A Parisian Premiere with Eastern Roots

In 1755, an extraordinary cultural transmission occurred at the Palace of Versailles. The French court theater presented a new play titled “The Orphan of China” by Voltaire, one of the Enlightenment’s most influential thinkers. King Louis XV and the French aristocracy watched intently as the drama unfolded, its themes of loyalty and sacrifice resonating deeply within the gilded halls. Contemporary accounts describe audience members moved to tears by the characters’ noble sentiments, their emotional response signaling the beginning of a remarkable theatrical success.

Voltaire’s play would become a lasting fixture on Western stages, representing one of the earliest successful exports of Chinese cultural narratives to Europe. This achievement was particularly remarkable given that Voltaire never visited China himself. During this period, access to China was largely limited to merchants and missionaries, and it was through the latter that Voltaire encountered his source material: a French of the Chinese classic “The Orphan of Zhao.”

Historical Foundations in Sima Qian’s Records

The story Voltaire adapted stretches back to ancient China’s Spring and Autumn period by Sima Qian around 94 BCE. As China’s first comprehensive historical work, the Shiji established patterns of historical writing that would influence Chinese historiography for millennia. Sima Qian, often called the Herodotus of China, compiled biographies of notable figures alongside chronological records, creating a multifaceted historical tapestry.

The Zhao family orphan narrative appears in the “Hereditary House of Zhao” section, which documents the influential Zhao clan in the state of Jin during the tumultuous centuries before China’s unification. The Jin state, located in modern-day Shanxi province, was one of the most powerful polities during the Spring and Autumn period, its internal conflicts often mirroring the larger struggles between competing Chinese states.

The Rise and Fall of the Zhao Clan

The tragedy begins during the reign of Duke Jing of Jin, who governed from 599 to 581 BCE. The Zhao family had established itself as one of Jin’s most powerful clans through generations of service. When Zhao Dun, the family patriarch died, his son Zhao Shuo inherited leadership of the clan. Recognizing Zhao Shuo’s evident talent and character, Duke Jing arranged a strategic marriage between the young nobleman and his own sister, Princess Zhuang Ji, cementing an alliance between the ruling house and the powerful Zhao family.

Meanwhile, a sinister figure waited in the wings. Tu’an Gu, a court official known for his manipulative abilities, harbored deep resentment toward the Zhao family. Years earlier, after the death of Duke Ling of Jin, Zhao Dun had demoted Tu’an Gu for his sycophantic behavior. Now, during the third year of Duke Jing’s reign, Tu’an Gu had regained favor and been appointed Minister of Justice, a position granting him significant judicial power.

The historical context reveals this appointment as part of broader political patterns. During the Spring and Autumn period, ministerial families increasingly vied for influence, sometimes overshadowing the ducal houses they supposedly served. The Jin state particularly exemplified this trend, with several powerful clans competing for dominance.

A Plot for Vengeance Unfolds

Tu’an Gu, described in Sima Qian’s account as fundamentally untrustworthy despite his rehabilitation, began plotting the complete destruction of the Zhao clan. His method relied on exploiting the ruler’s fears through careful manipulation. Approaching Duke Jing, Tu’an Gu framed his personal vendetta as a matter of state security and legal principle.

“Your Majesty,” Tu’an Gu argued, “when Zhao Dun assassinated Duke Ling, he committed a grave crime against the state. If such actions go unpunished, others may follow this dangerous precedent, inevitably leading to disorder.”

Duke Jing, perhaps swayed by Tu’an Gu’s rhetoric or concerned about powerful ministerial families, agreed that strong action was necessary. Tu’an Gu pressed his advantage: “Although Zhao Dun was not physically present at the assassination, he led the conspiracy. When subjects murder their ruler, yet their descendants continue to hold office, they represent a corrupting influence. Criminals must not escape justice—I beg you to authorize the elimination of the Zhao clan!”

This exchange reflects the complex political philosophy of the era, where maintaining social order sometimes conflicted with the practical realities of court politics. Duke Jing’s approval of the Zhao clan’s destruction illustrates how legal principles could be weaponized for political elimination.

Warnings Unheeded

Han Jue, another court official and friend to Zhao Shuo, learned of the impending attack and urgently warned the Zhao clan leader. Rather than flee, Zhao Shuo responded with what Sima Qian portrays as resigned acceptance of his fate. “If the ruler commands a subject to die, the subject must die,” Zhao Shuo declared, expressing a foundational principle of Confucian political thought that emphasized hierarchical obedience.

Zhao Shuo placed his hope in his friend’s future assistance: “With you alive, the Zhao lineage will not be extinguished. Therefore I can die without regret.” Following this exchange, Han Jue feigned illness and withdrew from court affairs, a common strategy for officials seeking to avoid political turmoil while maintaining plausible deniability.

Soon afterward, Tu’an Gu led soldiers in a surprise attack on the Zhao family residence at Xiagong. In the violent assault, Zhao Shuo and his three uncles—Zhao Kuo, Zhao Tong, and Zhao Yingqi—were killed. The systematic destruction of the Zhao clan, including the confiscation of their lands by the state, became known historically as the “Disaster at Xiagong.”

The Survivor and Her Protectors

Amid the carnage, one crucial member of the Zhao household escaped: Princess Zhuang Ji, who was pregnant with Zhao Shuo’s child. She found refuge in the royal palace with her brother, Duke Jing, where she could await childbirth under relative protection. The princess’s survival highlighted the complex loyalties of the period—as a member of the ruling house by birth but the Zhao family by marriage, her position embodied the tensions between different power centers.

The Zhao tragedy also revealed the depth of loyalty the clan had inspired among its followers. Two men in particular—Gongsun Chujiu, a retainer of the Zhao family, and Cheng Ying, a friend of Zhao Shuo—determined to preserve the Zhao lineage despite the risks. Gongsun Chujiu, feeling deep gratitude for the Zhao family’s past generosity, initially planned to commit suicide to follow his patrons in death.

His confrontation with Cheng Ying reveals the story’s central moral dilemma. “Why haven’t you killed yourself?” Gongsun Chujiu demanded. “I intend to die immediately to accompany the Zhao family in death!” Rather than taking offense, Cheng Ying revealed his knowledge of Princess Zhuang Ji’s pregnancy and his different understanding of loyalty: “If Zhao Shuo’s wife gives birth to a son, I will nourish and protect the child. If she bears a daughter, meaning the Zhao line will end, then I will die.”

The Birth of Hope

Shortly thereafter, Princess Zhuang Ji indeed gave birth to a son, named Zhao Wu. News of the birth reached Tu’an Gu, who recognized the child as a potential threat to his security. Determined to eliminate this last remnant of the Zhao clan, Tu’an Gu led soldiers into the palace to search for the infant.

In one of the story’s most dramatic moments, Princess Zhuang Ji hid her son within her robes and whispered: “If the Zhao lineage is destined to end, then cry aloud; if the Zhao family can escape this catastrophe, remain silent.” Miraculously, when soldiers searched her chambers, the infant made no sound, escaping detection.

This scene embodies multiple cultural elements—the mother’s desperate prayer, the child’s seemingly understanding compliance, and the theme of divine protection for a just cause. In Confucian tradition, such miraculous occurrences often signaled heaven’s approval of a moral undertaking.

A Desperate Strategy

When Cheng Ying learned that the initial search had failed but that Tu’an Gu would likely continue looking for the child, he approached Gongsun Chujiu to devise a more permanent solution. “Even though Tu’an Gu didn’t find him this time,” Cheng Ying worried, “what if he searches again and succeeds?”

Their subsequent conversation would determine the story’s most famous plot development. Gongsun Chujiu posed a fundamental question: “Which is more difficult—raising the orphan to adulthood, or dying for the cause?”

Cheng Ying responded thoughtfully: “Dying is easier, of course. Raising the child is far more difficult.”

Gongsun Chujiu then revealed his sacrificial plan: “The Zhao family treated you well. You should undertake the difficult task, while I will take the easy path of death.” This exchange establishes one of the story’s central ethical conflicts—the relative value of different forms of loyalty and sacrifice.

The Great Deception

The two men devised an elaborate ruse to save the Zhao orphan. They acquired another infant and dressed him in fine clothing, hiding him in the mountains. Cheng Ying then approached Tu’an Gu’s forces and claimed that Gongsun Chujiu had kidnapped the real Zhao heir. When soldiers followed Cheng Ying to Gongsun Chujiu’s hiding place, they found the old man with an infant whom he claimed was the Zhao descendant.

In the ensuing confrontation, Gongsun Chujiu and the substitute child were killed, while Cheng Ying preserved his reputation as a collaborator with Tu’an Gu’s regime. This complex deception required Cheng Ying to live with the stigma of betrayal while secretly protecting the true heir. The psychological burden of being perceived as a traitor by his contemporaries added profound depth to Cheng Ying’s sacrifice.

The historical account suggests that the real Zhao Wu was raised in secrecy, possibly in the remote countryside, while Cheng Ying maintained his position at court. This period of hidden upbringing lasted approximately fifteen years, during which Duke Jing died and was succeeded by Duke Dao of Jin.

Restoration and Legacy

The story reaches its resolution when Han Jue, who had maintained his distance from court politics, saw an opportunity to reveal the truth to the new ruler. With Duke Dao established on the throne, Han Jue exposed Tu’an Gu’s crimes and revealed that the Zhao heir still lived. The adult Zhao Wu was restored to his family’s position, and Tu’an Gu faced execution for his treachery.

The historical Zhao Wu indeed regained his family’s status, and the Zhao clan would later play a crucial role in Jin politics, eventually becoming one of the three families that partitioned the state of Jin in 403 BCE, an event that marked the beginning of the Warring States period.

The Orphan of Zhao narrative endured as one of Chinese literature’s most powerful stories of sacrifice and loyalty. Its themes resonated with Confucian values emphasizing family continuity, righteous vengeance, and ethical obligation. The story has been adapted countless times in Chinese opera, literature, and more recently, film and television.

East Meets West: Voltaire’s Adaptation

When Jesuit missionaries brought the story to Europe in the early 18th century, it arrived at a pivotal moment in intellectual history. The Enlightenment thinkers were seeking alternatives to European traditions, and China represented an ancient civilization with sophisticated philosophical systems. Voltaire, in particular, saw in Chinese culture evidence that morality could exist independently of Christian revelation.

Voltaire’s “The Orphan of China” adapted the story to critique European absolutism and promote Enlightenment values. He transformed the setting to the Mongol Yuan dynasty, framing the conflict between Genghis Khan’s barbarism and Chinese civilization. Where the Chinese original emphasized family loyalty, Voltaire highlighted universal humanism and the civilizing power of reason.

The play’s success in Paris demonstrated Europe’s growing fascination with Chinoiserie and philosophical alternatives to established traditions. Voltaire’s adaptation, while taking significant liberties with the original, helped establish cultural exchange between East and West at a time when direct contact remained limited.

Enduring Cultural Significance

The Orphan of Zhao’s journey from ancient Chinese chronicle to Enlightenment stage illustrates the timeless power of its core themes. The story continues to resonate because it addresses fundamental questions about loyalty, sacrifice, and the preservation of cultural values against oppressive forces.

In contemporary China, the story remains a cultural touchstone, regularly adapted and referenced in discussions of tradition and morality. Its international journey through Voltaire’s adaptation and subsequent Western interpretations demonstrates how cultural artifacts can transcend their origins to speak to universal human experiences.

The narrative’s durability across millennia and continents testifies to its profound exploration of the human capacity for sacrifice in service of higher principles. From Sima Qian’s historical records to Versailles’ theatrical stage, The Orphan of Zhao continues to remind audiences that the preservation of justice and lineage sometimes requires extraordinary courage and unimaginable personal cost.