A Father and Son’s Shared Struggle

On a spring morning in 1832, in the quiet village of Hetang in Xiangxiang County, Hunan Province, a father and son stepped out from the gate of their modest farmhouse. The son, twenty-two-year-old Zeng Zicheng—better known to history by his later name, Zeng Guofan—accompanied his forty-three-year-old father, Zeng Linshu. Their purpose that day, as on many others, was to sit for the imperial civil service examinations, specifically the first level: the xiucai, or licentiate.

This was far from their first attempt. In fact, the pair had become local celebrities in the examination halls of Xiangxiang, though not for reasons they would have wished. Zeng Linshu had sat for the exams sixteen times since his teens, failing each time. Despite his gray hair and advancing age, he remained what was derisively termed a “tongsheng”—an older candidate still seeking the lowest degree. Local wags even circulated a couplet mocking such perpetual examinees: “Eighty years old and still called a child, one may indeed live long; the Five Classics still not mastered in old age, truly a scholar.”

Most educated men, after repeated failures, would retire from the field to save face. Not Zeng Linshu. Examination after examination, he would be among the first to enter the hall and the last to leave, only to see his name absent from the list of successful candidates. Onlookers would gather not just to read the results, but to watch the elder Zeng’s reaction.

In recent years, attention had shifted to include his son. Zeng Guofan had begun sitting for the exams at just fourteen, and by 1832 had already failed five times. The spectacle of father and son failing together became a source of gossip and pity throughout the county. As Zeng Guofan later wrote in his father’s epitaph, “My father, repeatedly frustrated by the educational commissioner’s tests, thereafter brought me along to take the exams. Father and son walked carrying their brushes, seeking favor from the officials, yet for long had no success.”

A Family Dream Forged in Humiliation

The Zeng family’s examination ambitions began not with the son or even the father, but with the grandfather, Zeng Yuping. The Zeng genealogy, tracing back to the Song dynasty, revealed no officials or even literate ancestors—only farmers. As Zeng Guofan himself noted, “Our Zeng family, from Hengyang to Xiangxiang, over five or six hundred years, had no one listed among the ranks of examination candidates or licentiates.” For centuries, they had been peasants, working the land generation after generation.

Zeng Yuping broke this pattern through a moment of humiliating clarity. In his youth, he had been anything but studious. He owned a fine horse, dressed well, and spent his days in the city of Xiangtan carousing with other idlers. One day, while drinking and singing in a tavern, he overheard an old man outside pointing him out to his grandson as a cautionary tale: “Don’t emulate that man. He’s from the Zeng family of Baiyangping in Hetang. Though his family has little means, he plays the rich gentleman in town. He’ll ruin that household someday!”

Stung by this accidental critique, Zeng Yuping sold his horse on the spot and walked the dozens of miles back home. From that day forward, he transformed completely. He began rising before dawn, working the fields with new purpose, and expanding the family’s terraced plots to make them more productive. Through mixed farming—growing crops, raising pigs, and fishing—he built the family’s wealth from middle peasant status to that of comfortable small landowners. He became a respected local figure, known for settling disputes with his sharp tongue and uncompromising sense of justice.

Most importantly, Zeng Yuping developed an unshakable determination that his descendants would rise through education. Having experienced the limitations of agricultural life and the disrespect shown to those without scholarly achievement, he invested the family’s new wealth in preparing his son and grandson for the examination system that governed social mobility in Qing China.

The Examination System and Its Discontents

To understand the Zengs’ struggle, one must appreciate the imperial examination system’s central role in late imperial Chinese society. Established in the Sui dynasty and refined over centuries, the system theoretically allowed any man to attain office through demonstrated merit in a series of increasingly difficult examinations.

The xiucai examination, which the Zengs repeatedly attempted, tested mastery of the Confucian classics, literary composition, and policy analysis. Successful candidates gained exemption from corvée labor and corporal punishment, and could wear distinctive gowns. More importantly, they could proceed to the provincial-level juren examinations, and then to the national jinshi tests in Beijing.

The system was notoriously competitive. In some regions, only one to two percent of candidates passed the xiucai level. Many spent decades attempting, creating a class of perpetual students who strained family resources while chasing an elusive dream. The psychological pressure was immense, as failure brought not just personal disappointment but public humiliation.

Yet the rewards justified the struggle for families like the Zengs. Official status brought tax exemptions, legal privileges, and social prestige that could lift an entire lineage from obscurity. For Zeng Yuping, who had built economic security but lacked social standing, his descendants’ examination success became the family’s paramount objective.

The Turning Point: 1833 and Beyond

The year following the 1832 examination attempt brought dramatic change. Zeng Guofan, after six failures, finally passed the xiucai examination in 1833. The following year, he entered the Yuelu Academy in Changsha—one of Hunan’s premier educational institutions—where he studied under renowned scholars who sharpened his classical knowledge and examination techniques.

His progress then accelerated remarkably. In 1838, just five years after obtaining his xiucai degree, Zeng passed the jinshi examination in Beijing, placing himself among the elite scholarly class of the empire. His official career began with appointment to the Hanlin Academy, the prestigious institution that served as a training ground for high officials.

Zeng Linshu, meanwhile, finally achieved his xiucai degree in 1839, after seventeen attempts spanning nearly three decades. His perseverance, often mocked by contemporaries, became a family legend—a testament to the determination that would characterize his son’s approach to challenges throughout his life.

The Making of a Statesman

Zeng Guofan’s early struggles profoundly shaped his character and approach to governance. His repeated failures taught him perseverance and humility, while his later success granted him insight into both the strengths and limitations of the examination system that had nearly broken his family.

During his time in Beijing as a junior official, Zeng witnessed first-hand the Qing government’s corruption and incompetence in dealing with domestic unrest and foreign pressure. When the Taiping Rebellion erupted in 1850, threatening the dynasty’s survival, Zeng was tasked with raising a militia in his native Hunan.

His Xiang Army, organized with local gentry support, eventually proved crucial in suppressing the rebellion. Zeng’s approach reflected lessons from his examination years: methodical preparation, moral discipline, and relentless persistence. He famously advocated “striking ten times at one spot” rather than scattering efforts—a philosophy that echoed his family’s focused pursuit of examination success against overwhelming odds.

Cultural Legacy and Modern Relevance

Zeng Guofan’s transformation from repeated examination failure to one of nineteenth-century China’s most influential figures represents more than personal triumph. His career spanned the critical transition between traditional Confucian governance and the beginnings of China’s modernization.

While remaining fundamentally conservative in his philosophical outlook, Zeng recognized the need for practical reforms. He established China’s first modern arsenals and shipyards, sending students abroad to acquire technical knowledge while maintaining that moral cultivation remained the foundation of good governance.

His extensive writings on family instruction, self-cultivation, and governance influenced generations of Chinese officials and intellectuals. The Zeng family itself became remarkable for producing scholars, diplomats, and scientists across subsequent generations—a dramatic transformation from their exclusively agricultural roots just two generations earlier.

The story of Zeng’s early struggles continues to resonate in modern education systems worldwide, where high-stakes testing and social mobility remain deeply intertwined. His journey from repeated failure to extraordinary success serves as a potent reminder that early academic performance does not necessarily predict ultimate achievement, and that perseverance in the face of discouragement can yield remarkable results.

Conclusion: The Enduring Lesson of Perseverance

The morning walk of father and son to yet another examination in 1832 represents more than a personal family story. It encapsulates the aspirations of countless families throughout Chinese history who saw education as the pathway to betterment. The Zeng family’s journey from agricultural obscurity to national prominence through sheer determination remains one of the most compelling narratives in modern Chinese history.

Zeng Guofan’s legacy is complex—praised by some as a savior of the dynasty and criticized by others as a conservative obstacle to more radical reform. Yet his personal story of transformation through education continues to inspire. In an era of increasing social mobility concerns worldwide, the lesson that dedication and persistence can overcome initial disadvantages remains powerfully relevant.

The unremarkable farmhouse in Hetang from which the Zengs emerged that spring morning stands as testament to how extraordinary achievement can emerge from the most ordinary circumstances, given sufficient determination across generations. Their story reminds us that historical significance often begins not with privilege or innate genius, but with the courage to persist when success seems most unlikely.