《弘道錄》

Benevolence

Benevolence between Ruler and Minister

Confucius said, “How truly great Yao was as a ruler! His eminence and breadth were beyond compare. Only Heaven is vast enough, and only Yao could model himself on Heaven. The flood of Yao’s virtue was boundless; the people did not even know how to praise him.”

The Hongdao lu says: As a ruler, Yao has been a model of the ethics between ruler and minister for thousands of years. Confucius’s words about him, too, are the foundation for transmitting Yao’s virtue through all ages. “Great” means that he reached the utmost, with nothing beyond him. His virtue transformed without end and could not be exhausted.

Heaven covers and protects all things with benevolence and compassion; a king models himself on benevolent virtue to nurture the people. The Way of benevolence is vast and shares Heaven’s very nature. The sage takes Heaven as his model. If one can model oneself on Heaven, all will naturally be pleased, and all things will be cared for. But if these virtues could be fully described in words, they would necessarily have an end and a limit—and so could not be truly vast.

Thus, Heaven is great because its movement as a whole never ceases. It stands high above, yet no one can fathom how high or deep it is. This is what makes Heaven Heaven. Yao is great because his virtue accords with the boundless cosmos. He matched Heaven, yet no one could discern the limits of his virtue. This is what makes Yao Yao.

Confucius praised Yao with such solemnity to show that a ruler must have a heart broad enough to embrace all and care for everyone in order to accomplish work that is generous, enlightened, lasting, and without end. Only then will he not fail Heaven, fall short of Yao, or prove unworthy of Confucius’s praise. For this reason, the Hongdao lu sets out this principle at the very beginning.

The Waiji says: Yao kept the whole world in his heart, and he was especially concerned for those who suffered hardship. If even one person went hungry, he said, “I am the one who has made this person hungry.” If even one person was cold, he said, “I am the one who has made this person cold.” If even one person committed a crime, he said, “I am the one who has led this person into wrongdoing.” The people revered him as they revered the sun and moon, and felt close to him as they did to their parents. His benevolent virtue shone forth, justice was established, and his beneficence spread far and wide, as did his moral instruction. Therefore, even without rewards, the people pressed forward of their own accord; even without punishments, they kept order and lived in peace.

The Hongdao lu says: This is what is meant by “Yao’s benevolent virtue was like Heaven.” Heaven is indeed high and majestic; but if we ask why it is great, we find that it shows no partiality toward any thing. This is what true vastness and openness mean. If so, what purpose would Heaven serve? Yao’s virtue was indeed boundless; but if we ask what lay at its root, then if even one person received no benefit from it, that virtue would be empty fame. What purpose would such a Yao serve? The Hongdao lu was concerned that…

When a person ignores practical matters and talks only about lofty principles, they will say, “Yao is right here.” Ah, Yao’s realm was truly lofty.

The “Canon of Yao” says: “Yao was able to make his noble virtue shine forth and bring the nine clans—his kin of the same lineage—into close and harmonious relations. Once the nine clans were in harmony, he distinguished the duties of the officials and put them in order. When each official fulfilled his role, all the regions under Heaven became harmonious and orderly, and the people were taught and transformed. In the end, all under Heaven was peaceful and joyful.”

The Hongdao lu says: Confucius praised Yao as “lofty,” and the historians praised his “sublime virtue.” Both expressions mean that Yao’s virtue reached the highest possible degree. Yet what Yao did went no further than drawing his nine clans close and governing the officials. He did not wield wondrous powers in the heavens or undertake abstruse and difficult feats. This is precisely what is meant by calling Yao “Fangxun,” a title meaning that his merit and virtue were vast. Readers should reflect on this carefully.

The Liezi records that after governing the realm for fifty years, Yao went out to visit the marketplace and heard children singing: “You have enabled us, the people, to live in peace and contentment, and everything accords with your standards. We need not make a point of thinking about it; naturally, we follow Heaven’s principles.” He also saw an old man with food in his mouth and his belly swollen, beating a clod of earth as he sang: “When the sun rises, I work; when it sets, I rest. I dig a well for water to drink and plow the fields for grain to eat. What does the emperor’s favor have to do with me?”

The Hongdao lu says: This story shows that the people had been transformed by education and that all under Heaven was joyful and harmonious. Children are young and ignorant, while the old man was advanced in years. How could they understand what “Heaven’s principles” meant? In the peaceful age of high antiquity, the people and their ruler were as close as one family. The transformation wrought by virtue had permeated daily life and become part of people’s very being, so that when they spoke these words, they might not even have been aware of the principles they expressed.

For this reason, the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties collected folk songs, established them as part of ritual, and entrusted them to the music officials, who set them to instrumental accompaniment. In this way, they observed local customs and the effects of moral instruction. The “Odes of Zhou” in the Book of Songs says: “The people are simple and unadorned; their daily needs amount to no more than food and drink. The people throughout the realm all receive the ruler’s beneficence.” This is exactly what it means. After the Qin dynasty, rulers came to regard the people as ignorant across the board, and so they placed restrictions and obstacles everywhere. This has continued to the present day, which is truly regrettable.

Confucius said: “Wasn’t Shun perhaps the only one who could govern through Wuwei (non-action)? What did he do? He simply corrected himself and sat solemnly facing south.”

The Hongdao lu says: Confucius praised Yao as great, yet praised Shun with the words “Wuwei.” What does this mean? Heaven is originally a single whole, vast and boundless. When viewed as complete, flawless, and all-encompassing, it is called “great.” When viewed as silent, formless, and imperceptible, it is called “Wuwei.” People see only that the sun’s rising makes day, the moon’s appearance makes night, the coming of cold makes winter, and the coming of warmth makes spring. Which of these is not Heaven’s movement? Yet how could people ever glimpse Heaven’s form? It extends and…

To show favor and thereby establish authority, to grant rewards and confer benefits, to impose punishments and take things away—are these not all arrangements made by the ruler? Yet how can one see any trace of deliberate action in them?

Yao and Shun had different names, but in substance they were one. If people keep talking about how towering Yao’s achievements were and how brilliant his civil governance, they will see only his toil and not his ease, only his greatness and not his composure. How, then, can they understand how he governed the world with reverent self-restraint, seated upright and facing south? People do not realize that when Shun was on the throne, he neither departed from Yao’s way of governing nor from Yao’s intention in ruling the country. How could his mind make room for any extraneous thoughts? Because he added nothing to his mind, no trace of deliberate action could be seen outwardly. This is the flourishing state described as “reverently restraining himself while the world was at peace.” It is unlike teaching the people through displays of sound and color, which is merely surface work. Thus the saying “Why must there be any deliberate action?” is repeated to express profound praise for him.

Gao Yao, the minister responsible for criminal law under Shun, said: “The virtue of Emperor Yao was without fault. He governed his subordinates with simplicity and leniency and led the people with generosity. Punishments did not implicate descendants, while rewards extended to them. He forgave offenses, great or small, and was reluctant to impose severe sentences. When a crime was doubtful, he treated it lightly; when merit was doubtful, he recognized it generously. Rather than wrongly execute an innocent person, he would rather set aside the usual rules. The virtue of an emperor who cherishes life deeply transformed the people.”

The Hongdao Lu says: “Everything about how Shun became Shun—his beginnings and conclusion, his source and achievements—can be seen here. In his position of authority, he took generosity as his foundation; in his treatment of others, he took kindness as his foundation; in governing the people, he took benevolence as his foundation; and in his compassion for the dead, he took pity as his foundation. Without these foundations, how could he have governed with reverent self-restraint, facing south? Among later rulers, only Emperor Wen of Han and Emperor Renzong of Song came close to this state. Yet their accomplishments did not reach the level of Yao and Shun because they lacked an aide like Gao Yao, whose outstanding virtue helped the ruler govern the world. Without such a person governing alongside him, how could one expect a ruler to cultivate himself, think far ahead, and inspire many worthy people to exert themselves in service? This, too, must be understood.”

The Kongzi Jiayu says: “When Shun was ruler, his policies favored nurturing life and opposed killing; he appointed the worthy and dismissed the unworthy. His virtue was vast, calm, and clear as Heaven and Earth, and his teaching spread through all things like the turning of the four seasons. Thus, throughout the four seas, all accepted his instruction, and all things flourished. The phoenix came, the qilin appeared, and birds and beasts, too, submitted to the transformation of his virtue. There was no other reason: it was simply because he cherished life.”

The Hongdao Lu says: “Confucius praised Shun in the highest terms, then added, ‘There was no other reason: it was simply because he cherished life.’ What was the point of this statement? Presumably, it means that the ruler spreads virtue that is vast and bright, and treats the growth of life with generosity…”

What can nurture life is the true intent of Heaven. Heaven has the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter, whose purpose is to bring forth and nourish all things, not to harm them. Autumn’s harshness and winter’s concealment allow all things to gather and draw inward, storing their strength so that they can continue to grow and spread.

A ruler holds eight kinds of authority in order to protect the people, not to harm them. Sternly punishing the wicked and using authority to put a stop to violence are ways of protecting the people and securing their peace for the long term.

Thus, when Shun executed the Four Evildoers, people throughout the realm considered them deserving of their punishment. Yet Shun still felt compassion, as though he had acted only because there was no other choice. Gao Yao, an ancient judicial official, was responsible for enforcing the law, while the judicial officers handled the trials. Though the matter arose under Shun’s rule, it did not reflect his personal wish. An old saying goes, “It was the people of the realm who wanted them killed; Shun himself did not.” How could this have harmed Shun’s Virtue of cherishing life?

Suppose Shun had favored a particular person. Gao Yao might say the person should be executed, while Shun insisted on sparing his life. This might appear merciful, but what of the harm done to the people? To harm the people is contrary to Heaven’s principle. Conversely, if a judicial officer said a person should not be executed, but Shun insisted on putting him to death, this might appear authoritative, but what harm would that do to his own heart? To harm one’s own heart is contrary to Virtue. An old saying therefore goes, “Rather than execute the innocent by mistake, it is better to err on the side of leniency in enforcing the law.” The Virtue of cherishing life can thus take deep root in the people’s hearts.

Shun played the five-stringed zither and sang the “South Wind” song: “How gentle the South Wind, dispelling the people’s troubles; how timely the South Wind, bringing abundance to the people’s goods.”

The Hongdao lu comments: In Yao’s time, the atmosphere was broad and generous, like Heaven and Earth, which carry and shelter all things. The people therefore felt no trace of deliberate action by their ruler. In Shun’s time, his Virtue spread in all directions like a warm breeze, inspiring and nourishing all things. He also understood and relieved the people’s troubles, helping their wealth to grow. These acts sprang from his heart and naturally took form in his conduct; they were not carefully contrived. Such virtuous governance was set to music in the Shao, the “Shao” music. How could it fail to be perfect in every way?

The Xia ruler, Yu, was quick in temperament and capable in action. His Virtue was upright and impartial, and his kindness made him approachable.

The Hongdao lu comments: Yao, Shun, and Yu were all great sages. The Kongzi Jiayu speaks of each of them differently. Yao already occupied the ruler’s position and was honored by succeeding generations as the supreme sage king. Shun and Yu, by contrast, rose from humble standing and experienced the work of governing the people firsthand; they could not be compared with Yao’s position, which was like that of Heaven. Confucius had his reasons for expressing himself this way.

The Book of Yu says: “The root of Virtue lies in carrying out good government; the root of government lies in caring for the people. Water, fire, metal, wood, earth, and grain…”

To correct De, make practical use of resources, and ensure people’s well-being, the key is “harmony.”

The Hongdao lu says: Why was Yu the Great able to handle affairs of state with such speed and thoroughness? At that time, floods swept across the land and the people were plunged into hardship. This was because the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) were out of balance in their interactions, and Water and Fire could not regulate one another. Heaven therefore bestowed on Yu the Hongfan’s Nine Categories, the nine great principles for governing the world. Yu was able to act swiftly in accordance with these principles, removing what was excessive and supplying what was lacking, so that everything was brought into balance and provided for. Without this, how could the constant ways and human relationships ever have been established? The “Six Offices and Three Affairs” are what the Hongfan calls the Supreme Standard, the principles for governing the world. The benevolence embodied in them could hardly be more intimate.

“Siwen” in the Odes of Zhou says: Hou Ji, the ancestor of the Zhou people and patron of agriculture, was worthy of matching Heaven’s De. He sustained the many people, and none failed to receive his beneficence. He bestowed wheat on later generations. Heaven commanded him to nurture the people, and without distinction between near and far, he spread the constant ways throughout the world.

The Hongdao lu says: The “Supreme Standard” here is what the Great Learning calls the “highest good.” Heaven takes the bringing forth and nourishing of all things as its fundamental intent. Which of the Yin and Yang energies, or the ways of Qian and Kun, has not been fully put to use? If even the slightest thing falls short, or benevolence is absent for even a moment, all things cannot be brought forth and nourished—and Heaven would no longer be Heaven. The sage takes nurturing the people as his fundamental intent. Of the millet and panic grass sown by Hou Ji, and the foxtail millet and broomcorn millet he cultivated, which was not tended with utmost care? If even one crop is not planted widely, or one tract of land is not put to suitable use, then the people have not truly been nurtured—and Hou Ji would no longer be Hou Ji. No one but the Duke of Zhou could truly understand this benevolence carried to its highest degree. Thus the rites of honoring the ancestors and offering sacrifice in which they are paired with Heaven arose in accordance with the Dao.

Mencius said: People have a way of life. If they are merely fed, clothed, and housed in comfort, but receive no instruction, they will approach the condition of animals. The sages therefore worried about this and appointed Xie as Minister of Instruction, to teach people to observe human relationships: affection between father and son, righteousness between ruler and minister, distinction between husband and wife, order between elders and younger people, and trustworthiness between friends. Yao also said: Comfort the people and help them; correct them and set them straight; support them and guide them, so that they understand and carry this out for themselves. Then continue to rescue them and extend kindness to them.

The Hongdao lu says: Fish and turtles cannot be the foundation on which people depend for their survival; wood and stone cannot nourish the people; and birds and beasts are not enough to establish good governance. If people concern themselves only with these things, they will fall into hardship. Without food, the people go hungry; building homes tires them out. Yet their inherent goodness remains. Without instruction, people’s hearts become clouded and confused, private desires run unchecked, and the principle of Heaven is obstructed. In this way, all the people beneath Heaven who have mouths and hair would, in the end, be inferior even to those with horns…

Horned animals can only butt with their horns; animals with manes can only flee by running; and animals with long claws and teeth can do no more than tear and bite. Why are none of these a true source of calamity? Because their capacities are limited. But if people are not restrained by the principles of Heaven and have no safeguards against their desires, they will repeatedly deceive, harm the people, and damage all things—the consequences are beyond measure. From this we can see that Xuan Wang, the ancestor of the Shang dynasty, established laws for all under Heaven that were fit to be handed down to later generations; his contribution was far more than a slight benefit. Was it not only right that he be offered sacrifices and honored alongside Heaven?

The Book of Yu says: “Gao Yao widely sowed Virtue; Virtue then descended, and the people all gave their hearts to him.”

The Hongdao lu says: Why is Gao Yao’s Virtue described as “widely sown”? Punishment touches the people’s innermost concerns: severe punishment concerns a person’s life, while even light punishment involves a person’s sense of honor and shame. Punishment is imposed directly on the person and reaches deeply into the heart; the people fear it even more than they fear water and fire. Since punishment is so consequential, an official who hesitates and retreats out of concern for suspicion or fear of criticism cannot be called “broad.” And even after investigating a case, an official who lacks compassion, takes pleasure in punishment, or does not aim to reduce it cannot be called one who “sows.” To administer affairs without obstruction is to be “broad”; to correct faults without overlooking any is to “sow.” In this way, the people’s conduct can accord with what is balanced and right, and Gao Yao is no different from the three sage kings. It is no surprise that the ancients used the same words to praise them when they examined the past.

When Yi was assisting Yu, he exclaimed: “Only Virtue can move Heaven; distance makes no difference, for its beneficence reaches everywhere. Self-satisfaction brings loss, while humility brings gain—this is the Way of Heaven. Utmost sincerity can move the spirits; how much more so can it move a people such as the Miao?” Yu bowed in gratitude for Yi’s frank words and said, “Good.” He then reviewed the troops and returned in triumph. Later, Emperor Shun vigorously promoted civil Virtue and held a dance with shields and feather ornaments on either side of the palace steps. After seventy days, the Miao came to submit.

The Hongdao lu says: Why did Yu go on an expedition? Because the land was at peace and Heaven and Earth were well governed, those far away and those nearby should all have shared in their beneficence; no one should be left without the teachings of Yao and Shun. Why did Yi offer this admonition? Because only sincerity can bring an undertaking to completion. If one is self-satisfied and boastful, one must not become arrogant merely because one thing has been accomplished. This beneficence of utmost benevolence has endured for ten thousand generations and still leaves its fragrance today. A gentleman of the present day must understand this principle.

The Book of Shang says: “He was able to be generous and able to be benevolent.”

The Hongdao lu says: What is meant by “generous” refers to a person’s breadth of spirit. Can the Virtue of generosity be applied to benevolence? Shao Yong said: “When the Three Kings governed the world, it was like autumn. The clear, bleak air of autumn inevitably carries an aspect of sternness and severity.” Thus the words “generous and benevolent” were used to praise Tang of Shang; this is what is meant by replacing … with Virtue.

Cruel people?

The Records of the Grand Historian recounts that when Tang the Successful was traveling, he saw someone setting a net on all four sides and praying: “May everything that falls from the sky, crawls out of the earth, or comes from any direction be caught in my net.” Tang the Successful removed the nets from three sides, leaving only one, and prayed: “Those who wish to go left, let them go left; those who wish to go right, let them go right; those who wish to go high, let them go high; those who wish to go low, let them go low. Only those who refuse to follow the command will enter my net.” When the lords of southern Han heard of this, they said, “Tang the Successful’s benevolence and virtue are truly profound!” As a result, more than forty lords submitted to him.

The Hongdao lu comments: This story shows Tang the Successful’s generosity and compassion. He attacked Jie of Xia to save the people. Consider his words: “Those who wish to go left, let them go left; those who wish to go right, let them go right. Only those who refuse to follow the command will enter my net.” Ah, if he treated animals this way, would he have committed an unjust act or killed an innocent person in order to gain the empire? Later generations also put up stone inscriptions forbidding the capture of birds and encouraging the release of living creatures. Why, then, did these fail to win people’s trust?

Mencius said, “Extend the love you feel for your own family to the people; extend your benevolence toward the people to all things.” Tang the Successful strove to bring his great virtue fully to light and to establish a balanced way among the people. His benevolence toward all things ultimately brought people over to his side. If one’s work in practicing benevolence has not yet come far, and one merely happens upon a kind thought or does a small good deed, it is futile to expect results at once. Worse still, if one devotes all one’s attention to compassion, pursues quietude single-mindedly, and regards not killing living beings as the highest virtue and fondness for the Dao as benevolence, that too is futile. This is the point of the commentary in this section.

The Great Learning says, “King Wen was solemn and reverent, his brilliance never fading, and he held himself with care. A ruler should abide in benevolence.”

The Hongdao lu comments: The workings of Heaven are silent and soundless, without shape or trace. Benevolence is exceedingly difficult to describe; how could it be sought in what is shallow and near at hand? It begins in the subtlest part of a thought, so faint it is hard to perceive. When it reaches its utmost, nothing in the world can contain it. It extends everywhere and can never be exhausted. Wisdom reaches throughout the myriad things yet does not go beyond the original mind; virtue governs the world yet does not depart from the heart. This is what it means for a ruler to abide in benevolence.

The Book of Songs uses “mumu” (“solemn and reverent”) to describe King Wen, and this chapter specifically says, “The Son of Heaven is mumu.” How does this differ from the lords’ “huanghuang” (“bright and majestic”)? The Son of Heaven is like Heaven moving above: Heaven is deep and distant, beyond measure. Thus it transforms all things, with the wondrous power of acting swiftly without urging and arriving without moving. A ruler, too, should be deep and distant, beyond measure, and thus be able to…

When the climate turns bitterly cold or intensely hot, there is a subtle principle that reveals itself neither through sound and sight nor through the changing seasons. If people could understand how a single beat of a drum summons thunder, and a single sprinkling brings rain, they would no longer think thunder and rain remarkable. If they could understand how one gesture provokes anger, and a little stimulation brings delight, what would there be to fear? This is the profound meaning the poet of the Book of Songs meant to convey, and it must be understood.

Mencius said, “King Wen regarded the people as if they had been wounded.”

The Hongdao lu explains that this means carrying compassion through to its fullest expression. Mencius also said, “Everyone has a heart that cannot bear to see others suffer.” Is this not the very heart with which King Wen regarded the people as though they had been wounded?

Someone asked: “During King Wen’s reign, the people had suffered no grave injuries, and no one was groaning or lamenting. Moreover, King Wen cared for and protected the people to the utmost. Why, then, say that he regarded them as wounded?”

Understand that a great sage never thinks he has done enough. In the blazing heat of summer, even when rain falls, the people may still complain. In spring, they pray for favorable weather, yet when the cold comes, they complain too. Nor is this all: even in the vastness of Heaven and Earth, people still find something to be dissatisfied with. How, then, could King Wen’s heart ever stop concerning itself with the people? Through his benevolence and virtue, he gradually transformed them, letting compassion sink deep into their hearts, as though permeating skin and bone. This could not be accomplished in a single day.

In ancient times, when King Wen governed Qi, farmers paid one-ninth of their produce in taxes, and officials passed their stipends down through their families. At passes and markets, goods were inspected but no duties were collected. The people were not barred from fishing in lakes and ponds. Criminals’ families were not punished along with them. An old man without a wife was called a widower; an old woman without a husband, a widow; an old person without children, a solitary; and a child without a father, an orphan. These four groups were the most destitute and unsupported people in the realm. Whenever King Wen issued decrees and put benevolent government into practice, he cared for them first. The Book of Songs says, “The wealthy may indeed live in comfort, but pity those who are lonely and without support.”

The Hongdao lu explains that these are concrete ways of carrying compassion through to its fullest expression. King Wen governed only the territory of Qi, a hundred li across, and was not necessarily destined to become Son of Heaven. Yet within that land, he already showed the promise of eight hundred years of benevolent rule. Is this not precisely the principle of governing the realm?

The Commentary on the Changes says, “Qian is father; Kun is mother.” The people, then, are my kin, born together with me from Heaven and Earth. Though widowers, widows, orphans, and solitary people each face different circumstances, the sage regards them as if his own body were itching or ill; their hardships are his own pain. Who could bring themselves to leave them aside? Who could put off attending to them? People harm the innocent and abandon the people because they cannot model themselves on the virtue of Heaven and Earth and follow the nature of Heaven and Earth.

This is saying that if people sever their connection with Heaven themselves and do not even realize it, is that not tragic?

The Book of Odes, “Airs of Zhou: South,” says: “The bream’s tail has turned red; the royal house is burning like a fire. Though it burns like a fire, parents are close at hand.”

The Hongdao lu comments: This is the result of “abiding in benevolence.” Shang Zhou occupied the position of Son of Heaven. The Son of Heaven ought to be the people’s parent; his authority could determine who lived or died, and his power could appoint or dismiss officials. Yet the people’s feeling of turning away from him had grown so strong. The reason, on examination, was simply that he failed to gather together what the people wanted and instead imposed on them what they detested. Thus Jie and Zhou lost the realm because they lost the people’s hearts. Could King Wen, then, beckon the people to join him or push them away and make them leave? Observe the people’s hearts, and you can see Heaven’s heart; observe the people’s fate, and you can see Heaven’s mandate.

The Book of Odes, “Hymns of Zhou,” says: “He brings peace to the myriad states, and year after year there are abundant harvests.”

The Hongdao lu comments: This is the practical result of the sage serving Heaven with benevolence, the fullest response of Heaven’s heart. It is no empty phrase. Why, then, did the Zhou people suffer famine when they conquered Shang, only to enjoy abundant harvests afterward? King Zhou was the master of those throughout the realm who had fled from justice. The people he employed were either exploitative profiteers or arrogant tyrants. Heaven’s loathing of this went beyond the force of thunder and lightning; why would it need to select particular people to strike? The famine the Zhou people suffered was a calamity caused by Shang’s tyrannical rule. Later, when King Wu sent the warhorses back to the southern slopes of Mount Hua and the oxen back to the plains of Taolin, the people settled once more into peaceful, productive lives, good people were able to survive, and the farming methods of Hou Ji were taught to the former subjects of Shang. Thus the stability of the Yin people was a blessing brought by the Zhou. This is the meaning the present book develops beyond the words of the classic.

The Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Government records: South of Jiaozhi lived the Yueshang people, an ancient and distant southern land. They crossed many borders and came to offer tribute, saying, “The road is long, and mountains and rivers are deep and difficult to cross. We feared that one envoy could not make himself understood, so we came to pay court after passing through three interpreters.” The Duke of Zhou said, “If our benevolence has not reached them, a gentleman does not accept their tribute; if our orders have not been carried out among them, a gentleman does not count them as his subjects.” Through an interpreter, the envoys replied, “We came on the orders of the elders of our country. They said that for three years there have been no violent winds or excessive rains in the sky, and no waves on the sea. We thought there might be a sage in the Central States. Why should we not go and pay our respects?” The Duke of Zhou brought the envoys back and reported to King Cheng, declaring that this was due to the divine power of the former kings. He then presented offerings in the suburban shrine, where Heaven, Earth, and the ancestors were worshipped.

The Hongdao lu comments: This is the only such event recorded since writing began, and it is unclear how it was accomplished at the time. The Doctrine of the Mean says: “Thus his fame overflowed throughout the Central States and spread to the lands of the Man and Mo peoples; wherever carriages and boats could reach, wherever human strength could make its way, and wherever Heaven’s covering extended.”

Wherever the earth bears life, the sun and moon shine, and frost and dew descend, all beings with blood and breath honor and draw near to the sage. The sage’s merit can thus match Heaven, and the numinous power of his transformation reaches its utmost: only then do such auspicious signs appear.

For generations, the Zhou dynasty accumulated merit and practiced benevolent rule. After more than a century, during the reigns of Kings Wen, Wu, Cheng, and Kang, the pure, original Qi of Heaven and Earth gathered. Heaven and Earth joined in harmony, and all things were at peace. The sun, moon, and stars shone brightly in the sky, and wind and rain came in season. On earth, the mountains and forests of the Nine Provinces were not barren, and the rivers did not run dry. When King Wen settled in the region around Mount Qi, auspicious grain grew, and the wheat stalks bore two ears. When he withdrew to the countryside, phoenixes called and qilin appeared. From this, one may infer that even the remote lands of the Eight Wastes would be at peace, and that the states would come to pay court without needing interpreters to relay their words several times over. These were natural responses to the depth and subtlety of the sage’s De. Otherwise, how could auspicious signs such as the white wolf and white pheasant have saved a government in decline? How could the Xiongnu leader Huhanye’s bowing in submission have made up for the weakening of the state? In Wang Mang’s time, the court praised and celebrated such signs, but they became no more than pretexts for usurping the throne. Can these events be compared with the Zhou dynasty’s transformation through De?

The Duke of Shao (Shao Gong), a senior minister of the Zhou, traveled through the southern states, spreading King Wen’s policies. At times, he would stop to rest beneath a sweet crabapple tree. Later, the people remembered his kindness and cherished even the tree, unable to bear harming it. So they sang:

“O sweet crabapple, with your lush leaves and branches—do not cut them down, for the Duke of Shao once lodged beneath you.

O sweet crabapple, with your lush leaves and branches—do not hack them back, for the Duke of Shao once rested beneath you.

O sweet crabapple, with your lush leaves and branches—do not wound them, for the Duke of Shao once paused beneath you.”

The Hongdao lu says: When I read the poem “The Sweet Crabapple,” I understood how policies and teachings can take root in people’s hearts, and how kindness can extend to all things. It is like the gentle spring breeze that blows as all things grow. People do not forget its benefit simply because they cannot feel it when winter seals the world away. It is also like the sweet rain that moistens all things and falls everywhere in the growing season. People do not forget how it nourished the plants simply because drought later withers them. Countless years have passed since the Duke of Shao’s time, yet people still recite his words and sing his poems, as though the legacy of his kindness were still before their eyes. How much more must those who lived in his own time have cherished him? This is surely why the gentleman practices benevolent rule and makes people unable to bear harming others.

The southern lords followed the Duke of Shao’s guidance and received King Wen’s teaching. They cultivated themselves and put their households in order, then went on to govern their states well. After extending benevolence to the people, they let its kindness reach every kind of living creature. Thus the poet praised them:

“There, the reeds grow thick and strong; one arrow flies, and five sows fall at once. Ah, this is the Zouyu, the benevolent beast!

There, the mugwort grows thick and strong; one arrow flies, and five piglets fall at once. Ah, this is the Zouyu!”

The Recorder says: In my humble view, the age depicted in “Zhou Nan” and “Shao Nan” was one in which rulers were as benevolent as the qilin, ministers as worthy as the zouyu—a fabled benevolent beast that symbolized virtue—and scholars as incorruptible as those praised in the “Lamb” ode. The common people, meanwhile, were as secure and honored as dukes and marquises. Why was the spirit of harmony so abundant then? Harmony is the original nature of Heaven and Earth, and the virtue of the spirits. When the ruler above practices the benevolent virtue of harmony, and the officials below unite in concord, all things naturally fall into harmony as well. This effect often appears without being deliberately pursued.

Thus, when a ruler is cruel, his ministers become vicious like owls and xing beasts; when a ruler dwells among thorns, his ministers turn into fierce birds of prey like hawks and kites. In such a state, how could there be gentle beasts like the Man and Mao, or rhinoceroses and tigers in the wilds? How could there be flourishing vegetation and abundant birds and beasts? In the second year of the Yongle reign of the Ming dynasty, the Prince of Zhou presented a zouyu, and Confucian ministers composed an ode in response, expressing this same idea.

The “Appended Statements” says: “The greatest virtue of Heaven and Earth is to bring forth and nourish all things; the most precious possession of the sage is the ruler’s throne. How does one preserve the throne? Through benevolence. How does one gather the people? Through wealth.”

The Recorder says: Since ancient times, many have discussed benevolence, but my teacher Confucius was the first to examine this principle in depth. The Book of Changes says that Qian is the father and Kun the mother. If no sage stood between Heaven and Earth to give every thing its proper place, how could Heaven and Earth be at peace, or all things grow? Virtue, therefore, cannot remain mere talk. Only by truly understanding and practicing benevolence can one become a leader of the people. Nor should the ruler’s throne be occupied in name alone: to win the people’s allegiance, one must make them prosperous. Only by gaining the people’s hearts can one gain all under Heaven.

Therefore, benevolence must not be practiced without discernment. The Great Learning says that acting according to the way of the carpenter’s square—extending oneself to others and using one’s own feelings to understand theirs—is benevolence; pursuing private gain without restraint brings resentment. In sum, the key lies simply in the difference between public and private motives.

Duke Ai of Lu asked about government, and Confucius replied: “The governing principles of King Wen and King Wu of Zhou are recorded in the classics. When capable people are present, those principles are put into practice; when they are absent, the principles fall into disuse. The way of human affairs lies in carrying out government swiftly; the way of the land lies in growing trees swiftly. Government is like the pudu—a creature traditionally said to be a kind of wasp, known for reproducing and transforming its young rapidly—and takes effect quickly. Thus, the key to governing is the choice of officials. Choosing capable people depends on cultivating oneself; cultivating oneself requires following the Way; and clarifying the Way takes benevolence as its foundation. Benevolence means loving people. Love for one’s family is most important; righteousness means what is fitting, and respect for the worthy is most important. Love for one’s family varies according to degrees of closeness, and respect for the worthy also follows a hierarchy. From these distinctions arise the rites.

“Therefore, the noble person must cultivate himself. To cultivate himself, he must serve his parents; to serve his parents, he must understand people; to understand people, he must understand the Way of Heaven. There are five universal ways in the world, and three fundamental principles for putting them into practice: the way between ruler and minister, the way between father and son, the way between husband and wife, the way between elder and younger brother, and the way of friendship…”

There are five principles that are followed throughout the world, and three virtues that are recognized throughout the world: wisdom, benevolence, and courage. The foundation for putting these principles and virtues into practice is a single word: sincerity. Some understand them naturally, some come to understand them through study, and some only after experiencing confusion. But once they understand, the result is the same. Some act with ease and willingness, some because they see the benefit, and some by forcing themselves to persevere. But once they have accomplished it, the result is also the same.

Duke Ai of Lu said, “Your words are truly fine and far-reaching! But my own abilities are so limited that I fear I cannot put them into practice.” Confucius replied, “Loving learning brings one close to wisdom; making a strenuous effort to act brings one close to benevolence; knowing shame brings one close to courage. Understand these three things, and you will know how to cultivate yourself. Know how to cultivate yourself, and you will know how to govern others. Know how to govern others, and you will know how to govern the world and the state.

“There are nine fundamental principles for governing the world and the state, known as the Nine Guidelines: cultivate yourself, honor the worthy, cherish your kin, respect your ministers, show consideration for officials, care for the people, attract artisans of every kind, comfort those from afar, and treat the feudal lords with graciousness. Cultivate yourself, and the way of governing the state will be established. Honor the worthy, and you will not be confused in your affairs. Cherish your kin, and uncles, elders, and brothers will have no cause for resentment. Respect your ministers, and the conduct of government will not be disordered. Show consideration for officials, and scholars will value and repay your courtesy. Care for the people, and they will work diligently. Attract artisans of every kind, and goods and implements will be plentiful. Comfort those from afar, and people from all quarters will come to you. Treat the feudal lords with graciousness, and the whole world will hold you in awe.

“Set your mind in order, dress properly, and do only what accords with ritual: this is how to cultivate yourself. Keep away from slander and sensual pleasures, and value De above material wealth: this is how to encourage the worthy. Raise the standing of your kin, increase their stipends, and share their likes and dislikes: this is how to encourage your kin. Provide enough official posts for ministers to appoint their subordinates: this is how to encourage ministers. Treat people with loyalty and trustworthiness, and grant them generous stipends: this is how to treat scholars. Call on the people for labor at the proper times and reduce their taxes: this is how to encourage the people. Inspect work daily, assess it monthly, and grant pay according to achievement: this is how to encourage artisans. See off those who depart and welcome those who arrive, commend the virtuous, and show consideration for those with limited ability: this is how to comfort those from afar. Continue lineages that have been cut off, restore states that have been abolished, bring order to the disordered and aid those in danger; hold court audiences and diplomatic visits at the proper times; treat visitors generously and accept only modest gifts in return: this is how to treat the feudal lords with graciousness.

“Though these nine fundamental principles govern the world and the state, their practice still rests on a single word: sincerity. In all things, preparation brings success, while lack of preparation leads to failure. If words are thought through in advance, they will not falter when spoken. If affairs are planned in advance, they will not become difficult to carry out. If actions are determined beforehand, they will leave no regrets. If the way of governing the state is established in advance, its implementation will not lead to a dead end.

“Those who occupy lower positions cannot govern the people if they have not gained the trust of those above them…”

This scripture primarily explores the importance of sincerity (诚) and the principles of governance. It first points out that if those in high positions cannot gain the trust of friends, they will struggle to earn the confidence of their superiors. To win the trust of friends, one must first be filial to their parents; filial piety, in turn, requires personal sincerity; and to achieve sincerity, one must understand what is good. Sincerity is the Dao (the Way) of heaven, while striving for sincerity is the Dao of humanity. Those born with innate sincerity effortlessly align with the Dao without forcing it, and grasp truth without deliberation—this is the realm of sages. Ordinary people, however, must choose the path of goodness and persist in practice, achieving sincerity through extensive learning, thorough questioning, careful reflection, clear discernment, and earnest action. If one fails to learn, they must keep learning; if a question remains unclear, they must keep asking; if a thought remains unresolved, they must keep pondering; if a distinction remains obscure, they must keep discerning; if an action remains unfulfilled, they must keep acting. What others accomplish in one attempt, one should pursue a hundred times; what others achieve in ten attempts, one should pursue a thousand times. In this way, even the dull-witted will become wise, and even the weak will grow strong.

Later, the text states that governance lies in people, not in mere scholarship. Confucius emphasized morality and fundamental principles when discussing governance, whereas later generations focused excessively on legal statutes. Mencius taught that all people possess a heart incapable of bearing the suffering of others (compassion). Ancient kings, because of this compassion, were able to implement benevolent governance. For example, upon seeing a child about to fall into a well, anyone would feel alarm and sympathy—not to curry favor with the child’s parents or seek fame.

Finally, the scripture observes that true cruelty lies in wounding people’s hearts with a blade. King Xuan of Qi could not bear to kill an ox, yet he destroyed others’ ancestral temples, seized sacred vessels, and enslaved the people—this is genuine cruelty. The example of King Hui of Liang (though the scripture does not elaborate here) conveys a similar message. This passage underscores that governance must be rooted in sincerity and benevolence, not in reliance on legal technicalities.

A ruler who cannot bear to see his people go hungry would not allow the situation to arise in which he is defeated by Qi in the east, loses Qin territory in the west, and suffers humiliation at the hands of Chu in the south. Could such a ruler endure that? By Mencius’s time, the age of high antiquity lay far behind, and the world was in turmoil, with disorder unending. People’s feelings of alarm and compassion had grown very faint. Even a thousand words of argument were often overwhelmed by self-interest. Unless one firmly grasps the sincere goodness within people’s hearts, so that everyone can experience and verify it for themselves, what benefit is there in speaking this way? The story of “a child about to fall into a well”—the thought experiment in which seeing a child on the verge of falling into a well naturally gives rise to alarm and compassion—explains a principle that the sages of earlier times had not made clear. It must be recorded.

Teng Wengong asked about the way to govern a state. Mencius replied, “The people’s livelihood must not be neglected. The Book of Songs says: ‘By day they go to cut the thatch; at night they twist it into rope. They hurry to mend the roof, ready to begin sowing the hundred grains.’ The ordinary condition of the people’s lives is this: those with a secure livelihood have a steady heart, while those without a secure livelihood find it hard to keep a steady heart. Without a steady heart, they will give themselves over to reckless conduct and stray into wrongdoing; there is nothing they will not do. Then, once they have committed crimes, to punish them is to set a net for the people. How can a benevolent ruler, once in office, entrap the people in this way?

“Therefore, a wise ruler is always respectful and frugal, treats people with courtesy, and levies taxes on the people at a fixed rate. Under the Xia, tribute was collected once for every fifty mu of land; under the Shang, the zhu system was used for every seventy mu, with labor on the communal fields serving as tax; under the Zhou, the che system was used for every hundred mu, with taxes assessed according to the land. In fact, all came to about one-tenth. ‘Che’ means to make things available for use; ‘zhu’ means to enlist labor to cultivate the communal fields. Teng already has a hereditary stipend system. The Book of Songs says: ‘Rain falls upon our communal fields, and also upon our private fields.’ Only the zhu system had communal fields. From this we can see that even the Zhou once used the zhu system.

“The ruler should also establish institutions called xiang, xu, and schools to educate the people. ‘Xiang’ carries the meaning of nurturing, ‘xiao’ the meaning of teaching, and ‘xu’ the meaning of archery practice. Under the Xia, schools were called ‘xiao’; under the Shang, they were called ‘xu’; under the Zhou, they were called ‘xiang.’ ‘School’ was a name shared by all three dynasties. These institutions were all meant to clarify the principles of human relations. When those above understand the way of human relations, the people will grow close to one another and live in harmony. If a true king should arise in the future, he will surely take this as his model. Such a person is a teacher to kings. The Book of Songs says: ‘Though Zhou was an ancient state, its Mandate from Heaven was ever renewed.’ This refers to King Wen of Zhou. I am willing to do my utmost to put these practices into effect and renew your state.”

Teng Wengong again sent Bi Zhan to ask about the well-field system. Mencius said, “Your ruler intends to practice benevolent government, which is why he chose you and sent you here. You must do your utmost. Benevolent government must begin with laying out the boundaries of the fields. If the boundaries are not correctly drawn, the allotment of well-fields will be unequal, and the income from stipends will be unfair. Therefore, tyrannical rulers and corrupt officials are sure to treat the system of field boundaries lightly. Once the boundaries…”

Once the arrangements for farmland and the system of official stipends have been properly settled, matters can be decided while seated. Teng was a small state. As its ruler, should you be a gentleman or a farmer? Without gentlemen, there would be no one to govern the farmers; without farmers, there would be no one to support the gentlemen. Therefore, in the countryside, taxes should be collected at a rate of one-ninth, with farmers working the public fields together. In the town, fields should be taxed at one-tenth, collected separately.

Officials below the rank of minister should each have a ritual field (land to support their sacrifices and household needs). A ritual field consists of fifty mu; a “surplus man” (a man over twenty-five who has not established a separate household) receives twenty-five mu. In cases such as death or relocation, the land no longer remains the individual’s property. Public and rural fields alike should be divided according to the well-field system: those whose land lies within the same well should show one another affection in their daily comings and goings, help one another keep watch and defend their homes, and care for one another when ill. In this way, the people will grow close and live in harmony. A square li is divided into one well, totaling nine hundred mu, with the public field set aside in the center. Each of eight households has a private field of one hundred mu, and they cultivate the public field together. Only after the work on the public field is finished may they tend their own private fields. This is the method for distinguishing the farmers’ duties. What I have described is only the general scheme; how to adapt and refine it to suit local conditions must be decided by you and the ruler.

The Record of Broadening the Way states: Mencius explained the well-field system of benevolent government to Duke Wen of Teng, just as You Ruo had once advised Duke Ai of Lu to adopt the “che method” (a system of collecting land tax at a set rate). Duke Wen of Teng later sent Bi Zhan to consult Mencius about the well-field system. This shows that his natural endowment and sincerity were worlds apart from Duke Ai’s.

Since written records began, no account of benevolent government has been more detailed than this. Yet when gentlemen read it, they often cannot help but sigh with regret: alas, the difficulty lies not in speaking of it, but in putting it into practice. What difference is there, for later generations, between the systems of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties? The teachings and laws of sages and worthies are like the carpenter’s ink line and a physician’s prescription. If one has no wish to make a properly squared object, that is one thing; but if one does, how can one say, “I will not use Lu Ban’s tools”? If one has no wish to perform acupuncture, that is one thing; but if one does, how can one say, “I will not use Physician Lu’s method”? Thus, if a sage king were to arise, he would certainly take these systems as his model. In this way, the sages become teachers to sage kings. The sages devoted themselves to studying these principles for no other reason than this. How can later generations, intent only on achieving distinction and hoping for immediate results, be compared with them?

The Monthly Ordinances in the Book of Rites says: On the first day of spring, the Son of Heaven personally leads the Three Dukes, the Nine Ministers, the feudal lords, and the high officers to the eastern suburbs to welcome spring. On returning, he rewards the ministers and high officers at court and orders the chief minister to proclaim virtuous policies, harmonize government directives, grant favors, and bestow blessings upon the people. In this month, the qi of Heaven descends and the qi of Earth rises; Heaven and Earth unite in harmony, and plants and trees begin to sprout. The Son of Heaven orders the announcement of the agricultural schedule, teaches the people to cultivate the fields, and has the sacrificial rites put in order. The sacrificial animals are not to be…

Trees must not be cut down, lest they fall and destroy birds’ nests. Do not kill young insects or harm life in the womb or newly hatched birds. Do not hunt female musk deer or destroy nests where birds are incubating their eggs. Do not gather large crowds, and do not leave coffins—both the inner coffin and its outer case—unattended. When you encounter exposed bones, cover them; when you find scattered human remains, gather and bury them.

Warfare must not be undertaken this month. Raising troops to fight will surely bring calamity from Heaven. I should not be the one to initiate war. Do not defy the Dao of Heaven, cut off the earth’s vitality, or disrupt the order of human society.

The Record says: The text concludes with the Monthly Ordinances—its prescriptions and prohibitions for each month—because the world is steadily declining, the way of benevolence and righteousness has fallen into disuse, and rulers’ virtue has waned. Only a sage can follow the Dao of Heaven above and fulfill human affairs below. As for ourselves, we too should cultivate a heart of compassion in advance and put the way of benevolence into practice widely.