In 1896, Li Hongzhang visited Germany. The German Chancellor, Bismarck, asked him: “China is so vast, so why is it always being bullied?” 1896年，李鴻章訪問德國。德國首相俾斯麥問：”中國這麼大，為什麼總是挨打?”
Li Hongzhang remained silent for a long time, then uttered eight words: “It’s a long story, and the accumulated weakness is hard to reverse.”
This man, who signed over 30 unequal treaties, has been vilified for over a century. Traitor, collaborator, spineless…
But there’s a question: a 73-year-old man with no military power and no real authority—what did he have to sell out his country?
What would he gain from selling out his country? The scorn of the entire nation? Eternal infamy? Having his corpse desecrated? Perhaps the truth is more complex than we think.
In 1894, the First Sino-Japanese War broke out. The Beiyang Fleet was completely destroyed. The army collapsed at the first encounter.
What did Japan want?
The cession of Taiwan, an indemnity of 200 million taels of silver, and the opening of treaty ports. Who did the Qing court send to negotiate?
Li Hongzhang.
Why him? Because everyone else had fled. Weng Tonghe said, “I am unwell.” Zhang Zhidong said, “I am unqualified.” Other ministers: collectively silent.
They competed to show loyalty when it was time to fight, but when it came to negotiations, no one dared to go. So Li Hongzhang went.
He was humiliated by the Japanese. He was assassinated by a Japanese rōnin (shot in the face). He was despised by his own people.
But he signed the Treaty of Shimonoseki. Why? If he didn’t, Japan would march on Beijing. They couldn’t win the war—what else could he do?
The true meaning of “Measure China’s resources to secure the favor of the powers.”
This phrase has condemned Li Hongzhang to a century of criticism. But what is the complete sentence?
“Measure China’s resources, though with great difficulty, to secure the favor of the powers and alleviate the immediate crisis.”
In other words:
Do everything possible (even if it’s extremely difficult) to temporarily satisfy the foreign powers and ease the urgent crisis.
This was not sycophancy—it was a stalling tactic!
The situation at the time:
The Eight-Nation Alliance occupied Beijing.
Empress Dowager Cixi fled to Xi’an.
The national treasury was empty.
The military had collapsed.
There were only two choices:
- Continue fighting and face national annihilation.
- Negotiate for peace, sacrificing parts to save the whole.
Faced with annihilation or dismemberment, he chose dismemberment. Was it the right choice?
From the perspective of 2025, we can easily say, “Better to die with honor.” But in 1900, with hundreds of thousands of lives at stake in Beijing, ideals were plentiful—reality was stark.
Li Hongzhang once said:
“All the tasks I have undertaken in my lifetime—training troops, building a navy—were nothing but paper tigers. How could I ever truly carry them out as I wished? I could only patch things up superficially, creating an illusion of strength.”
He knew the Qing Dynasty was a paper tiger. But he still had to patch it up. Why? Because if he didn’t, it would collapse immediately.
His efforts in the Westernization Movement:
Buying warships—he was criticized for “squandering funds.”
Building factories—he was accused of “worshipping the West.”
Sending students abroad—he was denounced for “betraying ancestral traditions.”
He wanted reform, but the system wouldn’t allow it. Empress Dowager Cixi wanted to rebuild the Summer Palace and diverted navy funds. Could he refuse? The Manchu nobility embezzled—could he stop them? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stand firm—he simply couldn’t.
The Chefoo Convention, the Sino-French Treaty, the Treaty of Shimonoseki, the Boxer Protocol… With each treaty he signed, he was vilified again.
But interestingly, whenever he negotiated, he always managed to reduce the demands.
Treaty of Shimonoseki:
Japan demanded 300 million taels—he negotiated it down to 200 million.
Japan demanded the cession of Liaodong—he managed to retain it.
Boxer Protocol:
The powers demanded 1 billion taels—he negotiated it down to 450 million.
The powers demanded the execution of officials—he saved most of them.
When a knife is at your throat, being able to reduce the damage is already an achievement. But how did history books record it? “Li Hongzhang, who forfeited sovereignty and humiliated the nation.”
Who was truly responsible? Empress Dowager Cixi.
What was she doing during the First Sino-Japanese War? Preparing for her 60th birthday.
What was she doing during the Boxer Rebellion? Declaring war on 11 nations.
And the result? After losing the war, she sent Li Hongzhang to clean up the mess. After he signed the treaties, she let him take the blame for “selling out the country.” The emperor remained on the throne, while others bore the disgrace.
Then there were the so-called “pure critics.” They loved to shout: “Better to shatter like jade than to remain intact as tile!” “Fight to the death!” But when the fighting actually started, they fled faster than anyone. Empty rhetoric harmed the nation, while those who did the real work bore the blame.
In 1901, as Li Hongzhang lay dying, he vomited blood incessantly.
He said: “This blood is my final service to the nation.”
He also said: “I achieved scholarly honors in youth, served in the military in my prime, governed provinces in middle age, and engaged in foreign affairs in my later years. My career was exceptionally fortunate, and I believe I never committed any grave errors. Yet the Sino-Japanese conflict arose without cause, sweeping away all my lifelong achievements. As Ouyang Xiu said, ‘A lifetime of reputation, utterly distorted by later generations.’ Looking around, there is no one left with whom I can discuss matters.”
In other words:
I did my best in this life, but I was born in the wrong era. I carried the burden of this rotten situation alone, with no one to consult.
His final words:
“Henceforth, China must deeply yearn for peace.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fight. He knew they couldn’t win.
Was Li Hongzhang a traitor? If selling out his country could have brought him wealth, he would have been the richest man in the Qing Dynasty.
But when he died, his family assets were meager, and his son had to rely on government support.
If selling out his country could have brought him safety, he wouldn’t have been assassinated by the Japanese. The bullet to his face nearly killed him.
Can a man who risked his life negotiating on the diplomatic stage be called a traitor? What about those who hid behind him, shouting for war and bloodshed? Are they the patriots?
Li Hongzhang’s greatest sorrow:
He understood China’s true strength all too well.
He knew the real intentions of the foreign powers.
He was acutely aware of the brutality of the negotiating table.
But he couldn’t speak the truth. If he did, he would be accused of boosting the enemy’s morale and dampening his own side’s spirits. So he could only grit his teeth and sign those humiliating treaties. And then, bear all the blame.
What did those who criticized Li Hongzhang the most harshly later do?
Kang Youwei: Used funds meant to support the emperor to buy property abroad.
Liang Qichao: Later admitted that Li Hongzhang “persevered in doing what he knew was impossible.”
Weng Tonghe: Most vocal in advocating war during the Sino-Japanese War, but fastest to flee when defeat loomed.
Those who talk without bearing responsibility always speak the loudest. Those who truly carry the nation on their shoulders are often the most silent.
How should we view Li Hongzhang today? Not to whitewash him, but to understand him.
Understand the helplessness of a diplomat from a weak nation.
Understand the difficulties of a reformer.
Understand the grievances of a scapegoat.
In a thoroughly corrupt system, an individual can only do so much. Li Hongzhang did everything he could to the utmost. Even though the result was still failure, at least he truly tried his best.
Liang Qichao later evaluated him:
“I admire Li Hongzhang’s talent, I lament his circumstances, and I pity his fate.”
Exceptional talent, profound insight, but born at the wrong time. This is perhaps the fairest assessment.
History is more complex than we imagine. People are more complex than we imagine.
Li Hongzhang was neither a hero nor a traitor. He was merely a man doing his best with a terrible hand of cards.
And that terrible hand was called the late Qing Dynasty.
1896年，李鴻章訪問德國。德國首相俾斯麥問：”中國這麼大，為什麼總是挨打？”
李鴻章沉默良久，說了八個字：”一言難盡，積弱難返。”
這個簽了30多個不平等條約的男人，被罵了100多年。賣國賊、漢奸、軟骨頭…
但有個問題：一個沒有兵權、沒有實權的73歲老人，拿什麼賣國？
他賣國圖什麼？圖被全國人罵? 圖遺臭萬年？圖死後鞭屍？也許，真相比我們想的更複雜。
1894年，甲午戰爭。北洋水師全軍覆沒。陸軍一觸即潰。
日本要什麼？
割讓台灣，賠款2億兩白銀，開放通商口岸。清廷派誰去談？
李鴻章。
為什麼是他？因為其他人都跑了。翁同龢：”老夫身體不適。”張之洞：”鄙人才疏學淺。”其他大臣：集體失聲。
打仗的時候爭著表忠心，談判的時候沒人敢去。結果李鴻章去了。
被日本人羞辱。被日本浪人刺殺（臉上中彈）。被國人唾罵。
但他簽了《馬關條約》。為什麼簽？不簽，日本打到北京。打不過，還能怎樣？
“量中華之物力，結與國之歡心”的真實含義
這句話，讓李鴻章被罵了一個世紀。但完整的話是什麼？
“量中華之物力，雖極勉強，結與國之歡心，以紓目前之急。”
翻譯一下：
用盡全力（雖然很難），暫時滿足列強，緩解眼前危機。
這不是獻媚，是緩兵之計！
當時的情況：
八國聯軍佔領北京。
慈禧跑到西安。
國庫空虛。
軍隊崩潰。
選擇只有兩個：
1.繼續打，亡國。2.議和，割肉保命。在亡國和割肉之間，他選了割肉。對嗎？
站在2025年，我們當然可以說”寧死不屈”。但1900年的北京城下，幾十萬百姓等著活命。理想很豐滿，現實很骨感。
李鴻章說過一句話：
“我辦了一輩子的事，練兵也，海軍也，都是紙糊的老虎，何嘗能實在放手辦理？不過勉強塗飾，虛有其表。”
他知道大清是紙老虎。但他還是要糊這個紙老虎。為什麼？因為不糊，立刻就垮。
他辦洋務：
買軍艦，被罵”糜費”。建工廠，被罵”崇洋”。派留學生，被罵”數典忘祖”。
他想改革，但體制不允許。慈禧要修頤和園，挪用海軍經費。他敢說不？滿族權貴要貪污，他敢管？他不是不想硬，是硬不起來。
《煙台條約》《中法新約》《馬關條約》《辛丑條約》…，每簽一個，就被罵一次。
但有意思的是，他去談判，總能少賠一點。
馬關條約：
日本要3億，他講到2億。
日本要割遼東，他保住了。
辛丑條約：
列強要10億，他講到4.5億。
列強要處死大臣，他保住了大部分。
在刀架在脖子上的時候，能少割一點肉，已經儘力了。但歷史書怎麼寫？”喪權辱國的李鴻章。”
真正該負責的是誰？慈禧。
甲午戰爭，她在幹什麼？準備60大壽。
八國聯軍，她在幹什麼？向11國宣戰。
結果呢？打輸了，讓李鴻章去收拾。簽了約，罵李鴻章賣國。皇帝繼續當，黑鍋別人背。
還有那些清流。平時最愛喊：”寧為玉碎，不為瓦全！” “誓死不降！”真打起來：跑得比誰都快。嘴炮誤國，實幹背鍋。
1901年，李鴻章臨死前，吐血不止。
他說：”此血可以報國矣。”
又說：”予少年科第，壯年戎馬，中年封疆，晚年洋務，一路扶搖，遭遇不為不幸，自問亦未有何等隕越；乃無端發生中日交涉，至一生事業，掃地無餘，如歐陽公所言’半生名節，被後生輩描畫都盡’，環顧宇內，更無一人足與商量。”
翻譯一下：
我這輩子儘力了，但生不逢時，一個人扛著整個爛攤子，連個商量的人都沒有。
最後一句話：
“此後中國，深盼和平。”
不是不想打。是知道打不過。李鴻章是賣國賊嗎？如果賣國能讓他富貴，他早就是大清首富了。
但他死的時候，家產不多，兒子還要靠朝廷撫卹。
如果賣國能讓他安全，他就不會被日本人刺殺了。臉上的子彈，差點要了他的命。
一個用命在談判桌上週旋的人，叫賣國賊？那些躲在後面喊打喊殺的人，叫什麼？愛國者？
李鴻章最大的悲哀：
他太清楚中國的真實實力。
他太明白列強的真實意圖。
他太瞭解談判桌上的殘酷。
但他不能說。說了，就是長他人志氣，滅自己威風。只能硬著頭皮，去簽那些屈辱的條約。然後，承受所有的罵名。
罵李鴻章最狠的人，後來都幹了什麼？
康有為：拿著保皇的錢，在國外買房產。
梁啟超：後來也承認李鴻章”知其不可為而為之”。
翁同龢：甲午戰爭主戰最凶，戰敗跑得最快。
站著說話不腰疼的人，永遠最大聲。而真正扛著國家走的人，往往最沉默。今天我們該如何看李鴻章？不是洗白，是理解。
理解一個弱國外交官的無奈。
理解一個改革者的艱難。
理解一個背鍋俠的委屈。
在一個爛透的體制裡，一個人能做的很有限。李鴻章做到了他能做的極限。雖然結果依然是失敗。但至少，他真的儘力了。
梁啟超後來評價：
“吾敬李鴻章之才，吾惜李鴻章之識，吾悲李鴻章之遇。”
才能出眾，見識深遠，但生不逢時。這可能是最公允的評價。歷史，比我們想像的複雜。人，也比我們想像的複雜。
李鴻章，不是英雄，也不是賣國賊。只是一個在爛牌局裡儘力打牌的人。
而那個爛牌局，叫晚清。
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