北山錄 6.4.8

6.4.8

[... it is called a spirit-way stele. For the Son of Heaven it is called a tumulus (ling); for feudatories and grand masters it is called a grave (fen); for commoners it is called a mound (zhong). Tomb epitaphs did not originate from the canonical rites. When monks nowadays erect pagoda inscriptions, they are merely copying such practices.) To open a tomb road was not done unless one was the hope of the state (that is, constructing an underground approach road before the grave; these were all men who were the hope of the state. Furthermore, there are eulogies, elegiac decrees, stelae, and epitaphs; none may have them unless they are Great Beings. Anciently, monks were not granted purple robes or master titles; it was only from the eleventh year of the Yuanhe era under Xianzong that purple robes were granted, though posthumous titles were granted earlier). After the Zhou and Sui dynasties, people vied with one another in arrogant mimicry. There were those whose towering splendor, magnificent and grand, overshadowed the former sages (recently, a Chan elder, before his demise, himself ordered the carving of blue stone to build a great pagoda, encircled by floating clouds, joined with a lotus throne, guarded by the Four Heavenly Kings, and supported on the shoulders of eight dragons; yet in the end, because of royal misfortune, he was returned to the laity and could not occupy it). Some exerted themselves during their lifetime, while others left instructions after their death; without grieving over the cruelty to aggrieved souls, they only rushed into the expense of parsimonious exactions—no error could be greater than this! Anciently, when Zengzi’s illness became grave, he still ordered the removal of the grand master’s mat to show he did not wish to overstep his station (ge means critical; the ze was a bamboo mat upon the bed; ge is pronounced ji). Yan Pingzhong said of Guan Zhong (this means he evaluated him, not speaking to his face), 'Once one is dead, how can it concern oneself? Burn him, sink him, inter him, bury him, or expose him (in the Western Regions there are four methods of burial: first, floating in water; second, burning with fire; third, burying in earth; fourth, placing in the śītavana. The Five-Part Vinaya says corpses should be buried in the earth).' Wrap him in firewood and cast him into gullies and ravines (ancient burials wrapped the corpse thickly with firewood and buried it in the open wilds, without raising a mound or planting trees. The sages replaced this with inner and outer coffins, probably drawing from the hexagram Daguo. The Record of Trades states that the Director of Ceramics made earthenware coffins; the sages of the Xia dynasty used baked clay; what is baked through with fire is called ji. The people of Yin replaced the wood with coffins of catalpa, and also replaced the earthenware with wooden outer coffins), or wrap him in embroidered robes and place him in a stone sarcophagus—it is merely according to what one meets with! Yet the ignorant fools in their chambers (Zhuangzi refers to those who remain inside their chambers without going out and are ignorant) do not know that Daolin’s grave was not high, yet Dai Kui sighed [in admiration] at it; the tree of the Earl of Shao was not large, yet the poets sang of it (Shi, the Earl of Shao, whenever he tried legal cases, did so beneath a sweet pear tree and then departed; later, the people of Zhou cherished his virtue and could not bear to fell his tree; hence the Ode says, 'Sheltering is the sweet pear tree; do not lop it, do not fell it, for it was where the Earl of Shao rested'). They attend only to overstepping and extravagance, thereby causing [graves] among the briars and weeds to pile up like mounds and embankments, without ever having anyone pay respects to them. Foxes, hares, vipers, and lizards dwell at their base; crows, owls, pigeons, and sparrows hatch their young atop them; woodcutter boys and cowherd lads climb them to whistle and sing; passersby do not know whose they are. When I was at Mount Lu, during the leisure time after finishing my lectures, I would often seek out the forests and valleys; whenever I saw one, I inquired into their virtuous deeds, yet not a single one was worthy of belonging [to such monuments]. From this we see: when one’s deeds are prominent, their hidden virtues shine all the brighter; when one’s virtues are meager, their outward brilliance becomes all the more obscure. It is truly lamentable! (Fascicle thirty-three of the Vinaya-kṣudrakavastu states: The bhikṣu Mūlasena was full of anger during his lifetime; after his demise a pagoda was erected for him. The arhat Kapphiṇa mistakenly paid homage to it, but Upāli informed him, whereupon he ordered five hundred men to destroy it). Zhongni said: 'The Way of the gentleman is dim, yet daily grows more luminous; the way of the petty man is glaring, yet daily withers away.' The Odes say: 'Although hidden and submerged, it is yet exceedingly manifest.' Those who take up the brush to write records in recent times rarely hear of Dao and virtue, or of outstanding conduct and superior practice as constituting an eminent monk; instead, they mostly regard gathering disciples and making connections to extend one’s fame as constituting an eminent monk (this is because modern people wrongly doubt the correctness of the ancients. Li Zhi, while at Fugan Temple, requested the finger-bone relic and obtained it; he then composed a stele inscription, praising ten monks as eminent monks and carving it deeply upon stone; they were all of the petty, mediocre, and vulgar sort, which truly misled the virtue of former generations). Either the world is bereft of the worthy and good, or their investigations were not meticulous. Indeed, wealth and food suffice to gather disciples, flattery and obsequiousness suffice to form connections, and deceitful affectation suffices to spread reputation! If such things are intended to be transmitted to posterity, they merely suffice to encourage disorder. Now, there are those who reside in a village and are esteemed by the village grandees; who dwell in a town and are esteemed by the town magistrate; who dwell in a prefecture and are esteemed by the prefectural governor. Before the doors of ten households, ten households invite them to stay; among families of ten hamlets, ten hamlets invite them to dine—yet this may not even be worth mentioning. One must ask of those who esteem him: what sort of men are they, and for what reason? (Zhongni said: 'When all the villagers love someone, one must examine him; when all the villagers hate someone, one must examine him'). If they are petty, facile, and flatterers, seeking to advance by hook or by crook, then he will rise rapidly to prominence. If they are gentlemen of integrity, resoluteness, virtue, and righteousness, then he will sink into oblivion (when the way of the petty man grows, the way of the gentleman wanes). Yet younger generations admire their promiscuous advancement and cultivate it, yearning for fragrant renown without measuring the days and months; seeking to align with power and profit, forgetting disgrace and endangering themselves, employing cunning schemes and extraordinary calculations, they insist on obtaining favor. Once aligned, they claim, 'So-and-so has taken refuge in me,' and so-and-so takes them as a partisan and as support, viewing it as a shortcut hundredfold more direct [than the straight path], and ridiculing those who are simple, plain, and unable to make aggressive headway (this is what is called deceitful sentiment and thieving intellect). Baochang of the Liang compiled the Biographies of Famous Monks (Ming seng zhuan); Huijiao revised and altered it, titling it Eminent Monks (Gaoseng zhuan), considering that fame is merely the guest of reality. If one’s real practice conceals its light, one is eminent without being famous; if one’s virtue is meager but suits the times, one is famous without being eminent. Those who are famous without being eminent are not what should be recorded. Thus Master Jiao may truly be called an excellent historian of the Śākya clan! A divergent theory states: 'When a dying person sees nothing in absolute stillness, this is called the ultimate Way, not proceeding through dangerous terrors. If one sees a Buddha coming, this is taking signs to be Māra; if the mind grasps at it, how can one escape?' The critic says: This man (this is merely the opinion of an ordinary fellow) cannot yet be called one who grasps the tally. For the dying, form departs and spirit wanders; joy vanishes and suffering converges; they go toward the realm of perpetual darkness, stepping into a borderless country. If they do not behold the holy appearance, they will grieve without salvation (mo means without). Therefore, for dying persons in the Western Regions, the metal chime rings out with a clang, not waiting for a leisurely pace (in the Western Regions, when someone is dying, they must strike the bell, saying that suffering destinies are thereby extinguished; nowadays this land does the same; changrong means a slow and gradual sound). It differs from those who clear their thoughts and dispel confusion so that their spirits have somewhere to return. Furthermore, they tie banners to the image and place them in their hands to hold, indicating the sign of rebirth.