《抱朴子外篇》Vol. 5

Ge Hong (Baopuzi) expounds on the principles of governance in his chapter "The Way of Rulers": When heaven and earth first separated, the clear Qi ascended to form the sky while the turbid Qi descended to form the earth, thus establishing the hierarchy of noble and humble. The ancient sage-kings emulated the laws of Yin-Yang in heaven and earth to establish the proper relationship between ruler and minister, achieving peace under heaven through establishing official positions and clarifying responsibilities.

A ruler must first cultivate his own virtue (De) to govern the realm, eliminating personal bias to uphold the impartiality of the kingly way, and setting aside private emotions to manifest complete selflessness. One should embrace all things with the magnanimity of heaven and earth, maintaining self-reflection while discerning right from wrong; when receiving counsel, one must widely accept remonstrance while preserving sober judgment. Like channeling water to receive good advice, or cutting lute strings to sever wicked conduct.

Governing a state requires: recruiting virtuous talents while blocking paths for the treacherous; drawing close to the worthy so that compasses, squares, plumb lines, and axes (metaphors for specialists) each fulfill their functions. Selecting officials must match reputation with reality, with regular evaluations and compassionate oversight. Establishing institutions as standards for the people, using clear rewards and punishments to encourage virtue and deter vice.

Use clear regulations to prevent overreach, and sharp discernment to avoid confusion. Rewards should accord with reason, punishments must be impartial and severe. Take the Six Classics (Poetry, Documents, Rites, Music, Changes, Spring and Autumn Annals) as standards, loyalty and trust as norms; govern with kindness and harmony, yet rectify with ritual law and penalties. Like raising dust to expose problems when correcting accumulated abuses, or stirring clear waters to distinguish good from evil.

Officials should fulfill their respective duties: court ministers must not overstep authority, generals must not fear battle. Delight nearby subjects while pacifying distant regions, cultivate enlightened culture to win popular support. Fill state coffers, open wide paths for worthy candidates, and block opportunistic schemes. Enforce laws decisively when sternness is needed, yet tolerate minor faults when leniency serves.

Externally, coordinate civil and military officials; internally, establish the protective screen of imperial clans. Just as lush branches never harm the tree's roots, nor raging waters abandon their source. Stand firm as mountains to deter covetous designs. The fall of the Sanmiao tribes teaches that natural barriers alone cannot protect; the loss of Youzhou proves strategic passes unreliable. Though the Yangtze and Han rivers remain, mighty Chu still fell; though the Sword Gate stands, Gongsun Shu (styled Ziyang) met his clan's destruction.

When a wise ruler governs the nation, the strongest defense lies not in metal-cast walls or moats of boiling water, but in the allegiance of the people's hearts. True barriers exist not at distant borders, but in the unity between ruler and subjects. Therefore, enlightened rulers maintain constant vigilance, fearing their resolve to correct mistakes may still be insufficient; even with sound strategies, they remain alert in times of peace; despite glorious military achievements and vast territories, they guard against complacency, maintaining perpetual prudence.

State governance should emulate the principles of heaven and earth: encompassing all things like the vast sky, and bearing all creatures with the earth's generous virtue (De). Employ wisdom to discern subtle omens, contemplating deeply before events unfold. Bestow favors upon the people like spring breezes nurturing rain, yet enforce laws with autumn frost's stern discipline. Through broad consultation to compare differing views, weigh all opinions fairly, accept remonstrance humbly to understand popular sentiment, and credit achievements to others to inspire future contributions.

By governing officials with correct methods, perpetual vitality can be maintained; through well-designed systems to manage affairs, diverse interests can be harmonized. A ruler's majesty should tower like the legendary Langfeng wind atop Mount Kunlun, soaring above the clouds, making subordinates dare not presume; their thoughts should run as deep as bottomless chasms, unfathomable to others. Thus, the ruler's wellspring of wisdom never runs dry, allowing all officials' talents to flourish fully; the ruler's mind remains boundlessly expansive, while ministers' capacities have natural limits.

When issuing decrees, they should carry thunder's awe-inspiring clarity, never altering correct decisions due to sophistry; when establishing laws, they must shine with the sun, moon, and stars' impartial radiance, never distorting justice for private interests. Grand strategies should spread like dense clouds covering all directions, while upholding principles stands firm as Mount Song and Tai's unshakable foundations. Foresee disaster's evolution before it sprouts, distinguish truth from falsehood amidst cunning words. Never let simple folkways be eroded by flashy hypocrisy, nor allow national unity to fracture through division.

Though rulers must exercise decisive authority, they must extensively gather advice from commoners; though tolerance is essential, they must remain clear-eyed against slander. Witnessing people suffering hunger and cold, they must examine their own responsibility; when crimes emerge among the populace, they must reflect on policy failures. Encountering auspicious signs, they should give thanks for divine protection; facing heavenly calamities as warnings, they must imitate King Tang's self-reproach beneath the mulberry trees (where he prayed for rain). Never hesitate to change course when needed, nor feel ashamed to correct errors after straying.

Maintain vigilance like a circling tiger, receive worthies like a standing qilin. If the roads lack elders singing the "Ji Rang" folk songs (ancient ballads praising peace), feel shame for flawed governance; if people lack basic food, even delicacies should taste bland. Dwelling in towering pavilions, remember the craftsmen's toil; savoring fine cuisine, worry whether farming has been neglected. Hearing banquet music, care more deeply for the people's hardships.

This passage elucidates the wisdom of ancient enlightened rulers in governing the state and cultivating personal virtue, with its core philosophy being "prevention at the earliest stage." Through numerous historical allusions, it demonstrates how rulers must remain vigilant at the first signs of potential problems to prevent major disasters.

For instance: When seeing extravagant decorations, one should consider the tax burden on commoners; wearing coarse garments should recall Duke Wen of Wei's frugality during the Spring and Autumn period; residing in simple palaces should bring to mind Emperor Yu the Great's austerity; viewing lofty towers should serve as a reminder of the calamities brought by the extravagant Zhanghua Terrace built by King Ling of Chu, and how the Epang Palace accelerated the Qin dynasty's collapse.

In handling state affairs: Oaths and promises must be kept with integrity; during leisure, one must guard against temptations like those posed by Bao Si and Daji (notorious imperial consorts who brought ruin to their states); launching military campaigns requires assessing capabilities to avoid bringing tears to the people; administering punishments demands fairness to prevent wrongful grievances.

When selecting successors: Be wary of the civil strife caused by Duke Xian of Jin deposing his eldest son; hunting expeditions should prioritize discovering worthy talents; showing favor requires guarding against slander; autocratic decisions must heed the lesson of Zhao Gao's "calling a deer a horse."

Regarding counsel: Receive loyal advice as humbly as Emperor Gaozu of Han; during revelry, keep at arm's length from fine wines (Yi Di being the legendary inventor of alcohol); deal decisively with flatterers as with the removal of the sycophant Luan Ji from the Warring States period; temper mercy with prudence, as in sparing deer appropriately.

Numerous concrete measures are mentioned: reducing harem extravagance, ceasing distant quests for prized steeds, banning vicious dogs to prevent drunken disturbances, purchasing thousand-li horses at great cost (referencing King Zhao of Yan's recruitment of talents), heeding honest advice, and appointing upright officials.

The passage concludes by emphasizing governing principles: Never let emotions override laws, never pardon crimes due to personal favor, never conceal achievements due to dislike, accept remonstrance without quibbling over phrasing, focus on major issues while tolerating minor imperfections. Like moving firewood to prevent conflagration ("xixin"), cultivate moral integrity and establish clear evaluation standards.

This passage illustrates how benevolent governance and virtuous rule can reform wrongdoers, attract worthy talents, and ultimately achieve universal peace.

During the Spring and Autumn period, historical figures like Cao Gui and Meng Ming, though initially flawed, reformed themselves due to their rulers’ magnanimity. Similarly, renowned Han Dynasty ministers like Wei Shang and Zhang Chang achieved great deeds under wise sovereigns. Even Guan Zhong—once an enemy who shot an arrow at Duke Huan of Qi—later became a key architect of his hegemony. Li Zuoche, after being spared by Han Xin, offered brilliant strategies to halt conflict. This demonstrates that through virtuous transformation, even an owl (xiūxiāo) can become a phoenix, and the treacherous can turn loyal, just as fragrant herbs may thrive in saline soil or luminous pearls shine from muddy depths.

The text advocates governing by honoring the worthy and humbling oneself before the virtuous: like King Wen of Zhou, who journeyed westward (xīmiàn qūnxún) with reverence to seek sages, or respecting elders to cultivate filial piety. Thus, reclusive talents would come forth, and both court and country would gain capable advisors. With proper governance, the people’s hearts are won; with widespread benevolence, moral influence extends far. Wise officials fulfill their duties, and even peasants in the fields understand humility.

The ideal way of governance includes: simplifying harsh laws to restore peace; using wheel-wrapping rushes (púlún, an ancient ritual for welcoming sages) and jade-silk gifts to recruit hermits; summoning talents like the "Eight Virtuous and Eight Wise" (Yuán-Kǎi, legendary ministers under Emperor Shun) to deliberate on statecraft; reducing taxes and banning liquor monopolies to nurture public virtue; promoting righteousness while curbing vanity and rivalry. Those who yearn for virtue would flourish like seedlings in nourishing rain, and the people’s allegiance would converge like streams into rivers. The populace thrives like leaves on branches, and foreign tribes gaze toward the center as stars circle the North Pole.

Thus, celestial order prevails (qīzhèng, the seven celestial bodies: sun, moon, and five planets), and the seasons flow harmoniously. Auspicious signs emerge: the four divine creatures (sìlíng—qilin, phoenix, turtle, dragon) appear together; auspicious fungi bloom; sweet dew descends; crops flourish. Drought demons (dānpá) are banished, plagues (xuánlì) suppressed; rivers flow calmly, winds and rains come timely. All things grow in season, and the people harbor no resentment. Prisons stand empty, punishments unused. Even nomadic tribes in furs (zhānqiú pífú) and mountain recluses joyfully submit. Distant lands offer rare birds and treasures (língqín, yáohuán), and border peoples (yuánshǒu) turn toward virtue like clouds stirred by wind. Such governance rivals the golden ages of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (sānwǔ), ensuring ancestral temples endure and the nation prospers eternally.

(Note: The original text employs historical allusions and metaphors. The translation incorporates explanatory additions where necessary to convey its political ideals and governance philosophy to modern readers while preserving the essence.)

This passage elucidates the fundamental principles of governance. Just as a tree's roots must grow deep for its branches to flourish, only when the people live in peace can the ruler rest easy. The finest steed cannot run a thousand miles without training by Zaofu (the legendary charioteer), and even sage rulers like Yao and Shun could not achieve peace if the people were not united.

When horses are pushed to exhaustion, they will bolt; when the people suffer extreme hardship, rebellion follows. Should not the ruler then tread as cautiously as if walking on thin ice? If a ruler fails to contemplate the causes of order and chaos, or learn from fallen kingdoms, even with hawk-eyed perception, perfect pitch, literary brilliance, martial prowess, vast learning, and eloquence, they cannot prevent the state's collapse. Why? Because they grasp at branches while missing the root.

The truly wise ruler practices frugality and self-restraint, maintaining vigilance in times of peace as if standing on fragile ice. They master governing principles to manage details and employ Daoist statecraft to guide talent. Let generals like Han Xin and Bai Qi focus on defense, ministers like Xiao He and Cao Shen devote themselves to administration. By pooling collective wisdom and leveraging each person's strengths, the ruler may enjoy palace comforts while governing effortlessly. Must one really live in a thatched hut, eat coarse food, and toil personally to benefit the people and spread virtue?

Foolish rulers do the opposite: vacillating indecisively between policies, unable to distinguish good from bad, or ruling with excessive cruelty and harsh punishments. They dwell in precarious nests yet consider themselves secure as Mount Tai, dismissing caution as unnecessary. By executing the innocent, appointing only sycophants, and keeping petty men close, such rule is doomed to fail.

This passage describes the various malpractices arising from improper appointments in ancient courts. Those in power exclusively favored sycophants while alienating capable clan members and relatives. They trusted only flatterers but detested upright officials. The demoted often suffered for nonconformity, while the promoted rose through sweet talk without any examination of actual governance.

Among regional officials and generals holding crucial positions, some were corrupt and harmed their jurisdictions, some formed cliques and disrupted court discipline, some proved incompetent and ruined administration, while others acted timidly and bungled military affairs. Yet the ruler couldn't bear to dismiss them, instead showering greater favor in hopes of their reform. The result was mediocrities in high positions ultimately causing major disasters. Meanwhile, truly talented visionaries without connections either retreated in coarse hemp robes or sank into poverty. They harbored statecraft wisdom with no outlet—this was the root of national decline.

The powerful neglected sage classics while indulging daily in pleasures. They dwelled in tall towers yet stood morally low, expanded gardens yet narrowed their minds, dug deep ponds yet ran shallow on kindness. They preferred hounds to loyal counsel, valued jewels over wisdom, wore splendid robes yet stinted charity, delayed relief yet hastened exactions. They chased hunts while neglecting farming, prized land grabs over people's lives, favored entertainers over scholars, indulged favorites while slighting officers. Immersed in sensual delights, they neglected governance—pleasure first, administration last. They levied endless corvée labor but scant rewards, specialized in ornate but useless artifacts, and kept rare beasts that wasted grain.

Such states cannot blame heaven for their peril nor others for their weakness. Fortune and misfortune are self-made—King Tang and King Wu of Zhou versus King Zhou of Shang show stark contrast. King Wen of Zhou earned benevolent fame by burying exposed bones, while King Zhou incurred universal hatred by cutting out Bigan's heart. Public figures' reputations spread swiftly—their rise and fall hinge on single thoughts. Accumulated virtue attracts barbarians' submission, beyond empty fame's reach; accumulated vice drives even the civilized away, beyond remedy. Therefore persist in minor good though its benefit seems small, abstain from minor evil though its harm seems distant. If desires run unchecked without restraint... (original text fragmentary here)

This passage elucidates principles of governance. When a ruler indulges in personal pleasures without sharing the hardships of the people, it is like leveling the foundation while raising the structure—inevitably leading to collapse. Once power spirals out of control, it becomes as unmanageable as a divine steed with loosened reins. Exhausting the people's strength and resources only invites their resentment and heaven's wrath.

History offers stark examples: Tian Chengzi (a powerful minister of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period) plotted to usurp the state from behind his curtains, while King Wen of Zhou (Ji Chang) seized power from neighboring lands. Chen Sheng and Wu Guang raised their banners in revolt; Liu Bang and Xiang Yu clashed in armed struggle. By the time rebel forces scale the walls with siege ladders, blades glinting at the palace gates, and imperial guards scatter in disarray, it is too late to recruit worthy men. It is like fetching seawater only after the mansion catches fire, or building a boat on distant shores only when the floodwaters rise—utterly futile.

The towering mountain does not grow taller through pride, nor does Mount Tai (the sacred Eastern Peak) attain its majesty by indulging desires. Even sagely rulers spur their steeds in fear of falling behind, while mediocre ones believe a leisurely pace will surpass their predecessors. Some remain vigilant in times of peace; others cling to comfort amid peril. Some toil tirelessly despite their achievements; others remain oblivious to dangers as precarious as beaded curtains or stacked eggs. Were it not for the cautionary tales of tyrants like Jie of Xia (Xin) and Zhou of Shang (Gui), how could we appreciate the wisdom of enlightened rulers (Qinming)? Let these lessons be ever remembered!