先高祖春严公。幼孤而贫。生而有大志。性嗜书。力不能就塾。私蓄鸡积卵以易书。读或劝之习星卜以
为
游。尽发其秘。活人指不胜屈暇。则着书有活人心鉴、虚车录、养生类要、脉症治方等书。惟养生类要。昔已
梓行。余悉存笥中。游于北都。遭太医之嫉。卒年未四十。先曾祖居易公暨。先君咸世传其学。先君素欲以
公所遗诸书。梓以问世。自少力肩家政勤劳于外。有志未逮及耄。而始得经风休息于家。先以脉症治方
一书付剖劂氏。余将次第以成益。脉症治方者。按脉审症。因症辨治。而后定方。其理至浅。而至深。其言至
简,而至备。俾初学人见之。了如指掌。即三折肱者。究不能出其范围。洵乎为下学上达之功也。故梓之尤
急也。无何书垂成。而先君忽见背时。不肖持偕仲弟斌匍匐归里。痛摧心脾。是书未遑。寓目赖从兄天士详
加校阅。纤悉无讹。其未成者。仍十之二三。属持急续成之持愿。自兹糊口。四方得菽水。以供母氏。余悉梓
成诸书。以成先君之志。奈年来烽烟。未靖谋生无策。又未易言此。因思先高祖甫。离襁褓而遂失怙家。无
升斗之储。未当一日就训熟师而能成不朽之业。垂不朽之书。持等受先人之庇。承父泽之遗。而有志莫
酬。其贤不肖为何如耶?然使天假。先君数年则诸书皆已告成。而天胡夺之速。岂以诸书过于浅天之秘。
故天不欲使见于世耶抑。吾父欲与世公之而天反欲秘之耶然。而吾父之志。固未尝一日去诸怀也。是
不肖持之责也夫。
元孙志持百拜敬跋。
我的高祖春严公,幼年丧父且家境贫寒。他生来就有远大的志向,性格酷爱读书。因无力负担私塾的费用,便私下积攒鸡蛋去换取书籍。有人曾劝他学习星象占卜以作为谋生的门路,他却将其中的秘密全部揭示出来,救活的人不计其数。闲暇时,他便著书立说,著有《活人心鉴》、《虚车录》、《养生类要》、《脉症治方》等书。其中《养生类要》过去已经刊印发行,其余的书都保存在书箱中。他在北都游历时,遭到太医的嫉妒,去世时年龄不到四十岁。
我的曾祖居易公以及先父世代传承了他的学问。先父一直想把公所遗留的这些书刊印问世。他从小肩负家庭重担,在外勤劳奔波,有志向却未能实现,直到年老时才得以在家休息。起初,他将《脉症治方》一书交付给刻工进行雕版印刷。我打算按次序完成其他书籍的刊印工作。《脉症治方》这本书,通过诊察脉象来审视症状,根据症状辨别治疗方法,然后确定方剂。其中的道理看似浅显实则深奥,言辞看似简略实则完备。使初学者看了之后,能像看手掌一样清楚明白;即使是经验丰富的医生(三折肱者),研究起来也不能超出这个范围。这确实是帮助初学者由浅入深的功夫啊。所以刊印此书尤为紧急。
不久,书即将刻成,先父突然去世。我不孝之身跟随二弟斌匍匐回到家乡,悲痛欲绝,心脾俱碎。这本书来不及细看,幸得堂兄天士详细校阅,细微之处都没有错误。书中未完成的部分仍占十之二三,嘱咐我急忙续完。我立志从此靠糊口度日,在四方奔波,只要能得到基本的饮食供养母亲,其余的钱财都用来刊印成书,以完成先父的遗志。无奈近年来战火未平,谋生无策,又难以谈论此事。因此想到先高祖刚离开襁褓就失去父亲,家中没有一升一斗的储备,未曾有一天跟随熟练的老师受训,却能成就不朽的事业,留下不朽的著作。我们这些人承受祖先的庇护,继承父亲的恩泽,却有志向无法实现,贤能与不肖的区别究竟如何呢?
然而,如果上天假以先父几年时间,那么诸书都已经完成了,为什么上天夺走他如此迅速?难道是因为这些书过于浅显,违背了上天的机密,所以上天不想让它们见于世间吗?还是因为我想与世人公开它,而上天反而想隐藏它呢?然而,我父亲的志向,确实从未有一天离开过胸怀。这是我不孝之身的责任啊。
元孙志持恭敬地写下这篇跋文。
My great-grandfather, Mr. Chunyan, was orphaned in his youth and lived in poverty. Born with lofty aspirations, he had a passion for reading. Unable to afford private schooling, he secretly saved chicken eggs to exchange for books. When advised by others to study astrology and divination as a means of livelihood, he instead revealed all its secrets, saving countless lives. In his leisure time, he wrote several works, including *Huoren Xinjian* (Mirror of the Living Heart), *Xuche Lu* (Record of the Empty Chariot), *Yangsheng Leyao* (Essentials of Health Preservation), and *Maizheng Zhifang* (Pulse and Symptom Treatment Formulas). Among these, *Yangsheng Leyao* had previously been printed and published, while the rest remained stored in my family's book chests. While traveling in the Northern Capital, he fell victim to the jealousy of imperial physicians and passed away before the age of forty.
My great-grandfather, Mr. Juyi, and my late father inherited and transmitted his medical knowledge through generations. My late father always wished to publish the manuscripts left by our ancestor for the benefit of the world. From a young age, he bore the burden of household management, working diligently outside, but his ambitions remained unfulfilled until his old age, when he finally had the opportunity to rest at home. Initially, he entrusted the manuscript of *Maizheng Zhifang* to the engravers for woodblock printing. I intended to proceed with publishing the remaining works in order. *Maizheng Zhifang* analyzes symptoms based on pulse diagnosis, determines treatment methods according to symptoms, and subsequently selects appropriate formulas. Its principles are profound yet accessible; its language is concise yet comprehensive. It allows beginners to understand the content clearly, like reading their own palm, while even experienced practitioners (those who have "broken their elbow three times," implying extensive clinical experience) cannot transcend its scope. Indeed, it serves as an effective tool for guiding learners from basic to advanced levels. Therefore, its publication was urgent.
Before the book could be completed, my late father suddenly passed away. Accompanied by my second brother Bin, I returned home in grief, my heart and spleen shattered with sorrow. The manuscript was not given due attention, but fortunately, my elder cousin Tianshi carefully proofread it, ensuring no errors in details. About twenty to thirty percent of the work remained unfinished. He instructed me to complete it urgently. I vowed to support myself through humble labor, traveling widely to secure basic food and water to support my mother, dedicating any surplus funds to printing these books to fulfill my father's wishes. However, due to ongoing wars and unrest in recent years, finding a livelihood has been difficult, making such literary endeavors hard to pursue. Reflecting on how my great-grandfather lost his father while still an infant, possessed no savings, and never studied under a formal teacher, yet achieved immortal deeds and left immortal writings, I wonder: we, who enjoy the protection of our ancestors and the legacy of our fathers, fail to realize our ambitions. How does this compare in terms of virtue?
If Heaven had granted my father a few more years, all these books would have been completed. Why did Heaven take him so swiftly? Is it because these texts are too simplistic, contrary to Heavenly secrets, and thus Heaven willed them not to appear? Or is it because I wish to share them with the world, while Heaven intends to keep them hidden? Nevertheless, my father's aspiration has never left my mind for a single day. This is my responsibility as the unworthy descendant.
Zhi Chi, the fourth-generation descendant, bows respectfully and writes this postscript.