a conclave of churchly dignities, but the Spiritual Successors of the Buddha, each appointed by his predecessor, an event momentous enough in itself.  Still, Kumarajiva came (it would appear) but to prepare the way for the great change that was impending; left behind him a successor in India, or one to fill the office at his death; in India the headquarters of Buddhism remained.  Two years before his arrival, Fa Hian, a Chinese Buddhist monk, had set out on foot from Central China, walked across the Gobi Desert, and down through Afghanistan into India, a pilgrim to the sacred places:  a sane and saintly man, from whom we learn most of what we know about the Gupta regime.  He returned by sea in 412, landing at Kiao-chao in Santung,—­a place latterly so sadly famous,—­bringing with him spiritual and quickening influences.  In the south, meanwhile, another Indian teacher, Buddhabhadra, had been at work.  Before very long, a Renaissance was in full flow.

The political events that led up to it were these:  between 304 and 319 a Tatar family by the name of Liu, from Manchuria, succeeded in driving the House of Tsin out of northern China:  these Tsins were that effete, ladylike, chess-playing, fan-waving, high-etiquettish dynasty I have spoken of before.  In 319 they took up their abode in Nanking, and there ruled corruptly for a hundred years, leaving the north to the barbarians.  In 420, a soldier in their employ, Liu-yu by name, deposed the last Tsin emperor, and set himself on the throne as the first sovereign of the Liu-song Dynasty.  He was a capable man, and introduced some vigor and betterment into affairs; he found conditions ripe for a renaissance of civilization; and in his reign we may say that the renaissance took shape. 420 is, so far as a date can be given for what was really a long process, a convenient date to give.  We have seen Persia rise in the two-twenties; India in the three-twenties; we shall not go far wrong in giving the four-twenties to China.  That decade, too, marks a fresh step downward in the career of Rome:  Honorius died in 423.  Fenollosa is definite upon 420 for the inception of the great age of the Southern Renaissance of art.  That age culminated in the first half of the next century, and ended with the passing of the Liang dynasty in the five-fifties:  a matter of thirteen decades again; which, I take it, is further reason for considering our four-twenties epochal.

I fancy we shall grow used to finding the twenties in each century momentous, and marked by great political and spiritual re-shapings of the world.  We shall find this in our historical studies; in the next few years we may find it in current events too; and what we shall see may remind us that in these decades the sun generally rises in some new part of the world,—­the sun of culture and power.  Naturally enough:—­in the last quarter of each century you have the influx of spiritual forces; which influx, it is to be supposed,