宋高僧傳 7.28

7.28

釋恒超，姓馮氏，范陽人也。祖父不仕，世修儒道，而家富巨萬。超生而聰慧，居童稚群，不貪戲弄。年十五，早通六籍，尤善〈風〉、〈騷〉，辭調新奇，播流人口。忽一日因閱佛經，洗然開悟。乃歎曰：「人生富貴，喻等幻泡，唯有真乘，可登運載。」遂投駐蹕寺出俗。未周三祀，方議進修，晝夜不疲，而屬師亡，亦遵釋氏喪儀，守禮無怠。孝悌之名，燕人所美。梁乾化三年，往五臺山受木叉戒，由是陟遐自邇，切問近思。俄徵〈伐木〉之章，且狎成人之友，結契遠求名匠。阻兩河間，兵未罷，路不通。南則梁祖，北則莊宗，抗衡於輕重之前，逐鹿在存亡之際。當是時也，超止於本州、魏、博、并、汾之間，學大小乘經、律、論，計七本，講通思，於雍、洛、梁、宋名師，杳然隔絕。雖然，巡歷非遠，宏暢殊精，瓶滿見知，翼飛名字。是故并部息塵、中山貞辯，夫二人者，言行俱臻，證修有位，一見超，歎曰：「義龍之頭角悉完備矣，待飛奮而為霖雨焉！」其為碩德題目，多此類也。龍德二年，挂錫於無棣，超曰：「此則全齊舊壤，鄒、魯善隣。」遂止開元伽藍，東北隅置院，講諸經論二十餘年，宣導各三十餘遍。節操高邁，舉措舒徐，緇素見之，無不怯懼。聲無叱咤，語不夸奢，自然而然，且非威勢凌𨏦之所得也。前後州牧，往來使臣，嚮譽欽風，修名執刺，相禮重者，止令童子辭以講貫，罕曾接對。初有所慊，終伏其高，齊、魯之間，造秀不遠數百里，造其門以詰難。諸公一覩超容，傍聽議論，參乎子、史，證以教宗。或問「因明」，超答以詩一首，辭新理妙，皆悉歎降。時郡守李君素重高風，欲飛章舉賜紫衣。超聞驚愕，遂命筆為詩云：「虛著褐衣老，浮杯道不成。誓傳經論死，不染利名生。厭樹遮山色，憐窓向月明。他時隨范䗍，一棹五湖清。」李君復令人勸勉，願結因緣。超確乎不拔，且曰：「而其復爾，則吾在盧龍塞外矣。」郡將聞而止。又相國瀛王馮道聞其名，知是鄉關宗人，先遺其書，序以歸向之意。超曰：「貧道閑人，早捨父母，剋志修行。本期彌勒知名，不謂浪傳於宰衡之耳也。於吾何益？」門人敦喻，不得已而答書，具陳出家之人豈得以虛名薄利而留心乎？瀛王益加鄭重，表聞漢祖，遂就賜紫衣。自此忽忽不樂，以乾祐二年仲春三日微疾，數辰而終于本院。院眾咸聞天樂沸空，乃升兜率之明證也。春秋七十三，僧臘三十五。門人洞徵與學徒百餘人持心喪，傾城士庶僧尼會送城外，具茶毘禮，收舍利二百餘顆分施之。外緘五十顆，於本院起塔以葬之。瀛王末知，別奏賜師號曰德正，乃刊勅文于石塔焉。

Shi Hengchao, surnamed Feng, was a native of Fanyang. His grandfather did not serve in office; his lineage had cultivated the Confucian way for generations, and his family was exceedingly wealthy. Chao was intelligent from birth; among children, he had no fondness for playful games. At age fifteen, he was already thoroughly conversant with the Six Classics, and was especially skilled in the 'Airs' and the 'Elegies'; his phrasing and style were novel and unusual, and were repeated on people's lips. Suddenly, one day, upon perusing Buddhist scriptures, he was brightly awakened. He sighed and said: 'Human wealth and honor are like illusions and bubbles; only the True Vehicle can be mounted for conveyance.' Thereupon, he went to Zhubi Temple to leave the secular world. Before three years had elapsed, just as he was about to advance in his studies, working tirelessly day and night, his master died. He followed the Buddhist funeral rites, observing propriety without negligence. His reputation for filial piety and fraternal love was praised by the people of Yan. In the third year of Qianhua of the Liang, he went to Mount Wutai to receive the prātimokṣa precepts; from this, he advanced from near to far, inquiring with urgency and reflecting on what was at hand. Soon, invoking the chapter 'Felling the Trees,' he consorted with mature companions, forming bonds to seek famous masters from afar. He was obstructed between the two rivers, where the fighting had not ceased and the roads were impassable. To the south was the Liang founder, and to the north was Zhuangzong, rivaling each other in a contest of strength and pursuing the deer at the brink of survival. At that time, Chao stayed between his home prefecture, Wei, Bo, Bing, and Fen, studying seven works of Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna scriptures, vinaya, and treatises, lecturing on them and thoroughly penetrating their thought; from the renowned masters of Yong, Luo, Liang, and Song, he was completely cut off. Even so, though his travels were not distant, his propagation was exceptionally refined; his fullness of understanding became recognized, and his fame spread far and wide. For this reason, Xichen of Bingbu and Zhenbian of Zhongshan—two men whose words and actions were both perfected and who had attained high stages of realization—took one look at Chao and sighed, saying: 'The horns of this doctrinal dragon are fully formed; he only awaits taking flight to bring about drenching rain!' The evaluations given to him by great men of virtue were mostly of this sort. In the second year of Longde, he hung his staff at Wudi. Chao said: 'This is the ancient land of whole Qi, and a good neighbor to Zou and Lu.' Thereupon, he resided at Kaiyuan Monastery, set up a cloister in the northeastern corner, and for over twenty years lectured on various scriptures and treatises, preaching and guiding more than thirty times for each. His integrity was lofty and outstanding, his conduct composed and deliberate; monastics and layfolk who saw him were without exception struck with awe. His voice never shouted in anger, and his speech was never boastful; it was entirely natural, and not something obtained through domineering arrogance. Successive prefects and passing envoys, admiring his fame and revering his manner, would present their calling cards to show their deep respect, but he only had a boy decline them on the grounds of lecturing and recitation, and rarely received them. At first they felt slighted, but in the end they bowed to his loftiness. Between Qi and Lu, talented scholars did not consider several hundred li too far to come to his door to raise difficult questions. As soon as these gentlemen saw Chao's appearance and listened from the side to his discussions—referencing the Philosophers and the Histories, and confirming them with the teachings of the Buddhist tradition—or if someone asked about Hetuvidyā, Chao would answer with a single poem, novel in phrasing and marvelous in principle, and all would sigh and submit. At that time, the commandery governor Lord Li had long respected his lofty manner and wished to submit a memorial to recommend him for a purple robe. Chao heard of it with alarm and immediately put brush to paper to compose a poem: 'In vain I have grown old wearing coarse garments; / floating my bowl, the Way remains unaccomplished. / I vow to transmit the scriptures and treatises until death, / and never live tainted by gain and fame. / I dislike the trees that obstruct the mountain's colors; / I love the window facing the bright moon. / Some other day, following Fan Li, / with a single oar, the Five Lakes will be clear.' Lord Li again sent someone to urge him, wishing to establish a connection. Chao was steadfast and unyielding, and said: 'If you do so again, I shall be beyond the pass of Lulong.' Hearing this, the commandery commander stopped. Moreover, Prime Minister Feng Dao, the Prince of Ying, heard of his fame, and knowing that he was a fellow kinsman from his home region, first sent him a letter expressing his intention to take refuge in him. Chao said: 'I am a man of leisure who long ago abandoned parents to dedicate my will to practice. I originally expected only Maitreya to know my name; I did not anticipate it being idly transmitted to the ears of a prime minister. What benefit is this to me?' His disciples urged him earnestly, so he had no choice but to reply with a letter, explaining in full: how could a person who has left home set his mind on empty fame and meager profit? The Prince of Ying became all the more deferential, reported it to the Han founder in a memorial, and the purple robe was thereupon bestowed. From this time on, Chao was listless and unhappy. On the third day of the second month of the second year of Qianyou, he fell slightly ill, and within a few days passed away in his own cloister. The cloister's community all heard heavenly music surging in the sky, which was a clear sign of his rebirth in Tuṣita. His worldly years were seventy-three, and his saṅgha age was thirty-five. His disciple Dongzheng and more than a hundred students observed mental mourning; the gentry, commoners, monks, and nuns of the entire city assembled to escort him outside the city, where the cremation rites were carried out. More than two hundred grains of śarīra were collected and distributed. Separately, fifty grains were sealed, and a pagoda was erected in his cloister to enshrine them. The Prince of Ying, not yet having learned of this, had separately submitted a memorial requesting the master's name 'Dezheng' ('Virtuous and Rectified'), and this imperial edict was carved upon the stone pagoda.