside the world regard purity as the highest, yet they act like merchants, fishing for their goals, and the Buddha's teachings are trampled, how can I not sigh! How can I not sigh! On the 23rd, I donated to each temple, with varying amounts. I packed and prepared to leave. Putuo Top gave wooden bowls, kelp, golden lotus, and recording pearls. I refused with a gift of jade, as I had already received rice and flour before. Cifufu Temple gave a map of the Five Platforms, and Luo Hu Temple gave prayer beads and four wooden plates. The monk Han Rongshou from Xiuyin Temple gave wooden boxes, wooden spoons, and medicinal noodles, all as a way to repay the donation, and I accepted them. At noon, I set off, and at sunset, I stayed at Taifu Temple, where I talked and laughed heartily with the two Lamas. I recited the poem "Farewell to the Five Platforms," and the Lamas wanted to carve it into the Middle Platform. The poem goes: "I came to the Five Platforms, and saw Manjusri in everything. My disciples have a deep root, but my master abandoned me. I wandered in the dust of the world, my hair and beard have turned gray. My body and fame, in everything, have become eternal. Like a bird in a cage, when will I soar free? Like a fish in a net, when will I roam the rivers and lakes? I am ashamed of my lack of talent as a sage, and my wishes for immortality and Buddha are also empty. I have lived sixty years in vain, wasting this thousand-bodied existence. Climbing the high mountain, I wept and returned to my old home!"
Excerpted from Journal of Geographical Magazine, April-May 1924 issue.
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Translation of the additional text:
On the 19th of the ninth month of the Bingzheng year, I crossed the Great Wall Ridge and arrived at Yishou Temple. The terrain grew higher and higher, winding and turning, and it took over twenty li to ascend from the morning to noon. The two donkeys were drenched in sweat, and I let them rest after getting off the sedan chair, accompanying Li Xiaoguan and a few others to climb the Great Wall. I saw the Great Wall winding up and down the mountains like a long dragon, how majestic it was! However, it had collapsed everywhere and was beyond repair. There was a broken stele on the Great Wall with an inscription at the top reading "Record of the Great Wall Stele," but most of the text was worn away and unreadable. It roughly stated that Longquan Pass was strategically important. Beside the broken stele lay an iron cannon with an inscription: "Chongzhen Wuyin, Commanding General Fang Changdonated," and below it: "Supervised by Shangbang Shang Bangtai." Strolling along the wall, touching the broken stele and the cannon, I could not help but feel a sense of sorrow. I wrote a poem: "Strategically important Longquan Pass of ancient times, relics of two dynasties guard the remote border. Firearms on the Great Wall were useless, fate alone listens to the heavens." Passing the Great Wall Ridge, I also wrote a five-line poem: "At dawn, I crossed the Great Wall Ridge, light cold like early autumn. Climbing the peak, I chased the flying birds, turning the ravines, losing sight of the leader. Ancient temples bloom with flowers, deep waters flow in the mountains. Unfastening the saddle to rest, the wind blows through the pines." That night, I planned to stay at Shizuzi. Just as I was on the way, I passed a Guandi Temple where a play was being performed, and I got off the sedan chair to watch. Suddenly, a Lama named Zhang Zashier, claiming to know me, asked me to sit among the crowd with great respect. After a few polite exchanges, I asked where the sacred mountain was. He said it was Taifu Temple and that the temple was just a few steps away, inviting me to visit. After the play finished, he took me there. The temple was grand and spacious, freshly painted and gilded, a magnificent place. As soon as I entered the mountain gate, I saw a large tiger skin stretched on a rack. I asked about it, and he replied, "This village is called 'Shahu Chuan.' The benevolent emperor passed through the Five Platforms and saw a tiger, shooting it dead, and the village was named after it." A double-eaved hall stood at the foot of the hill, surrounded by lush pines and cypresses like a screen. Just as I was admiring it, a yellow-robed Lama came out to greet me, and we entered the meditation hall. It turned out to be the Grand Lama of Taifu Temple, from Cizhou, a descendant of Lian Xiangru. His name was Luo Rangchu. Cizhou borders Ye County, and the Lama treated me with great warmth as if I were a fellow townsman, insisting I stay. I repeatedly declined, but my luggage and sedan chair had already arrived. The guest room was prepared, and a lavish banquet was set with mutton and wine, leaving me drunk and full. The Lama then busied himself arranging my visit to the Five Platforms. On the morning of the 20th, we set off from Shahu Xun. Captain Hou Huwen led with crossbows, and the Lama ordered Wu Lama, named Luo Rangwangzi, to guide us. There were five horses on the platform, five horses with the army, and two horses with Wu Lama, totaling twelve horses, all advancing together. The path was winding through mountains and rivers, with sparse settlements and a desolate landscape. As written in "Li Ling's Reply to Su Wu," "In the cool autumn of September, grass withers outside the frontier. The ice of the northern land is dark, and the border is harsh." This scene I saw with my own eyes. At that time, I composed a poem in my mind: "At the edge of the deep ravine, winding paths follow the mountain base. The northern wind whistles through the old trees, sunlight shines on the desolate village. The mountains close, as if there is no path, but when the pines part, a door appears. The weary traveler is truly hasty, I wish to return to my homeland." Taifu Temple is only fifty li from the Five Platforms, and it took five hours from morning to afternoon to reach it. How difficult the mountain path must be can be imagined.