No. 1437-E禪餘外集序
Preface to Chan Remainder: External Collection
古今以文鳴者三。有德性之文。有問學之文。有才情之文。世所盛傳者。問學才情而已。至于德性之文。則自六經以降。不少。槩見作者固希。而知者蓋亦寡矣。永覺大師。早專魯誥。善朱程之學。壯歲棄去。遂入壽昌法社。久之。歸閩住福之鼓山。門人錄其藏稿以行。師自命名曰禪餘外集。丁丑春。淛中諸縉紳。請居杭之真寂。門人益增。其所未刻為卷者八。為目者十有二。余廼為較而梓之。余何能知大師哉。第讀其文。見其不馳騁于才情。而實非富于才情者不能至。不組織于問學。而實非深于問學者不能道。直如春工化普無迹可尋。亦如白雪調高有耳難聽。且余每見其下筆疾書。千言立就。靡不痛快醇至。至于微顯闡幽。開今古不敢開之口。而皆出之。以平易和雅。無艱險綺麗之習。所謂德性之文非耶。蓋師佩壽昌法印。慧光渾圓。叢林推為第一。而實心實行。無不可方軌前賢。垂範後學。尤稱為末流砥柱固宜。其見之文者如此。是豈可以才情問學相比況哉。余不揣愚蒙。僭弁簡首。固知輕汙珠玉無所逃罪。然姑以述生平欣仰之私。云爾。崇禎庚辰秋八月既望日賜進士出身中順大夫常州府知府歸安弟子陳琯題。
Throughout history, writing has been traditionally classified into three types: the writings of virtue, the writings of scholarship, and the writings of talent and emotion. What the world celebrates most is merely scholarship and talent-emotion. As for writings of virtue, there have been plenty since the Six Classics, but those who can create such works have always been rare, and those who truly understand them are even fewer.
Master Yongjue focused on Confucian classics in his early years and excelled in the Neo-Confucian teachings of Zhu Xi and Cheng Hao. In his prime, he abandoned these pursuits and entered the meditation community of Shouchang Monastery. After a long time, he returned to Fujian and resided at Gushan Monastery in Fuzhou. His disciples compiled his manuscripts and published them. The Master himself titled this collection "Chanlin Waiji" (Casual Writings Outside of Chan).
In the spring of 1637, several officials from Zhejiang invited the Master to reside at Zhenji Monastery in Hangzhou. His disciples continued to collect his works beyond what had been printed, eventually gathering eight volumes and twelve sections. I then edited and published them.
How could I claim to truly understand the Master? However, as I read his writings, I saw he did not indulge in talent and emotion—yet without possessing such gifts, he could never have reached this level. He did not stitch together scholarly knowledge—yet without profound learning, he could never have expressed such insights. His word, straightforward and natural, resemble spring’s creative power, leaving no trace to be found. They are also like the lofty melody "White Snow," which is beyond common ears’ appreciation.
I have often witnessed him writing swiftly, producing a thousand words at once—each piece perfectly satisfying and sincere. His works illuminate the subtle and reveal the profound, daring to say what ancient and modern writers dare not say—yet all expressed in plain, harmonious, and refined language, free from any difficult, grandiose, or ornate tendencies. Is this not precisely the writings of virtue?
The Master received the Dharma seal of Shouchang Monastery, his enlightened wisdom perfectly rounded, and he was hailed as foremost within the Buddhist community. His sincere heart and true practice were without flaw, allowing him to walk side by side with the ancient sages, setting an example for later scholars. He is rightly called the "pillar amid the declining currents." That his writings reflect such qualities is only natural. How could he be compared to those merely skilled in scholarship or talent and emotion?
I know well my shallow understanding hardly qualifies me to write the preface for such work. I realize that presumptuously touching these precious pearls and jades brings undeniable fault. Still, let this words express my lifelong admiration and personal devotion.
Written by your humble disciple, Chen Guan, a Presented Scholar, Grand Master of the Central Council, and Prefect of Changzhou Prefecture, on the full moon day of the eighth month, autumn of the Chongzhen year Gengchen (1640).