續高僧傳 13.30

13.30

釋道岳。姓孟氏。河南洛陽人也。家世儒學專門守業。九歲讀詩易孝經。聰敏強識卓異倫伍。父暠仕隋為臨淄令。治聲遠肅。有隱士西門義者。博物疎通肥遁巖谷。前後令召莫能致之。至是步自山阿來儀府舍。謂鈴下吏曰。西門義故謁。遽為吾白。即以事聞。令素仰高風。駭其萃止。延席曰。先生道扇三古德重四民。何能輕舉。義曰。吾自弱歲隱淪。于茲暮齒。誠不欲干遊人世。抱誠棄智。頃者吠聲既靜。則良政字民。五袴興謠兩岐成詠。有欣美化。故不以韜隱自私。敢敘斯事。令述其不逮。問其治術。對答若神。情兼明舉。乃命諸子紹續績曠岳略等。列於義前。令其顧指。義曰。府君六子。誠偉器也。自長而三。州縣之職。保家自若也。已下之三。其志遠其德高。業心神道求解言外。固非世局之所常談也。曠年十七遂得出家。操行貞固志懷明約。善大論及僧祇。深鏡空有。學徒百數。禪觀著績物務所高。即洛陽淨土明曠法師是也。岳十五出家。依僧粲法師為弟子。少樂學問經論是欣。及具篇禁更宗律部。指途持犯性不議非。而體貌魁美風操高厲。容止儼然不妄交於道俗。後習成論雜心於志念智通二師。備窮根葉辭義斯盡。有九江道尼者。創弘攝論海內知名。以開皇十年至自楊都來化京輦。親承真諦業寄傳芳。岳因從受法。日登深解。以眾聚事擁。惟其廢習。將欲栖形太白服業倫貫。時太白寺慧安者。倜儻多知世數闊達。方丈一字方寸千文。醫術有工經道偏練。日行四百相同夸父。世俗所謂長足安是也。岳友而親之。便往投造告所懷曰。毘曇成實學知非好。攝大乘論誠乃精微。而傳自尼公。聽受又尠。今從物化請益無從。中路徘徊伊何取適。昔天親菩薩作俱舍論。真諦譯之。初傳此土。情寄於此耳。安曰。願聞其志。岳曰。余前學群部。悉是古德所傳。流味廣周未盡於後。惟以俱舍無解。遂豈結於當來耶。安曰。志之不奪。斯業成矣。後住京師明覺寺。閉門靜故尋檢論文。自讀其詞仍洞其義。一習五載不出住房。惟除食息初無閑暇。遂得釋然開發了通弘旨。至於外義伏文。非疏莫了。承三藏本義並錄在南方。思見其言。載勞夢寐。乃重賂遺南道商旅。既憑顧是重。所在追求。果於廣州顯明寺。獲俱舍疏本并十八部記。并是凱師筆迹。親承真諦口傳。顯明即凱公所住寺也。得此疏本欣戴仰懷。諷讀沈思忘於寢食。乃重就太白卒其先志。於即慶吊絕緒尋繹追功。口腹之累惟安供給。時穀食不豐菜色相顧。安庶事經營令無匱乏。綿歷歲序厥志彌隆。內慚諸己。乃謝安曰。岳今至愚為累獨學成譏。輒不量力欲悕非分。一不可也。食為民本名作實賓。苟求虛譽遂勞同志。二不可也。斯過弘矣。誠可退迹浮浮。更勞重累。則不可也。安曰。功業將成幸無異志。嘉會難再無思別慮。復延兩載方始出山。乃以己所尋知。將開慧業。遊諸講肆清論莫窮。大業八年被召住大禪定道場。今所謂大總持寺是也。時年三十有四。少齒登器莫匪先之。此時僧眾三百餘人。令聽風規互相推謝。岳以後至名重學不從師。雖欲播揚未之有許。時有同德沙門法常智首僧辯慧明等。並名稱普聞眾所知識。相為引重創為請主。岳撝謙藏器退辭師授。徒累清言終慚疎略。慧明等越席揚言曰。法師何辭耶。吾等情均水乳義結相成。掩德移機恐爽靈鑒。又人世飄寄時不再來幸不相累。岳顧諸意。正乃首登焉。遂以三藏本疏判通俱舍。先學後進潛心異論。皆曰。斯文詞旨宏密學爽師資。縱達一朝誠自誣耳。當伺其談敘得喪斯及矣。岳自顧請主虛宗初無怯憚。舉綱頓網大義斯通。雖諍論鋒臨而響應隨遣。眾咸不識其戶牖。故無理頓聯辭。由是名振學宗法筵繼席。歲舉賢良推師有寄。武德初年。從業藍谷化感寺側。巖垂乳水。岳往承之可得二升懸渧便絕。乃曰。吾無感也。故水輟流。遂以殘水寫渧下瀅中。一心念誦。日取一升經六十日。患損方復。又至二年。以三藏本疏文句繁多學人研究難用詳覽。遂以真諦為本。餘則錯綜成篇。十有餘年方勒成部。合二十二卷。減於本疏三分之二。並使周統文旨字去意留。兼著十八部論疏。通行於世。以為口實。又初平鄭國。有宗法師者。神辯英出時所異之。皇上延入內宮立三宗義。岳問以八正通局聖賢。後責纔施無言以對。坐見其屈。乃告曰。京室學士談衒寔希。三宗之大於何自指。及高祖之世。欲使李道東移被于鳥服。度人授法盛演老宗。會貞觀中廣延兩教。時黃巾劉進喜創開老子通諸論。道岳乃問以道生一二。徵據前後。遂杜默焉。岳曰。先生高視前彥。豈謂目擊取通乎。坐眾大笑而退。故岳之深解法相。傳譽京國矣。至六年秋八月。岳兄曠公從化。悲痛纏懷。徒屬慰曰。人皆有死。惟自裁抑。岳捫淚曰。同居火宅共溺愛流。生死未斷何得不悲。聞者議之。以為善居道俗之間也。貞觀初年。有梵僧波頗。在京傳譯。岳為眾舉。預其同例。頗聞善於俱舍。未始重之。謂人曰。此論本國學者之英華浮情。不敢措意。今言善者不有謬耶。因問以大義并諸異論。岳隨其慧解應答如流。頗曰。智慧人智慧人。不言此慧吾與爾矣。自爾情敦道術。厚密加恒。八年秋。皇太子召諸碩德集弘文館講義。岳廣開衢術。延對諸賓。酬接覆却神旨標被。太子顧曰。何法師。若此之辯也。左庶子杜正倫曰。大總持寺道岳法師也。法門軌躅學觀所宗。太子曰。皇帝為寡人造寺廣召名德。而此上人猶未受請何耶。倫曰。虞舜存許由之節。夏禹順伯成之志。彼乃俗流。猶從矯逸。況方外之士。棄名之人。臣輒從其所好耳。乃下令曰。今可屈知寺任。允副虛襟。岳動容辭曰。皇帝深惟固本。歸誠種覺。所以考茲福地建此仁祠。廣召無諍之僧。用樹無疆之業。貧道識量未弘德行無紀。今蒙知寺任誠所不安。願垂含恕。敢違恩旨。屢辭不免。遂住普光。以貞觀十年春二月搆疾彌留。諸治無効。春坊中使相望於路。遂卒于住寺。春秋六十九。皇太子令曰。普光寺上座。喪事所資取給家令。庶使豐厚無致匱約。仍贈帛及時服衣等。俄而有勅。復公給葬儀。送於郊南杜城之西隅。岳弟明略。身長七尺三寸。十九出家。志懷遠悟容儀清肅。特善涅槃。學人從集有聲京洛。住東洛天宮寺。貞觀九年入朝奉慰。時四海令達總集帝京。惟岳及略。連支比曜。時共美之。及事緣將了。言歸東夏。岳惘然曰。吾同氣四人。並先即世。唯余與爾相顧猶影。自曠師沒後。心常怏怏。恐藤鼠交侵欻然長逝。異生難會可不思耶。吾行年耄矣。其能久乎。集會又難。爾其且止。因斯便住。恰至明春岳便辭世。略之銜疚。痛鍾纏結帶疾還寺。以十二年卒于所住。春秋六十七矣。

Shi Daoyue's secular surname was Meng, and he was a native of Luoyang in Henan. For generations his family was devoted to Confucian scholarship, carrying on that specialisation as their heritage. At the age of nine he read the *Classic of Poetry*, *Classic of Changes*, and *Classic of Filial Piety*; being quick-witted with a powerful memory, he stood out remarkably among his peers. His father, Gao, served under the Sui as the magistrate of Linzi, and the fame of his governance was held in widespread and solemn esteem. There was a recluse named Ximen Yi, who was broadly knowledgeable, open-minded, and had retired to the crags and ravines to lead a life of contentment. Successive magistrates had summoned him, but none had been able to bring him forth. At this point, he walked down from the mountain ridges and arrived at the administrative office. He said to the hall attendant: 'Ximen Yi has come specially to pay a visit. Report this for me at once.' The matter was immediately announced. The magistrate had long admired his lofty character and was startled at his arrival. Laying out a mat for him, he said: 'Master, your Way has fanned across the Three Antiquities, and your virtue is held in high esteem by the four classes of people. Why have you made such an effort to come?' Yi said: 'Since my youth I have lived in reclusion down to this advanced age. Truly I have had no desire to mingle with the human world, embracing sincerity and abandoning cleverness. Recently, the barking of dogs has ceased, and through good governance the people have been nurtured. Songs of the five garments have arisen, and verses on the two ears of grain have been sung. Delighted by this benevolent transformation, I did not wish to keep my reclusion to myself, and have ventured to present this matter.' The magistrate spoke of his own shortcomings and asked him about the art of governance. Yi's replies were brilliant as if divine, his understanding encompassing both clarity and discernment. Thereupon the magistrate ordered his sons—Shao, Xu, Ji, Kuang, Yue, Lue, and the others—to line up before Yi and asked him to observe them. Yi said: 'Your Honour's six sons are truly magnificent vessels. From the eldest down through the third, they will hold posts in commanderies and counties, preserving the family in peace. As for the three below them, their aspirations are far-reaching and their virtue is exalted. Devoting their minds to the spiritual path, they seek understanding beyond words; they are certainly not such as the common worldly station ordinarily speaks of.' When Kuang reached the age of seventeen, he was able to leave home; his conduct was pure and firm, and his mind embraced clarity and discipline. He excelled in the *Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa* and the *Mahāsāṃghika Vinaya*, profoundly reflecting upon emptiness and existence. His students numbered in the hundreds, and his achievements in dhyāna contemplation were esteemed in all worldly affairs; he was the dharmabhāṇaka Mingkuang of Jingtu Monastery in Luoyang. Yue left home at fifteen, taking the dharmabhāṇaka Sengcan as his teacher. From his youth he delighted in learning, rejoicing in sūtras and treatises. Upon receiving the full precepts, he further honoured the Vinayapiṭaka; pointing out the paths of observance and transgression, he was by nature one who did not gossip about faults. His physical appearance was handsome and imposing, and his character and discipline were exalted and strict; his demeanor was solemn, and he did not associate indiscriminately with either clergy or laity. Later, he studied the *Satyasiddhiśāstra* and the *Saṃyuktābhidharmahṛdayaśāstra* under the two masters Zhinian and Zhitong, exhaustively exploring their roots and foliage, their words and meanings fully mastered. There was Daoni of Jiujiang, who had first propagated the *Mahāyānasaṃgraha* and was renowned throughout the realm. In the tenth year of the Kaihuang era he came from the capital of Yang to convert the imperial metropolis; having personally received the teachings from Paramārtha, the transmission of the fragrance of the legacy was entrusted to him. Yue accordingly studied the Dharma under him, daily attaining profound understanding. But because crowds gathered and business was congested, he was concerned that this would hinder his studies; he wished to withdraw to Taibai and continue his systematic work there. At that time, Huian of Taibai Monastery was an unconventional man of wide knowledge, detached from worldly calculations. On a single square zhang he could inscribe a single character, or on a single square cun he could inscribe a thousand characters. He was skilled in the medical arts and particularly practiced in the scriptures and the Way; he could walk four hundred li a day, like Kuafu. People in the world called him 'Long-legged An'. Yue befriended him and was close to him, so he went to him, lodged there, and revealed his intentions, saying: 'The study and knowledge of the Abhidharma and *Satyasiddhi* are not what I love best; the *Mahāyānasaṃgraha* is indeed subtle and profound, yet it was transmitted from the venerable Ni, and my study of it was brief. Now that he has passed away, I have no way to seek further instruction. Wandering midway along the road, how am I to find what suits me? In the past, the bodhisattva Vasubandhu composed the *Abhidharmakośaśāstra*, which Paramārtha translated, and it was first transmitted to this land; it is upon this that my heart is set.' An said: 'I would like to hear of your aspiration.' Yue said: 'The various treatises I studied previously were all handed down by the ancients of old; their lingering flavours spread far and wide, but have not reached the very end for later generations. It is only because the *Abhidharmakośa* lacks an explanation that the knots might remain tied for future times.' An said: 'If your aspiration is not deflected, this undertaking will be accomplished.' Later, he resided at Mingjue Monastery in the capital. Shutting his door in quietude, he searched and investigated the text of the treatise; reading its words by himself, he thoroughly penetrated its meaning. In a single stretch of study for five years, he did not step out of his room; except for eating and resting, he had no leisure at all. Thereupon he attained sudden illumination, fully understanding its vast purport. As for outer meanings and implicit texts, they could not be understood without a commentary. Hearing that the Tripiṭaka master's original commentary had all been recorded in the South, he longed to see its words, troubling over it day and night in his dreams. He then gave substantial gifts to merchants travelling the southern routes; as they relied on such generous remuneration, they sought it everywhere. In the end, at Xianming Monastery in Guangzhou, they obtained the original manuscript of the commentary on the *Abhidharmakośa* along with the records on the eighteen schools, all in the handwriting of master Kai, who had received the oral transmission directly from Paramārtha. Xianming was indeed the monastery where master Kai had resided. Having obtained this commentary manuscript, he was overjoyed and filled with reverence; reciting it and pondering it deeply, he forgot to sleep and eat. He then returned once more to Taibai to fulfill his original aspiration. Thereupon he severed all ties of congratulations and condolences, tracing the lines of reasoning and continuing his work. The burdens of food and drink were provided solely by An. At that time grain was scarce and people looked at one another with famished faces; An managed all affairs so that there would be no deficiency. As the months and years passed, Yue's aspiration became ever more exalted. Feeling inner shame, he thanked An, saying: 'I, Yue, am of the utmost stupidity, causing trouble, and my solitary study invites ridicule; recklessly failing to measure my strength, I seek beyond my proper bounds—this is the first impropriety. Food is the foundation of the people, and fame is the guest of reality; seeking empty reputation and thereby wearying my fellow traveler—this is the second impropriety. These faults are great indeed. Truly, I should withdraw my drifting presence; to trouble you further with burdens would be improper.' An said: 'Your great work is on the verge of completion; fortunately, do not change your mind. A fine encounter is difficult to have again; think of nothing else.' Extending his stay for another two years, he finally left the mountain. Thereupon, with what he had discovered and understood, he was ready to open the path of wisdom. Traveling among the lecture halls, his pure expositions were inexhaustible. In the eighth year of the Daye era, he was summoned to reside at the Da Zhanding Daochang, which is now what is called the Da Zongchi Monastery. At that time he was thirty-four years of age; among those of younger years who attained prominent standing, none was placed before him. At this time there were over three hundred monks in the community; each deferring to the other, they were reluctant to lecture. Because Yue had arrived later, was renowned, and had studied without a teacher, although he wished to propagate the teachings, he was not yet permitted to do so. At that time there were fellow-virtuous śramaṇas Fachang, Zhisui, Sengbian, and Huiming, all widely renowned and known to the assembly, who joined together to recommend him and initiated the request for him to act as the master. Yue showed humility and concealed his talents, declining the invitation to be the presiding teacher, saying that to trouble them with his pure speech would ultimately cause him shame for his superficiality. Huiming and the others stepped beyond their seats and declared aloud: 'Why does the dharmabhāṇaka decline? Our feelings are blended like water and milk, and in righteousness we assist one another. To obscure your virtue and let the opportunity pass by would, we fear, offend the spiritual discernment. Moreover, human life is a fleeting sojourn and time does not come again; we pray that you will not refuse us.' Looking at their intentions, Yue adjusted himself and took the leading seat. Thereupon, using the Tripiṭaka master's original commentary, he decided and explained the *Abhidharmakośa*. Earlier scholars and later students had immersed their minds in different treatises, and all said: 'The phrasing and purport of this text are vast and profound, and his learning departs from that of his masters. Even if he masters it in a single morning, he is surely deceiving himself. We shall wait and listen to his discourse; then its strengths and shortcomings will be revealed.' Yue looked upon the presiding masters of the empty doctrines without the slightest trepidation; lifting the head-rope, he cast the net, and the great meaning was fully opened. Although conflicting arguments confronted him sharply, his responses dispelled them at once. None among the assembly could find the entrance to his reasoning, and so none could readily form an argument to dispute him. Because of this, his fame shook the schools of learning, and he occupied the lecture seats without interruption. In the annual recommendations of the virtuous and talented, this master was chosen as the one on whom reliance could be placed. In the early years of the Wude era, he practiced beside Huagan Monastery in the Blue Valley. From the crags dripped stalactite milk-water; Yue went to catch it, and when he had obtained about two sheng, the dripping immediately ceased. He then said: 'I have no spiritual resonance, and therefore the water has stopped flowing.' He then poured the remaining water into a clear vessel beneath the drips, and with single-minded devotion recited and chanted. He took one sheng a day, and after sixty days, his illness subsided and he recovered. Furthermore, in the second year, because the sentences of the Tripiṭaka master's original commentary were voluminous and difficult for scholars to examine in detail, he took Paramārtha's text as the foundation, weaving the rest into chapters. Only after more than ten years did he finish compiling it into a work of twenty-two fascicles, reducing two-thirds of the original commentary, yet making the phrasing and purport thoroughly comprehensive, removing words while retaining the meaning. In addition, he composed a commentary on the *Aṣṭādaśanikāyaśāstra*, which circulated throughout the world and was praised by all. Moreover, when the Zheng state was newly pacified, there was a dharmabhāṇaka Zong whose divine eloquence was outstanding and considered extraordinary by contemporaries. The Emperor invited him into the inner palace to establish the doctrine of the Three Theses. Yue questioned him concerning whether the Eightfold Path applies comprehensively or restrictedly to the sages and ordinary beings; no sooner was the critique posed than Zong had nothing to say in reply. Seeing his defeat from his seat, Yue said to him: 'Scholars in the capital rarely display their talk; upon what does the greatness of the Three Theses point itself?' In the era of Emperor Gaozu, the Emperor wished to move the Way of Li eastward to cover the bird-clad barbarians; ordaining people and conferring the Dharma, he vigorously promoted the Laozi lineage. In the Zhenguan era, both teachings were extensively invited. At that time, the Yellow Turban Liu Jinxi first gave lectures on Laozi to connect it with various treatises. Daoyue questioned him about 'the Way producing the one and the two', interrogating the evidence before and behind, whereupon Liu was reduced to silence. Yue said: 'You look down upon the luminaries of the past; could it be that you think understanding can be achieved merely by glancing at it?' The gathered assembly broke into laughter and dispersed. Thus Yue's profound understanding of dharmalakṣaṇa was renowned throughout the capital. In the eighth month of the autumn of the sixth year, Yue's elder brother, the venerable Kuang, passed away; sorrow wrapped his heart. His disciples comforted him, saying: 'All humans must die; you should restrain yourself.' Wiping his tears, Yue said: 'Dwelling together in the burning house, we sink together in the stream of craving. With birth and death not yet severed, how could I not grieve?' Those who heard of it discussed it, considering that he positioned himself skillfully between the monastic and the secular. In the early Zhenguan era, there was an Indian monk named Prabhākaramitra who was translating scriptures in the capital. Yue was recommended by the community to be included among his associates. Prabhākaramitra heard that Yue was skilled in the *Abhidharmakośa*, but at first did not esteem him, saying to others: 'This treatise is the finest flower among the scholars of my homeland; those of shallow inclinations dare not direct their thoughts to it. Now people say he is skilled in it—is this not an error?' Thereupon he questioned him on the great meanings and the various differing doctrines. Yue answered fluently according to his wisdom and understanding. Prabhākaramitra said: 'A man of wisdom! A man of wisdom! I would not say this wisdom was given by me to you.' From then on, their regard for each other's path and arts grew deep, their intimacy exceeding what was ordinary. In the autumn of the eighth year, the Crown Prince summoned various venerable masters to assemble at the Hongwen Hall to lecture on doctrinal meanings. Yue broadly opened the thoroughfares of debate, receiving and responding to all guests; his rebuttals and admissions were marked with spiritual inspiration. The Crown Prince looked around and said: 'Which dharmabhāṇaka is this, who possesses such eloquence?' The Left Assistant Director Du Zhenglun said: 'He is the dharmabhāṇaka Daoyue of Da Zongchi Monastery, the exemplar of the Dharma gate and the model of doctrinal contemplation.' The Crown Prince said: 'The Emperor built a monastery for us and broadly summoned men of renowned virtue, yet why has this superior man not yet accepted an invitation?' Du said: 'Yu Shun preserved Xu You's integrity, and Yu of Xia complied with Baocheng's aspiration. Even among secular persons, their lofty nonconformity was indulged; how much more so for a gentleman beyond the worldly realm, a man who has abandoned fame? I merely complied with what he preferred.' Thereupon a decree was issued, saying: 'He may now be prevailed upon to manage the monastery's affairs, fulfilling our earnest desire.' Yue altered his countenance and declined, saying: 'The Emperor deeply reflects upon consolidating the foundation and turns his sincere devotion to the seed of enlightenment; for this reason, he examined this blessed ground and established this benevolent shrine, broadly summoning non-disputing monks to plant an endless heritage. My, this poor monk's, discernment is not broad and my virtuous conduct is unremarkable; now receiving the administration of the monastery truly makes me uneasy. I pray that you will show forbearance and forgiveness, for how would I dare disobey your gracious decree?' Though he declined repeatedly, he could not avoid it, and so he took up residence at Puguang Monastery. In the second month of the spring of the tenth year of Zhenguan, he fell lingeringly ill, and all medical treatments proved ineffective. Messengers from the Eastern Palace were visible on the road in succession; he then died at his monastery at the age of sixty-nine. The Crown Prince decreed: 'Regarding the elder of Puguang Monastery, the resources required for his funeral affairs shall be provided by the household director, to ensure they are bountiful and incur no lack or frugality.' Furthermore, silks and seasonal garments were bestowed. Shortly after, an imperial edict was issued, granting public provision for the funeral ceremonies, and he was escorted to the western corner of Du City south of the suburbs. Yue's younger brother Minglue was seven chi three cun tall. He left home at nineteen; his mind embraced distant awakening, and his demeanor was pure and solemn. He was especially adept in the *Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra*; students gathered around him, and he gained renown in both Chang'an and Luoyang. He resided at Tiangong Monastery in Eastern Luoyang. In the ninth year of the Zhenguan era, he entered the court to present condolences. At that time, eminent scholars from across the four seas were all assembled in the imperial capital; only Yue and Lue shone side by side like twinned branches, and contemporaries praised them together. When his affairs were nearly concluded, he was about to return to the eastern regions. Yue said dejectedly: 'Of the four of us brothers of the same qi, all have passed away before us; only you and I remain, looking at each other like shadows. Since master Kuang passed away, my heart has constantly been melancholy. I fear that the vine and the rats will suddenly consume me and I shall swiftly pass into the long sleep; beings of different lives are hard to meet again, can we not consider this? I am already advanced in years, how could I last long? To gather together again will be difficult; please stay for a while.' Because of this, Minglue remained. Just when the following spring arrived, Yue passed away. Harbouring deep grief, Minglue's sorrow clustered and entangled him; bearing illness, he returned to his monastery. In the twelfth year he died at his residence, at the age of sixty-seven.