[Pramāṇa](https://indike.org/pramana/) › [Indian literature](https://indike.org/pramana/in) › [Buddhist Literature](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha) › [Taishō Tripiṭaka (Chinese Buddhist canon)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho) › [續高僧傳](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060) › 10.26 # 續高僧傳 10.26 續高僧傳 10.26 - **Language:** Classical Chinese ### [10.26](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.10.26) 釋淨願。未詳其氏。代州人也。三十出家。博聞強記。推覈經論夙有成規。遠為諸學之所先仰。創進大戒專師律部。既越立年彌隆盛業。以旦達曙翹精固習。觀採五遍便就講說。初以其壯室入道。人多輕侮。試聽其談說屬其文理。清洞開散片無擁滯。各投心位席莫不致敬。願連講四分接承十遍。又聽十地華嚴及諸小論。末師准攝論綱紐章句。並通了談對課篤形。有鑽注聖言依解製節廣流章疏。晚入京輔採略未聞。雖經懷抱無一新術。時未測其通照也。住于寶剎寺中。潛其容藝。後因法集願欲矜其名采。次當竪義。意存五陰。便登坐而立。眾以其非倫。皆寂無言論。良久緘默。願俯視眾曰。竪義已久。如何不有問乎。眾曰。竪何等義。乃邀問耶。願曰。名相久矣。眾自不知。諸德坐席口傳。余則色心俱立。便安然處坐。氣勇如雲。自述曰。計未勞止。此且修人事耳。時以為矯異露潔也。及難擊往還。對答雲雨。皆先定其番數。後隨數盡言。開塞任於當時。邪正由其通滯。或重疑積難由來不決者。而能詮達其理釋然新暢。於即預是聰慧歸蹤者多。遂移就寶昌。四序恒接。草堂土埵以此敷弘。正時攝論。晚夜雜心。或統解涅槃。或判銷四分。無擇餘暇軌範後賢。凡所開言並乖舊解。制疏出後更不重看。臨講呼喚皆衷規矩。其洽聞不忘世罕加焉。至如舍利毘曇文旨重隱。讀者猶難。況通其義。願執卷披文。泠然洞盡。乃造疏十卷。文極該贍。會文帝造塔。勅遣送舍利于潭州之麓山寺。初至州治度湘西岸。將及山所忽有奇鳥。數萬為群五色相翻。飛浮水上行次向船。似相迎引。及至舍利還飛向前。往還迅速。眾莫不怪及登岸上。鳥便行望。相從飛空同至塔所。識者以為山神眷屬之變象故也。願以瑞聞。帝大嗟賞。而教授為務。六時禮悔初儀不怠。敬慎法律如聞奉用。自見法匠多略戒宗。並由虧信而重所學故也。今願兼而美之獨覺澆世。可謂明人護戒於是乎得矣。京邑擅名初皆欽羨。及見其談講經術。並憲章先達改正文議。封言者眾不勝品藻。皆滯其恒習。聽者不滿十人。又以言令卓絕非造心者所覬故。不為晚進所入。及大業初歲。辯相法師追入慧日。見徒一百並識知津。皆委於願。自此如常開悟。眾倍前聞。更相擊贊令響彌遠。四方因造日就義筵。皆聞所未聞。欣至難義。至於分暢深伏標舉綱門。坐者不覺離席膝前。皆美其義采之英拔也。相仍一歲奄就無常。春秋六十有餘。即大業五年五月也。然願有博見之長。而寡於福業。驗乎從學。屯盛便喪。豈不然耶。既而舍利毘曇竟未披講。疏又失落後代絕通。又可悲之深矣。 > Shi Jingyuan, whose secular surname is unknown, was a native of Daizhou. He renounced household life at the age of thirty. Possessing wide learning and a robust memory, he had long-established standards in scrutinising the scriptures and treatises, and was early on venerated by all scholars. When he first entered the full monastic precepts, he studied exclusively under the Vinaya branch. Having passed his thirties, his lofty undertakings flourished even more. From dawn to daybreak he toiled with rigorous vigour, consolidating his study. After observing and culling \[the materials\] five times, he proceeded to lecture on them. At first, because he had entered the Path in his prime, many looked down on him with contempt. Yet when they tried listening to his discourses and observed his literary reasoning, it was clear, penetrating, expansive, and utterly free of impediment. Each threw their hearts \[at his feet\] from their seats, none failing to pay homage. Yuan gave sequential lectures on the \*Cāturvargīya-vinaya\*, holding ten series in succession. He also listened to the \*Daśabhūmika\*, \*Avataṃsaka\*, and various minor treatises. Later, he took the \*Mahāyānasaṃgraha\* as his standard, mastering its essential framework, chapters, and sentences. Proficient in scholarly debates, he pushed himself rigorously. He dissected and annotated the sacred words, formulating divisions according to understanding, and broadly circulated treatises and subcommentaries. Later, he entered the capital region to gather what he had not yet heard. Though he held \[many works\] in his breast, there was not a single new doctrinal technique \[to him\]. At that time, people had not yet fathomed his thorough illumination. He resided in Baocha Monastery, concealing his demeanor and arts. Later, on the occasion of a Dharma assembly, Yuan wished to display his brilliance. It came to the turn of establishing an argument; with his mind set on the five aggregates, he ascended the seat and stood. Because they considered him out of their class, the assembly fell silent without a word. After a long hush, Yuan looked down at the assembly and said: 'I have set up the proposition for a long time. Why are there no questions?' The assembly said: 'What proposition have you established, that you invite questions?' Yuan said: 'The nominal characteristics have been set for a long time; you simply did not realise it yourselves. You bhadantas rely on oral transmission while seated; I, however, set forth both form and mind simultaneously.' Thereupon he settled calmly in his seat, his courageous spirit surging like clouds. He remarked of himself: 'Calculations have not yet worn me out; this is merely attending to human affairs for now.' At that time, people regarded this as affected eccentricity and ostentatious purism. Yet when the volleys of objections flew back and forth, his responses poured like clouds and rain. In each case he first fixed the number of exchanges, and subsequently exhausted his arguments according to that number. Opening or blocking was left to the occasion; unorthodox and orthodox depended on his clearing or impeding. Where there were profound doubts and accumulated difficulties that had historically gone unresolved, he was able to articulate and penetrate their principles, bringing refreshing clarity. Thereupon, many among the intelligent and bright turned their steps toward him. He then moved to Baochang Monastery. Across the four seasons he continued without cease; it was upon earthen platforms in grass huts that he thus propagated the teaching. During the formal hours he lectured on the \*Mahāyānasaṃgraha\*, and late at night on the \*Saṃyuktābhidharmahṛdaya\*. At times he comprehensively explained the \*Nirvāṇa Sūtra\*, and at times he analysed and elucidated the \*Cāturvargīya-vinaya\*. Without choosing any spare leisure, he served as a model for later worthies. Whatever words he opened were contrary to old interpretations. Once his commentaries were written, he never looked over them again; when it came time to lecture and call out points, everything conformed to rule and measure. His erudition and retentive memory were rarely matched in the world. As for the \*Śāriputrābhidharma\*, its literary principles are doubly obscure; readers still found it difficult, let alone comprehending its meaning. Yuan took up the scrolls and opened the text, clearly fathoming it completely. He then composed a commentary in ten fascicles, its prose exceedingly rich and abundant. It happened that Emperor Wen was erecting pagodas, and an imperial decree dispatched \[monks\] to convey relics to Lushan Monastery in Tanzhou. When he first arrived at the administrative seat of the prefecture and crossed to the west bank of the Xiang River, approaching the site of the mountain, suddenly there were strange birds, flocking in tens of thousands, their five colours fluttering. Flying and skimming the water, they moved in ranks toward the boat, as if welcoming and guiding it. When they reached the relics, they flew ahead again, darting back and forth with great speed; none in the crowd failed to marvel. When they climbed onto the shore, the birds gazed from their perches and then flew together through the air, accompanying them to the pagoda site. Those with discerning knowledge considered this to be a transformed manifestation of the mountain spirit's retinue. Yuan reported this auspicious omen to the court, and the Emperor praised it greatly. Yet Yuan took instruction as his duty; he did not slacken in the initial protocols of the six daily periods of worship and repentance. He reverently observed the Vinaya rules, putting them into practice just as he had heard them. Seeing for himself that Dharma masters mostly neglected the Vinaya tradition—owing to a deficiency in faith and an overemphasis on theoretical study—Yuan combined both virtues, uniquely enlightened in a decadent age. He may indeed be called an illuminated person who upheld the precepts. Initially, when his fame resounded in the capital, all admired him. But when they saw that his lectures and explanations on scriptures and methods revised the ancient models and altered previous literary debates, those who clung to words were numerous and could not bear his evaluations; they remained mired in their habitual routines, and his listeners numbered fewer than ten. Moreover, because his speech was so lofty that it was not what beginner minds could aspire to, it was inaccessible to later entrants. In the early years of Daye, Dharmabhāṇaka Bianxiang was summoned to enter Huiri Monastery. Seeing a hundred disciples who all recognised the path of knowledge, he entrusted them all to Yuan. From then on, Yuan enlightened them as was his habit; the crowd was double what had been heard before. They spurred and praised one another, spreading his renown even further. People from all four quarters converged on his lecture hall day by day; all heard what they had never heard before and rejoiced at reaching the difficult doctrines. When it came to his articulating profound truths, subverting \[fallacies\], and holding high the essential tenets, those seated unwittingly rose from their mats and moved forward on their knees, all praising the outstanding brilliance of his doctrinal exposition. After a continuous year of this, he suddenly met with impermanence at the age of sixty-odd, in the fifth month of the fifth year of Daye. Yuan had the merit of vast insight, yet was meager in meritorious fortune. This is attested by his following disciples: no sooner did they flourish in numbers than he passed away—how could it not be so? Furthermore, the \*Śāriputrābhidharma\* was ultimately never expounded in public lectures, and his commentary was subsequently lost, cutting off its transmission to later generations. This, too, is a source of profound sorrow. > — English (machine translation) (machine translation) - [Previous: 10.25](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.10.25) - [Next: 10.27](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.10.27) - [Up: 10](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.10) ## Translations (1) - [English (machine translation)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060~en-mt.10.26) — English, machine translation --- Source: [https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.10.26](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.10.26) · Pramāṇa