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# 續高僧傳 14.19

續高僧傳 14.19

- **Language:** Classical Chinese

### [14.19](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.14.19)

釋道愻。姓張氏。河東虞鄉人也。神氣高邈器度虛簡。善通機會鑒達治方。子史流略嘗頗遊處。護法御眾誠其本據。雖大通群籍。偏以涅槃攝論。為栖神之宅也。與弟道謙發蒙相化。俱趣曇延法師。延正法城塹道俗宗歸。觀屬天倫可為法嗣。乃度為弟子。荷擔陪隨。遊栖宮闕講悟談述。皆簉下筵欣敘玄奧。每思擊節。故聽涉乃多而特覽其綱要。登預講釋屢結炎涼。三晉英髦望風騰集。晚住蒲州仁壽寺。聚徒御化樹業當衢。然以地居方會。賓旅湊從季俗情蕪多縱凡度。既行向背憎愛由生。愻道會晉川。行光河表。日延主客資給法財。皆委僧儲通濟成軌。或有所匱者。便課力經。始周告有緣。德洽民庶。為無不遂。所以方遠傳譽更振由來。自蕃王府宰臺省群僚。並紆駕造展。諮謁餘訓或怱遽不過者。心愧悚戰。如謂有所失矣。斯固德動物情。為若此也。愻癊道自資坐鎮時俗。雖復貴賤參請。曾無迎送。加以言笑溫雅談謔任時。接晤緣機並稱詞令。而奉禁守節不妄虧盈。頻致祥感時所重敬。大業末歲妖氣雲奔。因事返京夜停關首。所投主人家有五男。又勾外盜。見愻馬壯。欲共私之。夜往其所。乃見十人圍遶其馬形並雄怒擐甲執兵。眾盜同怖。因之退縮。細尋不見。又往趣之還見如初。無敢近者。進退至五遂達天明。既不見人。知是神感乃合面歸懺焉。其冥通顯益如此例也。又以仁讓之性出自天心。預見危苦。哀憐拯濟無擇怨憎。通情盡一。唐初廓定未拔蒲州。愻與寺僧被擁城內。時有一僧恒欲危害。非類加謗乃形言色。愻雖聞此曾不輟慮。既規不遂乃欲翻城。事發將戮並無救者。愻涕泣辭謝於執事曰。此僧為過事屬愻身。教導未通故為罪釁。此則過由愻起。宜當見戮。苦復設諫。執事知是其敵。而不忍見愻之云云。遂即釋放。自此已後更發仁風。據事引之。達量之弘者矣。逮貞觀中年冬。有請講涅槃者。預知將終苦不受請。前人不測意故鄭重延之。乃告曰。所以固辭者。不終此席耳。不免來意且後相煩。遂往王城谷中。道俗齊集。愻登座主題已告四眾曰。世界法爾不久當終。敢辭大眾。云何偈後請寄來生。遂依文敘釋。恰至偈初即覺失念。經纔三宿卒于山所。春秋七十有五。即其年十二月二十五日也。闔境同號若喪考妣。當夜雪降周三四里。乃掃路通行。陳屍山嶺。經夕忽有異花遶屍周匝披地踊出。莖長一二尺許。上發鮮榮。似欵冬色而形相全異。七眾驚奉悲慶諠山。有折將入城示諸耆宿。乃內水瓶中者。至明年五月猶不萎悴。後拔之於地。方始枯矣。其冥祥所感希世如此。晉州有人性愛遊獵。初不奉信。有傳遜之祥兆達其耳者。乃造山覓之。花滅屍亡唯覩空處。仍大哭曰。生不蒙開信。死不蒙花瑞。一何無感。必神道有徵。願重靈相。言訖地踊奇花還長尺許。欣慰嘉應。遂折取而歸通告鄉川。由斯起信。並近年目信可妄傳乎。愻弟道謙。學行之美少劣於兄。而講解十地有聞關表。以仁壽住寺既濱關路。每因此囂塵地接京都亟勞人事。乃顧言幽遁曆觀山水。谷號王城。因而栖處。時復登高臨遠。摛體風雲具引名篇。高調清逸道俗賓會。又聚山門談謔引心未曾虛老。以貞觀元年卒于山舍。春秋六十七。愻撫之洒淚。與弟子道基等闍毘遺陰。收其餘塵散之風府。追惟恩悌。為造釋迦塼塔一軀。勒碑樹德沙門行友為文。

> Śramaṇa Daoxun was surnamed Zhang and was a native of Yuxiang in Hedong. His spirit and demeanor were lofty and far-reaching, and his capacity was open, modest, and simple. He was skilled in grasping opportune moments and had penetrating insight into administrative methods. He had earlier traversed the streams and outlines of the Masters and Histories, yet protecting the Dharma and guiding the assembly were truly his fundamental ground. Although he was widely versed in numerous scriptures, he especially took the Nirvāṇa \[Sūtra\] and the Mahāyānasaṃgraha as the abode of his resting spirit. Together with his younger brother Daoqian, he dispelled ignorance and transformed each other, both going to Dharmabhāṇaka Tanyan. Yan was a rampart of the true Dharma, to whom both clergy and laity turned. Observing their natural fraternity and that they could serve as Dharma heirs, he ordained them as his disciples. Bearing burdens and accompanying him, they dwelt in the imperial palace quarters, expounding, awakening to, discussing, and narrating \[the teachings\]. Both sat in the lower seats, joyfully conversing on the profound and subtle, and whenever reflecting, they struck the rhythm. Thus, though \[Daoxun\] studied and traversed much, he especially grasped the essential outlines. Ascending to expound and explain, he passed through many hot and cold seasons; the outstanding talents of the Three Jin flocked to him like wind. Later, he resided at Renshou Monastery in Puzhou, gathering disciples to guide and transform, establishing his vocation at the thoroughfare. However, because the place was located at a regional confluence, where guests and travelers gathered and later customs were vulgar and decadent, many indulged in commonplace habits. Since partisanship was practiced, hate and affection thereby arose. Xun's Dao met the Jin river, and his conduct illuminated the lands beyond the river. Daily welcoming hosts and guests and supplying the Dharma-wealth, he entrusted it all to the monastic provisions, setting the standard for general relief. If there was any deficiency, he applied effort to initiate measures, everywhere informing those with karmic ties; his virtue reached the common people, and there was nothing that was not achieved. Therefore, his reputation spread far and wide, flourishing even more than before. From the princes of feudatory states and commandery magistrates to the officials of the Department of State Affairs, all bent their carriages to visit him and inquire after his remaining instructions. If any in haste did not pay a visit, their hearts felt ashamed, terrified, and trembling, as if having lost something. His virtue truly moved the feelings of creatures in such a manner. Xun rested upon the Dao to nourish himself and sat steady to calm the worldly customs. Even though the noble and lowly came to visit and consult him, he never went out to welcome or see them off. In addition, his conversation and laughter were gentle and elegant, and his banter accommodated the times. Meeting people according to circumstances, both his expressions and speech were praised, yet he strictly held to the precepts, keeping his integrity without improper excess or defect. He repeatedly brought about auspicious resonances, being heavily respected by the times. In the final years of the Daye era, strange vapors gathered like clouds. On account of business, he returned to the capital, stopping at night at the head of a pass. The master of the house where he lodged had five sons, who also colluded with outside bandits. Seeing that Xun's horse was strong, they wished to steal it together. Going to the place at night, they saw ten men surrounding the horse, all of robust and fierce appearance, wearing armor and bearing weapons. The bandits were all frightened and drew back because of this. Looking closely, they saw no one. When they approached again, they saw it just as before, and none dared draw near. Advancing and retreating up to five times, dawn finally broke. Seeing no one there, they realized it was a spiritual resonance, and throwing themselves face-down on the ground, they repented. His hidden resonances and manifest benefits were of this kind. Furthermore, his nature of benevolence and yielding arose from his inborn disposition. Foreseeing peril and distress, his compassion and relief made no distinction between resentment and affection, extending completely to all alike. At the beginning of the Tang, when the empire was being pacified and Puzhou had not yet been subdued, Xun and the monastery monks were confined within the city. At that time, there was a monk who constantly wished to bring harm to him, slandering him falsely, which showed in his words and countenance. Although Xun heard of this, he never paused in his concern \[for him\]. When the monk's scheme failed, he plotted to betray the city; the plot was exposed and he was about to be executed, with no one to rescue him. Xun wept, stepped forward to apologize to the officials in charge, and said, 'This monk committed an offense, but the fault lies with me, Xun. It was because my instruction and guidance were not comprehensive that he committed this crime. Thus, the error originated from Xun, and it is I who should be executed.' He repeatedly offered earnest remonstrances. The officials knew this was his enemy, but could not bear to see Xun speaking so repeatedly, and thereupon released him. From then on, an even greater benevolent atmosphere arose. Judging from these matters, his broad-mindedness was indeed magnificent! In the middle of the Zhenguan era, during the winter, someone requested him to expound the Nirvāṇa \[Sūtra\]. Knowing beforehand that his end was near, he firmly declined the invitation. The requester did not discern his intention and earnestly invited him again. He then announced, 'The reason I firmly decline is simply that I will not finish this lecture seat. Unable to refuse your intention, I shall trouble you later.' Thereupon he went to the Valley of Wangcheng, where clergy and laity assembled together. Xun ascended the seat, introduced the title, and then told the fourfold assembly, 'Such is the nature of the world; it will soon end. I venture to bid farewell to the great assembly. As for the verses that follow, I request to leave them for the next life.' Thereupon he expounded according to the text. Just as he reached the beginning of the verses, he felt a lapse of mindfulness. After only three nights, he died at the mountain location at the age of seventy-five, on the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month of that year. The entire district wailed together as if having lost their parents. That night, snow fell for three or four li around, so they swept the road to open passage, and laid the corpse out on the mountain ridge. After a night, strange flowers suddenly appeared surrounding the corpse on all sides, bursting forth from the ground, their stems about one or two feet long, with fresh blooms on top. They resembled the color of coltsfoot, but their form and appearance were entirely different. The sevenfold assembly, astounded, paid homage, and lamentation and celebration filled the mountains. Some snapped off blooms, brought them into the city, and showed them to the senior elders; those placed in a water vase still had not withered by the fifth month of the following year. Only after being pulled from the earth did they finally wither. Such was the rarity in this world of what his hidden auspicious signs induced. There was a man in Jinzhou whose nature was fond of roaming and hunting, and who initially did not believe. When the reports of Xun's auspicious signs reached his ears, he went to the mountain to look for them. The flowers had vanished and the corpse was gone; he only beheld an empty space. Thereupon he wept loudly, saying, 'In life, I did not receive awakening of faith; in death, I did not behold the flower marvel. Why am I so without resonance? If the spiritual way has proof, I pray the divine sign appear again.' As soon as his words ended, marvelous flowers sprang from the ground, again about a foot tall. Comforted and delighted by the excellent response, he snapped them off, returned home, and announced it throughout his village and prefecture; from this, faith arose. These were witnessed with faith in recent years; could they be falsely transmitted? Xun's younger brother, Daoqian, was only slightly inferior to his elder brother in the excellence of his learning and practice, and was known beyond the pass for expounding the Daśabhūmika. Since his residence at Renshou Monastery was adjacent to the pass road, and on account of the clamor and dust of this place bordering the capital, he was frequently fatigued by human affairs. Thereupon he reflected on seclusion and traversed the mountains and streams. The valley was called Wangcheng, and there he dwelt. From time to time, he climbed heights to gaze far off, expressing his feelings to the wind and clouds and quoting famous compositions. In lofty and refined harmony, clergy and laity gathered as guests. He also gathered at the mountain gate for light-hearted conversation, leading their minds so that he never grew old in vain. In the first year of the Zhenguan era, he died at the mountain hermitage at the age of sixty-seven. Xun caressed his body and shed tears, and together with his disciple Daoji and others, cremated the physical remains, gathering the remaining ashes and scattering them to the palace of the wind. Recalling his kindness and brotherliness, he erected a brick stūpa of Śākyamuni for him, and Śramaṇa Xingyou composed the text for a carved stele recording his virtues.  
> — English (machine translation) (machine translation)

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## Translations (1)

- [English (machine translation)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060~en-mt.14.19) — English, machine translation

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Source: [https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.14.19](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2060.14.19) · Pramāṇa
