The Crumbling Legacy of the Huai Army

By the 1890s, the once-formidable Huai Army—founded by Li Hongzhang four decades earlier during the Taiping Rebellion—faced a crisis of leadership. The original generation of commanders like Zhang Shusheng and the Zhou Shengbo brothers had passed away, leaving Li to rely on their grandsons’ generation. These younger officers lacked the personal loyalty and shared experience of their predecessors, making them harder to control.

Li Hongzhang recognized the growing fractures within his ranks. The Huai Army’s golden age, when commanders followed orders without question, had faded. Now, rivalries and mistrust festered. The only figure capable of mediating these tensions was Zhou Fu, a civilian administrator with no battlefield experience. Li appointed him as “Chief of the Frontline Camp Affairs,” hoping his diplomatic skills could prevent open conflict. But without a true military leader, the situation remained precarious.

The Desperate Choice: Ye Zhichao’s Controversial Appointment

With no ideal candidates available, Li turned to Ye Zhichao, the highest-ranking general in Zhili. Ye was a skilled orator, and Li believed his eloquence might unify the fractious officers. However, Ye’s recent defeat at the Battle of Seonghwan cast a long shadow.

Li dismissed the loss as unavoidable—Ye’s 3,000 troops had faced 20,000 Japanese soldiers. He even accepted Ye’s exaggerated claims of inflicting 2,000 enemy casualties. Foreign reports of Japanese buglers mimicking Qing signals (a tactic that caused chaos) further convinced Li of Ye’s competence. On August 25, 1894, Ye was named Supreme Commander of Qing forces in Korea.

The decision sparked outrage. Li’s son-in-law, Zhang Peilun, wrote scathingly in his diary: “To appoint Ye Zhichao as commander is ludicrous. Rewarding retreat as merit—what logic is this?” Soldiers who survived Seonghwan openly mocked Ye’s incompetence, and rival generals like Wei Ruguai—who commanded more troops—seethed at being overlooked.

Strategic Paralysis and the Illusion of Foreign Intervention

While Japan pursued a strategy of rapid, decisive strikes, the Qing court clung to a passive approach. Officials believed prolonging the war would invite European mediation, particularly from Britain, which feared Russian expansion if Qing authority collapsed. This assumption bred fatal complacency.

Japan, aware of the clock ticking, mobilized aggressively. The Third Division reinforced the Fifth in Korea, forming the First Army under the formidable Yamagata Aritomo. Unlike Ye, Yamagata commanded absolute respect—even Prime Minister Itō Hirobumi tread carefully around him. Emperor Meiji’s admonition to avoid “military unilateralism” hinted at tensions between Japan’s political and military leadership, but Yamagata’s authority dwarfed Ye’s fractured command.

The Naval Disadvantage: A Fleet in Decline

On August 29, Li Hongzhang submitted a bleak assessment to the emperor. China’s once-proud Beiyang Fleet was outmatched. The ironclads Dingyuan and Zhenyuan were slow and unwieldy; newer ships like Zhiyuan and Jingyuan had lost speed from age. Meanwhile, Japan had added nine modern vessels since 1888, including ships capable of 23 knots.

Li blamed budget cuts—a veiled reference to Empress Dowager Cixi’s diversion of naval funds for the Summer Palace—but his tone was resigned. When Japanese transports boldly landed at Incheon unopposed, it confirmed the fleet’s impotence.

The Road to Disaster: Chaos in Pyongyang

By early September, Japanese forces encircled Pyongyang. Qing troops, ordered to hold the city, focused on fortifications. But internal dysfunction proved deadlier than enemy action. On September 2, a nighttime patrol disaster unfolded:

Two Qing units—the Sheng Army and Yi Army—mistook each other for Japanese in the dark. A bloody hour-long firefight ensued before voices revealed the tragic error. Dozens died to “friendly fire.” Afterward, nighttime patrols were suspended, further blinding the garrison.

Korean officials, betting on a Qing victory, secretly fed intelligence to Pyongyang. Yet their efforts couldn’t offset the rot within. As Japanese forces tightened the noose, Qing commanders—distrustful of Ye and preoccupied with personal rivalries—waited passively for salvation that would never come.

Legacy: A Failure of Leadership and Vision

The Qing’s defeat at Pyongyang (September 15, 1894) and the subsequent Battle of the Yalu River shattered illusions of parity with Japan. Li Hongzhang’s reliance on outdated personal networks, coupled with institutional decay, proved catastrophic. The war exposed not just military weakness but a deeper crisis: a regime unable to adapt to modern warfare’s demands.

For Japan, the victory affirmed its rise as Asia’s preeminent power. For China, it was the first in a series of humiliations that would culminate in the 1911 Revolution. The fractured command at Pyongyang became a metaphor for the Qing Dynasty itself—divided, indecisive, and marching toward oblivion.