The Twilight of the Qing Dynasty: Setting the Stage for Reform
The late 19th century marked one of the most turbulent periods in Chinese history. As Western powers and Japan increasingly encroached upon China’s sovereignty following the Opium Wars, the Qing dynasty found itself at a critical crossroads. The defeat in the First Sino-Japanese War (1894-1895) had been particularly humiliating, exposing China’s military and technological backwardness. Against this backdrop, a growing reform movement emerged among scholar-officials who believed China needed radical institutional changes to survive in the modern world.
Li Hongzhang, one of China’s most prominent statesmen and diplomats, occupied a complex position in these debates. Having spent decades navigating China’s foreign relations and modernization efforts, his perspective on reform was shaped by both practical experience and deep loyalty to the imperial system. His private writings from 1898, particularly following the death of Prince Gong in May, reveal a conservative statesman’s growing alarm at the pace and direction of proposed changes.
The Death of Prince Gong and a Turning Point
The passing of Prince Gong (Yixin) on May 3, 1898, represented more than just the loss of a senior statesman—it removed a crucial stabilizing force in Qing politics. In his diary, Li Hongzhang lamented this loss with unusual emotional intensity, describing Prince Gong as “a rare loyal minister” whose death created a dangerous power vacuum. Prince Gong had been instrumental in China’s early modernization efforts following the Second Opium War and served as an important counterbalance between conservative and reformist factions.
Li’s grief-stricken entry reveals his fears about the political landscape: “Now he has returned to his ancestors, and the Great Qing is seeking balance amidst various conflicts. The various forces within the court are stirring like demons from hell.” This vivid metaphor captures Li’s perception of the court descending into chaos without Prince Gong’s steadying influence. His concern wasn’t merely personal—he recognized Prince Gong as the last figure capable of restraining both radical reformers and reactionary conservatives.
The Rise of Kang Youwei and Radical Reform
As summer approached in 1898, Li Hongzhang’s diary entries grow increasingly preoccupied with Kang Youwei and the reform faction gaining influence over the young Guangxu Emperor. While acknowledging Kang’s literary talents and patriotism, Li viewed him as dangerously naive: “He seems unaware that even with the best motives, comprehensive reforms attempted rashly without considering reality can never succeed.”
Li’s critique of Kang’s approach reveals his own philosophy of gradual, pragmatic reform: “For twenty-five years, I have been the true defender of reform at court… I don’t agree that to get one gable wall, one must tear down the entire house.” This architectural metaphor underscores Li’s belief in incremental change rather than revolutionary transformation—a position forged through decades of managing China’s foreign affairs and modernization projects.
The Court Divided: Conservatives vs Reformers
By June 1898, Li’s writings depict a court polarized between two extremes. He found himself alienated from both factions: “I oppose the wishes and policies of both the so-called conservatives and reformers.” His June 17 entry records his decision to travel to Beijing to advise Empress Dowager Cixi directly, reflecting his attempt to steer a middle course.
The famous “Hundred Days’ Reform” officially began on June 11 when Guangxu issued the “Imperial Decree on National Affairs.” Li’s subsequent entries reveal his growing alarm at the rapid pace of change, particularly measures that seemed to challenge traditional Confucian values or threaten social stability. His July 9 diary entry, written at Prince Gong’s former residence, conveys exhaustion and frustration: “In my youth, ambition and forty years of unremitting effort have brought me a turbulent old age that still cannot stop.”
The September Coup and Its Aftermath
Li’s terse September 24 entry—”She has once again become the nominal ruler, though in reality she has always been the supreme ruler”—marks the culmination of the political crisis. The Empress Dowager’s coup on September 20 ended the reform movement, placing Guangxu under house arrest and executing several reform leaders.
Subsequent entries reveal Li’s concerns about the conservative backlash. His undated October note describes growing anti-Christian sentiment and predicts unrest: “If the rebels around the Empress Dowager allow this to continue without restraint… I’m afraid the country’s peace can only be maintained for a few months.” This demonstrates Li’s understanding that reactionary policies could be as destabilizing as radical reforms.
Cultural Clash and the Reform Dilemma
Li’s writings provide fascinating insight into the cultural dimensions of China’s reform debates. His critique of Kang Youwei reflects broader tensions between Confucian tradition and modernization: “You are an outstanding educator… but you are making the young Emperor lose face.” This concern about preserving imperial dignity while pursuing necessary reforms encapsulates the central dilemma of late Qing statesmen.
His description of reformist officials as performers “jumping from one end of the stage to the other just to be seen” reveals his disdain for political posturing. Yet his praise for Kang’s literary abilities shows intellectual respect even amid political disagreement—a nuance often missing in official accounts of this period.
Legacy and Historical Reflection
The ultimate failure of the Hundred Days’ Reform had profound consequences for China. As Li predicted, the conservative resurgence contributed to the Boxer Rebellion and further foreign intervention. His diary entries from this period reveal a conservative reformer’s perspective—committed to strengthening China but fearful that radical changes would undermine social stability and invite chaos.
Historically, Li’s position has been overshadowed by more dramatic figures like Kang Youwei or the Empress Dowager. Yet his writings reveal a pragmatic statesman attempting to navigate between revolutionary and reactionary extremes. His emphasis on gradual, managed reform—rooted in decades of diplomatic experience—offers an alternative perspective on China’s modernization challenges.
The tragic fate of the Guangxu Emperor and his consort Zhenfei, whom Li sympathetically mentions in later entries, underscores the human cost of these political struggles. Li’s unsuccessful attempt to mitigate their punishment reveals the limits of even senior statesmen’s influence during this turbulent period.
Conclusion: A Conservative Voice in Revolutionary Times
Li Hongzhang’s 1898 diary provides invaluable firsthand insight into one of modern China’s defining moments. His writings reveal not just political events but the emotional and intellectual struggles of a conservative reformer witnessing his country’s painful transition. While history ultimately judged the Hundred Days’ Reform as a missed opportunity for China, Li’s perspective reminds us that the debates were far more complex than simple progress versus reaction.
His warnings about the dangers of both radicalism and xenophobia proved tragically prescient in the Boxer Rebellion that followed. Ultimately, Li’s diary stands as a testament to the challenges of reform in times of crisis—a theme that continues to resonate in Chinese politics and beyond.