Opinions about Zeng Guofan vary widely, with one saying quite renowned: “A role model for the ordinary, a consolation for the middle-aged.” Zeng Guofan was originally a man of ordinary birth and average ability, filled with flaws in his youth, faced with numerous difficulties when starting his business, and even confronted with life-or-death situations when facing setbacks. However, in the book “The Positive and Negative Sides of Zeng Guofan,” the author Zhang Hongjie skillfully summarized the profound significance of Zeng Guofan for future generations: through unremitting efforts and self-change, an ordinary person can also transcend the ordinary and exude the extraordinary.
The transformation in Zeng Guofan was obvious. Originally impetuous, he became calm and composed; originally obstinate, his mind became broad; originally slow-witted, he could perceive the essence of matters and stand firm. It is such stories that tell us that no matter at what stage of life we are, there is always the possibility of progress.
Who isn’t simultaneously making mistakes and improving?
The young Zeng Guofan often vented about his own shortcomings in his diary: lustful, lacking in persistence, and insufficient cultural literacy. He wandered aimlessly, indulged in opera and chess, and spoke bluntly in conversations; he was quick-tempered and assertive, with frequently changing learning goals. Had platforms like “Zhihu” existed in his earlier years, the middle-aged Zeng Guofan might have initiated discussions asking whether there was still a chance to change for the better in middle age.
The answer is affirmative. After moving to the capital, through his experiences in the Hanlin Academy where he met genuine scholars whose disciplined cultivation and resolved will were like an energy field built around Zeng Guofan. At 31, he decided to undertake a comprehensive reform of himself. Behind the practice of self-discipline was the motivation of meeting others’ expectations.
In order to overcome his shortcomings, he set daily learning tasks that had to be completed: read at least 10 pages of history books and write a journal in neat regular script; initiate an apology after an argument and act swiftly. Reflect and scrutinize one’s words and actions in the nightly journal. As Teacher Zhang Hongjie said, although Zeng Guofan’s life seemed rigid and hard, his methods of self-cultivation are still worth learning: first addressing the biggest problem, then gradually consolidating; those around should be good teachers and friends, actively utilizing their influence; one should not be impatient for quick results, not discouraged by short-term setbacks; and finally, regularly reflect and promptly adjust one’s behavior.
Recently, the author joined a self-discipline group. In the first month, significant progress was made through reviews, check-ins, and recording focused time. In the second month, these activities gradually became less active, the Pomodoro timer was not often set, and the phone became an item hard to put down. By the third month, the author decided to use a strong method like Zeng Guofan: if unable to meet the goal, then a large sum of money would have to be paid to the partner. To avoid loss, the partner’s supervision became strict, the review journal was filled to the brim, and a series of actions were effective, forming new habits.
No one is born with self-discipline, nor is anyone born outstanding. We can all start from an imperfect point, advancing ourselves with courage and effort.
Continuous self-discipline will eventually lead to “what your heart desires, you shall achieve.”
Zeng Guofan, on his initial venture into the officialdom, was notably stubborn, incessantly submitting memorials that criticized the current issues and called for reforms, to the extent that the emperor, vexed by his persistence, nearly decided to behead him. While managing local militia, Zeng often exercised the right to submit “exclusive memorials,” which led to the emperor dismissing and investigating his non-cooperative colleagues. These actions angered his peers, who believed that only Zeng Guofan considered himself to be incorrupt and morally superior. As soon as there was a lull in the Taiping Rebellion, he was forced to return to his hometown.
After a significant setback, Zeng Guofan revisited the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, reflecting on “the utmost softness gallops over the utmost hardness,” and he adjusted his approach in handling affairs and relationships. When he returned to a position of importance, he became more tactful, often saying “I welcome your guidance,” indicating his openness to others’ advice on his work. Zeng Guofan didn’t abandon his principles but learned to be demanding of himself and tolerant of others.
In the Xiang Army, a general named Bao Chao, sent sixteen boxes of gifts to celebrate Zeng Guofan’s birthday. Zeng chose a small embroidered cap and graciously declined the remaining gifts. This dignified way of refusing gifts became a norm for Zeng Guofan thereafter.
Zeng Guofan said, “Everyone loves reputation, but if one seeks a good name at the expense of others’ comfort, who would want to work with me?” A friend, once poor, had often been assisted by his aunt, yet as an adult, he deliberately avoided her out of embarrassment. The aunt, though well-meaning, failed to win gratitude because she didn’t understand how to spare others discomfort.
Zeng Guofan’s approach was different; he considered “not putting others in an awkward position” a vital principle. Had the aunt emulated this, her situation would surely have been much better. Being introspective and resolute internally while being harmonious and kind outwardly, without causing embarrassment to others, is the way of being “internally saintly and externally king.”
And you, have you ever oscillated between dullness and sharpness until you found your own wise path?
