2. The relations of the ruler to his subjects.—With Lao-tzŭ, as with all Chinese writers on politics, the mode in which, government ought to be conducted is a supremely important subject. In his homely manner, he compares the ruling of a large kingdom to the cooking of a small fish, or the handling of a fine and delicate implement.[10] Too much cooking spoils the implement. So is it with the kingdom. It is an etherial instrument which cannot be wrought with—if one works with it he destroys it, and if one handles it he loses it.
The first duty of the ruler is to rectify himself—to overcome his appetites and passions.[11] He must cultivate virtue in himself, and proceeding thence he will have it cultivated in his family, and finally in all the empire; and thus the kingdom will remain established in his family for generations to come.[12] He must be serious and grave[13] in his deportment, remembering the greatness of his charge, and whence it was derived. By levity of conduct he will lose his ministers, and by violent proceedings he will lose his throne. His models ought to be the Earth,[14] which is always in peaceful rest, and the rulers of antiquity, who followed Nature (Tao). In the early days of innocence and simplicity, subjects only knew that they had rulers, so lightly lay the hand of government on them.[15] Then came the time when rulers were loved and lauded, then the time when they were feared, and lastly that in which they were treated with contumely. The prince of the present time ought to return as far as possible to the primitive ways. He should, like the great Universal Nature, be free from show of action[16]—if he could only keep the law of Nature, his kingdom would, as a matter of course, be in a state of order and tranquility—all things would submit to him, and become, of their own accord, transformed to a state of goodness[17]—even the demons would cease to possess elfish power; or if they still possessed it, they would not use it to the detriment of men. The prince ought also, at least outwardly, to be humble and modest, not arrogating precedence and superiority, but rather using the language of self-abasement.[18]
In the exercise of government Lao-tzŭ does not allow the use of violence, and he inveighs nobly against military oppression. If the prince keep himself from being absorbed in worldly interests—do not confer honour and emoluments on brilliant parts—nor prize what the world holds valuable—nor make display of that which is coveted: his example will have such virtue that all his subjects will cease from strife and violence, and live in peaceful obedience.[19] But if he try to have the empire through force, he will fail. He who according to the Law of Nature (Tao) would assist the prince will not compel the empire by arms—this sort of thing is wont to have its recompense. Where the General pitches his tent, thorns and briers spring up; and in the wake of a great army there are inevitably bad years. If there be necessity for fighting—and only then—he who is wise in ruling will strike a decisive blow at the fit time, and then lay down his arms, not glorying in his conquest. Fine arms are inauspicious implements, hated by all things; and he who holds to Nature will not continue to use them. The noble man (君子) in private life esteems the left side, and in time of war esteems the right—the left being symbolic of the Yang (陽) or preserving principle, and the right of the Yin (陰) or killing principle. Arms are inauspicious implements—not such as the noble man employs; he uses them only when he has no alternative, but he looks on superiority with indifference, and takes no glory in victory. He who glories in victory delights in the massacre of men, and such an one cannot have his will in the empire. To him who slays a multitude of men, a position of dignity is assigned corresponding to that of the chief mourner at a funeral, viz., the right hand side, which in inauspicious matters is the post of honour, just as in auspicious matters the left hand side is the post of honour.[20] Thus not only is the ruler not to use military power to keep his subjects in subjection, but he is also not to drag these latter into war for his own aggrandisement. The fighting to which Lao-tzŭ mainly alludes is that of the different principalities of the country among themselves, and on this subject the words of Pascal may be not unaptly added to those of our author:—“Le plus grand des maux est les guerres civiles. Elles sont sûres si on veut récompenser le mérite; car tous diraient qu’ils meritent. Le mal à craindre d’un sot qui succède par droit de naissance n’est ni si grand ni si sûr.”[21] War is the result, according to Lao-tzŭ, of bad government, of the lust of power and property. If good government prevail in a country, its fleet horses will be employed on the farm; but if ill government prevail, and lust and ambition have scope, feuds will continue until war steeds beget war steeds on the plains of the frontier.[22] Whether, therefore, for the purpose of solidifying the prince’s power over his subjects, or for state aggrandisement, war and all violent measures are interdicted.
But not only does Lao-tzŭ thus advise the ruler against using military power in his realm; he also recommends the doing away with capital punishment—indeed with all punishment whatever. The people do not fear death, and how then is it to be used to keep them in dread? If the people could be made to have a constant fear of death, and some commit a crime, and be apprehended and put to death, would any one continue to venture on offending? It is presumptuous then for the magistrate to use capital punishment. There is the eternal executioner, and he who puts to death for him is like the man who fells a tree for the head wood-man; and such an one seldom fails to wound his hand.[23] Capital punishment is thus reserved for something superhuman to execute; and the earthly magistrate has only to endeavour to lead a life free from the appearance of lust and violence.[24]
It is by justice that a kingdom is well governed, as by stratagem a war is conducted.[25] Yet the prince must be lenient to his people. If restrictions on liberty of action be multiplied, so that his subjects cannot lift a hand or move a foot without incurring guilt, they will be prevented from pursuing their industry, and so become poor.[26]
The levying of excessive taxes[27] by those in authority for the indulgence of their sensual appetites, also impoverishes a people, and accordingly in government there is nothing like economy.[28] To keep the court in affluence while the fields are weed-grown and the public granaries exhausted; for the rulers to have expensive clothing, sharp swords, sumptuous food and excessive wealth, is to glory in plunder, but not to follow Nature. Nor may the prince break his word with subjects—as want of faith in him is followed by want of faith in them.[29]
It is not necessary for the ruler to explain the nature and method of his government. On the contrary he ought to keep his counsels and his conduct secret. Inasmuch as the fish cannot with impunity leave its element, so the sharp engines of government may not be displayed.[30] When the laws are numerous and obtrusively exhibited, the people become thieves and robbers; but when they are not so, the people continue decent and orderly.[31] Thus it is better that the rulers keep the populace in a state of ignorance and stupidity.[32] The ancient kings went on this principle, and had peaceful reigns.[33] In his own time Lao-tsŭ considered that the difficulty of keeping the people well governed arose from their being too knowing. He would accordingly like to see them recalled to the ways of primitive simplicity, so that their arms would be unworn, and their boats and cars unused. He would like to have the people return to the manners of the times when knotted cords were still the symbols of words, and would have them relish their food, enjoy their clothes, feel comfortable in their homes, and delight in their social institutions.[34] He would have them brought to think seriously of death, so that they would end their days in their own country and never leave it for another, even though it were so near that the respective inhabitants could hear the cackling of the fowls and the barking of the dogs in the two places. Thus, while the prince keeps his subjects simple and ignorant, he must have their bodily wants supplied. The godlike man when he rules empties the minds of the people, and fills their stomachs; weakens their wills, and strengthens their bones (that is, their animal power).[35] He treats them as children, and is always kind, postponing his own comfort to their good.
The mode in which the ruler is to obtain respect and esteem from his subjects is by deporting himself humbly towards them, and he must never arrogate greatness to himself.[36] His conduct should be calm and unostentatious, while inwardly he is anxious; and his gravity and quietness of deportment ought never to be departed from. The prince is to save his people, as it were, by setting before them an example of humility, forbearance, and all the other virtues which save a country from being imbroiled in wars and rebellions—he is to be of one heart and one mind with them, and have no will independent of theirs.[37]
These are the principal duties of the king to his people as indicated or conceived of by Lao-tzŭ—the king being in his contemplation an absolute sovereign. I shall now add, as a comment, the views on this subject set forth by two other authors in widely different circumstances. The writer of Deuteronomy says:—“When thou art come into the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, and shalt possess it, and shalt dwell therein, and shalt say, I will set a king over me, like as all the nations that are about me; thou shalt in any wise set him king over thee, whom the Lord thy God shall choose; one from among thy brethren shalt thou set king over thee; thou mayest not set a stranger over thee, which is not thy brother. But he shall not multiply horses to himself, nor cause the people to return to Egypt, to the end that he should multiply horses: *** Neither shall he multiply wives to himself, that his heart turn not away, neither shall he greatly multiply to himself silver and gold, &c. *** That his heart be not lifted up above his brethren, and that he turn not aside from the commandment to the right hand or to the left; to the end that he may prolong his days in his kingdom, he, and his children, in the midst of Israel.”[38]
The other writer is the philosopher of Malmesbury. After establishing for the king a title as extravagantly high as any oriental flatterer could have done, he proceeds to prescribe his duties to his people. These are summed up in the sentence, “The safety of the people is the supreme law”—according to the old maxim, “Salus populi suprema lex.” Under this are included both spiritual and temporal benefits; but the difficulty about the former is left in suspense. Of the latter he says:—“The benefits of subjects respecting this life only, may be distributed into four kinds—1, That they be defended against foreign enemies; 2, That peace be preserved at home; 3, That they be enriched, as much as may consist with public security; 4, That they enjoy a harmless liberty.”[39]