A Palace in Decline: The Final Years of the Qing Dynasty

The year was 1911, the third year of the Xuantong Emperor’s reign, and the Qing Dynasty stood on the brink of collapse. The once-mighty empire, now a shadow of its former glory, was entering its final days. Against this backdrop of imperial twilight, Li Lianying—the notorious and powerful eunuch who had served Empress Dowager Cixi for over five decades—succumbed to a sudden and violent illness.

Li’s death was as swift as it was mysterious. Stricken with dysentery during an unseasonably cold spring, he passed away within days, his family tight-lipped about the exact circumstances. His funeral, held at Huangzhuang Caihefang, was a subdued affair, a stark contrast to the opulence he had once commanded. The Qing court, now a hollow shell of its former self, could no longer afford grand ceremonies—nor did Li’s surviving relatives dare attract attention in politically volatile times.

The Rituals of Death: “Great Mourning” and Social Strategy

In a calculated display of posthumous benevolence, Li’s family observed the Beijing tradition of dà pò xiào (大破孝), or “Great Mourning.” This custom allowed strangers and neighbors alike to pay respects in exchange for tokens of mourning: a hemp mourning cap, a sash, a short mourning robe, steamed buns, and a bowl of pork with vermicelli.

This practice, while charitable, was also deeply strategic. By distributing these items, Li’s family sought to secure goodwill among the local poor—ensuring that their burial grounds would remain undisturbed in the future. Yet, the ceremony was rushed. Within days of his death, Li was interred at Enjizhuang, the resting place of eunuchs, his burial as expedient as the fading dynasty he had served.

Enjizhuang: The Silent City of Eunuchs

Enjizhuang, also known as the Temple of Divine Favor, was more than a cemetery—it was a microcosm of the eunuch world. Established by the Yongzheng Emperor in the 18th century, this sprawling necropolis housed over 2,600 graves, each marking the life of a palace servant.

The cemetery was divided into three distinct sections:

1. The Commoners’ Field – South of the temple lay row upon row of modest graves, where lesser eunuchs were buried in unmarked plots. The poorest among them were granted only a simple willow coffin and a shallow pit.
2. The Elite Resting Place – North of the temple stood the grander tombs, reserved for high-ranking eunuchs. Here, Li Lianying’s burial site dominated the landscape, marked by a stone archway inscribed with the words “Qin Ci Li Da Zongguan Zhi Mu” (钦赐李大总管之墓, “Tomb of the Great Steward Li, by Imperial Grace”).
3. The Memorial Hall – Adjacent to the grave stood a replica of a palace study, a quiet shrine to Li’s refined tastes. Dust-covered and long abandoned, it was a ghostly echo of his former influence.

The Man Behind the Myth: Reassessing Li Lianying’s Life

Born in 1848, Li Lianying entered the Forbidden City at the age of nine, rising through the ranks to become the most powerful eunuch of the late Qing era. His career spanned five tumultuous decades, from the Opium Wars to the Boxer Rebellion.

Contrary to sensational rumors—that he was a scheming libertine or a key conspirator in palace coups—historical records paint a more nuanced picture. The idea that a 12-year-old Li played a pivotal role in the Xinyou Coup (1861) is particularly dubious. As scholar Wang Zhao once lamented, popular histories often distort reality with “absurd tales” of court intrigue.

Li’s true legacy lies not in scandal, but in his unparalleled longevity as a palace insider. He navigated the treacherous waters of imperial politics, surviving multiple regime changes before retiring—a rare feat for a eunuch.

A Fading World: The End of the Eunuch System

Li’s death marked the symbolic end of an era. Within a year of his passing, the Qing Dynasty collapsed, and with it, the centuries-old institution of palace eunuchs. Enjizhuang, once a meticulously maintained necropolis, fell into neglect. By the Republican era, it was a desolate place, its graves slowly reclaimed by nature.

The old eunuch cemetery, like the empire it served, became a relic of a vanished world—a silent testament to the men who lived and died in the shadow of the throne.

Epilogue: The Historian’s Reflection

History often remembers Li Lianying as either a villain or a victim of circumstance. Yet his life defies simple categorization. He was a product of a system that no longer exists, a man who wielded immense power yet remained, in the end, a servant.

As the unnamed palace woman in the original account mused, even the mightiest figures are reduced to “a solitary grave, lonely and desolate.” In death, Li Lianying became just another name in the vast necropolis of history—his once-formidable presence now a whisper in the wind.