PERSONAL CHARACTER OF HIS TEACHINGS.
After his demise Mencius was honored, by public act, with the title of ‘Holy Prince of the country of Tsau,’ and in the temple of the sages he receives the same honors as Confucius; his descendants bear the title of ‘Masters of the Traditions concerning the Classics,’ and he himself is called A-shing, or the ‘Secondary Sage,’ Confucius being regarded as the first. His writings are in the form of dialogues held with the great personages of his time, and abound with irony and ridicule directed against vice and oppression, which only make his praises of virtue and integrity more weighty. After the manner of Socrates, he contests nothing with his adversaries, but, while granting their premises, he seeks to draw from them consequences the most absurd, which cover his opponents with confusion.
The king of Wei, one of the turbulent princes of the time, was complaining to Mencius how ill he succeeded in his endeavors to make his people happy and his kingdom flourishing. “Prince,” said the philosopher, “you love war; permit me to draw a comparison from thence: two armies are in presence; the charge is sounded, the battle begins, one of the parties is conquered; half its soldiers have fled a hundred paces, the other half has stopped at fifty. Will the last have any right to mock at those who have fled further than themselves?”
“No,” said the king; “they have equally taken flight, and the same disgrace must attend them both.”
“Prince,” says Mencius quickly, “cease then to boast of your efforts as greater than your neighbors’. You have all deserved the same reproach, and not one has a right to take credit to himself over another.” Pursuing then his bitter interrogations, he asked, “Is there a difference, O king! between killing a man with a club or with a sword?” “No,” said the prince. “Between him who kills with the sword, or destroys by an inhuman tyranny?” “No,” again replied the prince.
“Well,” said Mencius, “your kitchens are encumbered with food, your sheds are full of horses, while your subjects, with emaciated countenances, are worn down with misery, or found dead of hunger in the middle of the fields or the deserts. What is this but to breed animals to prey on men? And what is the difference between destroying them by the sword or by unfeeling conduct? If we detest those savage animals which mutually tear and devour each other, how much more should we abhor a prince who, instead of being a father to his people, does not hesitate to rear animals to destroy them. What kind of father to his people is he who treats his children so unfeelingly, and has less care of them than of the wild beasts he provides for?”
On one occasion, addressing the prince of Tsí, Mencius remarked: “It is not the ancient forests of a country which do it honor, but its families devoted for many generations to the duties of the magistracy. Oh, king! in all your service there are none such; those whom you yesterday raised to honor, what are they to-day?”
“In what way,” replied the king, “can I know beforehand that they are without virtue, and remove them?”
“In raising a sage to the highest dignities of the State,” replied the philosopher, “a king acts only as he is of necessity bound to do. But to put a man of obscure condition over the nobles of his kingdom, or one of his remote kindred over princes more nearly connected with him, demands most careful deliberation. Do his courtiers unite in speaking of a man as wise, let him distrust them. If all the magistrates of his kingdom concur in the same assurance, let him not rest satisfied with their testimony, but if his subjects confirm the story, then let him convince himself; and if he finds that the individual is indeed a sage, let him raise him to office and honor. So, also, if all his courtiers would oppose his placing confidence in a minister, let him not give heed to them; and if all the magistrates are of this opinion, let him be deaf to their solicitations; but if the people unite in the same request, then let him examine the object of their ill-will, and, if guilty, remove him. In short, if all the courtiers think that a minister should suffer death, the prince must not content himself with their opinion merely. If all the high officers entertain the same sentiment, still he must not yield to their convictions; but if the people declare that such a man is unfit to live, then the prince, inquiring himself and being satisfied that the charge is true, must condemn the guilty to death; in such a case, we may say that the people are his judges. In acting thus a prince becomes the parent of his subjects.”
The will of the people is always referred to as the supreme power in the State, and Mencius warns princes that they must both please and benefit their people, observing that “if the country is not subdued in heart there will be no such thing as governing it;” and also, “He who gains the hearts of the people secures the throne, and he who loses the people’s hearts loses the throne.” A prince should “give and take what is pleasing to them, and not do that which they hate.” “Good laws,” he further remarks, “are not equal to winning the people by good instruction.” Being consulted by a sovereign, whether he ought to attempt the conquest of a neighboring territory, he answered: “If the people of Yen are delighted, then take it; but if otherwise, not.” He also countenances the dethroning of a king who does not rule his people with a regard to their happiness, and adduces the example of the founders of the Shang and Chau dynasties in proof of its propriety. “When the prince is guilty of great errors,” is his doctrine, “the minister should reprove him; if, after doing so again and again, he does not listen, he ought to dethrone him and put another in his place.”