No. 1437-D禪餘內集序
永覺大師。自浙反閩。復休老于福之鼓山。侍者太冲上人。錄其三會之語。類而合之。為禪餘內集。集既成。來檇李問序于予。予雖忝讀佛書。于佛之道。實毫無所窺測。安能知大師哉。不知而妄序之。則予之辜也。上人固請。弗克辭。乃曰。無已則姑述予之知大師者可乎。大師學貫天人。識達今古。大而理亂興亡之故。小而賢否進退之幾。幽而河洛星曆之微。顯而禮樂刑政之賾。罔不精究其致。或出一言。便可千秋。此則予之知大師者。知其學之精也。靈光磅礴。任筆所之。理無不精。意無不達。議論變化。莫知端倪。然皆清真雅澹。舂容和鬯。無藻繪浮靡之習。無激揚揮霍之氣。此則予之知大師。知其文之粹也。年近耳順。方鳴斯鐸。開堂兩載。即思卷舌。所居一任外緣。如不事事。絕無喜巧之念。貪營之思。此則予之知大師。知其養之恬也。鐵骨擎空。孤風絕侶。操行剛方。動必師古。雖歷主四剎。而足不入俗。雖日接顯貴。而語無阿順。此則予之知大師。知其節之峻也。室中單提祖印。牢把鐵關。雖英衲鱗集。率皆望厓而退。絕未見其濫有許可。付拂傳衣。以圖門庭熱閙。此則予之知大師。知其守之嚴也。至于陞堂說法。矢口而成。機辯自在。電捲雲蒸。而實不局守一途。或痛快。或綿密。或高古。或平實。此則疑其如摩尼圓映五色不定。亦如巨海波瀾涌沒何常。即大慧所謂大方家手段。禪備眾格者非歟。此特隔江望剎影。描寫于依稀恍惚之間。有如此者。豈予之謭劣。能知大師哉。然予甞聞之。大師云。我生今之世。直是形影相弔。實未見有能知我者。然我亦不求知于今之世。但斯言未泯。吾道在茲。他日倘有能因吾言而見吾心。則少林一宗。庶幾不滅矣。今請以斯語弁之卷首可乎。上人唯唯。遂筆之以為序。
Master Yongjue returned from Zhejiang to Fujian, where he retired to Drum Mountain. His attendant, Senior Taichong, compiled the records of his three sessions of teachings, uniting them into a collection titled "Inner Writings on the Legacy of Chan." Once completed, he came to Zui Li to ask me for a preface. Though I have read Buddhist scriptures, I have truly understood nothing of the Buddhist path—how could I possibly know the Master? To write a preface out of ignorance would be my failing. But the senior earnestly insisted, and I could not refuse. So I said, "If I must, may I simply recount what I do know of the Master?"
The Master's learning encompasses heaven and humanity, his insight spans past and present. In large matters—the principles of order and chaos, rise and fall—and in small matters—the subtleties of talent's advancement or retreat—in hidden things like the Yellow River Chart, the stars, and calendar calculations—and in visible ones like ritual, music, punishment, and governance—there is nothing he has not thoroughly investigated to its core. A single word from him can endure for a thousand years. This is my knowledge of the Master: his learning is profound.
His radiant spirit roams freely, and his brush follows wherever it leads. Every principle is refined, every intention expressed. His arguments shift unpredictably, with no discernible boundary. Yet all are pure, genuine, elegant, and subtle—full and harmonious, without the flash of ornate decoration or the agitation of forceful display. This is my knowledge of the Master: his writing is pure.
Now nearly sixty, he has just begun to sound the bell of teaching. After two years of leading the hall, he already contemplates falling silent. He entrusts all circumstances to fate, as if unconcerned, utterly free from fondness for novelty or greed for gain. This is my knowledge of the Master: his cultivation is serene.
With an iron spine that holds up the sky, he stands alone in noble style. His conduct is upright and resolute; every action follows the ancients. Though he has presided over four monasteries, he never steps into the worldly arena. Though he daily mingles with the high and mighty, his words never stoop to flattery. This is my knowledge of the Master: his integrity is lofty.
Within the meditation hall, he single-handedly upholds the patriarch's seal, holding the iron barrier firm. Though eminent monks gather like scales on a fish, most retreat before the threshold. He is never seen granting casual approval, passing on the fly-whisk, or transmitting the robe to make his temple bustling. This is my knowledge of the Master: his discipline is strict.
As for ascending the hall to teach, his words flow from his lips spontaneously. His wit and spontaneous skill are free, like lightning sweeping through clouds rising. He never confines himself to a single path—now fierce, now gentle; now elevated and ancient, now plain and direct. This suggests he is like a wish-fulfilling jewel that reflects all colors without settling on one, or like a vast ocean with waves that surge and recede without any fixed pattern. Is this not precisely what Great Wisdom called "the great master's technique, where Chan embraces all forms"?
This is merely my attempt to sketch the Master from far across the river, depicting his shadow in hazy outline. How could my shallow mind truly know him?
Yet I once heard the Master say: "Born into this age, I am truly alone, with only my shadow for company. I have never seen anyone who truly knows me. But I do not seek to be known in this age either. As long as these words remain, my Way is here. If someday someone can see my mind through my words, then the lineage of Shaolin may not die out."
Now may I place these words at the head of the volume? The senior assented. So I wrote them as a preface.
旹崇禎癸未孟夏四月。佛𧩙日。賜進士出身奉勑提督南京應天等府學政前巡按江西等處原任湖廣道監察御史𭬥李弟子曹谷稽首和南題