The Gathering Storm: Origins of the Boxer Movement
In the waning years of the 19th century, the Qing Dynasty faced mounting internal and external pressures. As recorded in the diaries of Li Hongzhang, then Viceroy of Liangguang, the rise of the Boxers (Yihetuan) and the Big Sword Society (Dadaohui) in northern China became a focal point of tension. By early 1900, Li foresaw disaster. He repeatedly petitioned the imperial court to suppress these groups, warning that their anti-foreign fervor would provoke catastrophic conflict.
The Boxers, a peasant-led movement, blended martial arts with mystical beliefs, claiming invulnerability to bullets and blaming foreign influence for China’s woes. Their slogan, “Support the Qing, destroy the foreigners,” resonated with rural communities suffering from famine, economic disruption, and missionary encroachment. Yet Li recognized the futility of their cause. His diary entries reveal frustration with the court’s inaction, particularly the sway of Prince Duan, a hardliner who covertly supported the Boxers.
The Tipping Point: Diplomacy and Disaster
By spring 1900, the crisis escalated. An imperial edict in April ambiguously tolerated Boxer activities, urging local officials to distinguish between “righteous militia” and troublemakers. Li dismissed this as reckless, writing, “This is utter nonsense. The nation will suffer for these mobs.” His fears materialized in June when Boxers killed German envoy Baron Clemens von Ketteler in Beijing—a fatal provocation.
Li’s correspondence with Ronglu, the Empress Dowager Cixi’s trusted advisor, reveals a desperate bid to steer policy toward moderation. Yet Prince Duan’s faction prevailed, culminating in a disastrous decision: the Qing court allied with the Boxers to besiege foreign legations. Li, stationed in Guangzhou, performed ceremonial rites like the Plowing Ceremony, masking his dread. “The north is aflame,” he wrote. “I wash my hands of this folly.”
The Aftermath: Occupation and Negotiation
When the Eight-Nation Alliance (including Britain, France, Japan, and the U.S.) crushed the Boxers and occupied Beijing in August 1900, Li was summoned to negotiate. His diary captures the surreal tension: “The imperial family flees; wolves divide our house.” Yet amid the scramble for concessions, Li spotted a lifeline—American opposition to partitioning China.
U.S. Secretary of State John Hay’s “Open Door Notes” advocated preserving Qing sovereignty, a stance Li leveraged. At meetings in Beijing’s Russian Legation, he secured a unified indemnity demand instead of territorial dismemberment. “Thanks to our ancestors,” he noted, “the nation remains whole, though beggared.” His October 1900 interview with American journalist William Mannix (this memoir’s compiler) underscored gratitude to the U.S., whose restraint contrasted with European and Japanese ambitions.
Cultural Fractures and the Clash of Worlds
The Boxer Rebellion laid bare China’s ideological rifts. The court’s vacillation between xenophobia and pragmatism mirrored broader struggles over modernization. Li, a pragmatist schooled in the Self-Strengthening Movement, embodied the paradox: he championed railroads and diplomacy while clinging to Confucian rituals like the Plowing Ceremony.
For foreigners, the siege of legations became a symbol of “Oriental barbarism,” fueling racist tropes. Yet Li’s diaries humanize the Qing’s dilemma—a crumbling empire torn between pride and survival. His scorn for Prince Duan’s “ignorance” reflects elite divides, while his relief at American intervention hints at nascent soft-power diplomacy.
Legacy: A Precarious Sovereignty
The Boxer Protocol (1901) imposed crushing reparations but spared partition, a pyrrhic victory Li barely lived to see (he died in November 1901). His memoirs, however, endure as a testament to realpolitik. The rebellion accelerated the Qing’s fall, yet Li’s maneuvers ensured China’s nominal independence—a foundation for later nationalists.
Modern scholars debate whether the Boxers were nativist rebels or anti-colonial pioneers. Li’s writings offer no romanticism, only grim calculus: in an age of imperialism, survival required swallowing pride. His engagement with the U.S. also foreshadowed 20th-century alliances, proving even in collapse, diplomacy could salvage hope.
Conclusion: The Historian’s Lens
Li Hongzhang’s diaries transcend personal chronicles—they are a mirror to empire’s end. His warnings about the Boxers, his fury at court factionalism, and his deft crisis management reveal a man straddling eras. The Rebellion, often reduced to a “xenophobic uprising,” emerges here as a complex tragedy of miscalculation and resilience.
For contemporary readers, Li’s story resonates beyond history books. It speaks to the perils of ideological rigidity, the art of negotiation under duress, and the fragile line between sovereignty and subjugation. In an era of renewed great-power rivalry, his lessons—written in ink and anguish—remain unsettlingly relevant.