In the year A.D. 618 the House of T’ang entered upon its glorious course of three centuries in duration.  Under a strong but dissolute ruler immediately preceding, China had once more become a united empire, undivided against itself; and although wars and rebellions were not wanting to disturb the even tenor of its way, the general picture presented to us under the new dynasty of the T’angs is one of national peace, prosperity, and progress.  The name of this House has endured, like that of Han, to the present day in the popular language of the people; for just as the northerners still delight to style themselves “good sons of Han,” so are the southerners still proud to speak of themselves as “men of T’ang.”

One of the chief political events of this period was the usurpation of power by the Empress Wu—­at first, as nominal regent on behalf of a step-child, the son and heir of her late husband by his first wife, and afterwards, when she had set aside the step-child, on her own account.  There had been one previous instance of a woman wielding the Imperial sceptre, namely, the Empress Lu of the Han dynasty, to whom the Chinese have accorded the title of legitimate ruler, which has not been allowed to the Empress Wu.  The latter, however, was possessed of much actual ability, mixed with a kind of midsummer madness; and so long as her great intellectual faculties remained unimpaired, she ruled, like her successor of some twelve centuries afterwards, with a rod of iron.  In her old age she was deposed and dismissed to private life, the rightful heir being replaced upon his father’s throne.

Among the more extravagant acts of her reign are some which are still familiar to the people of to-day.  Always, even while her husband was alive, she was present, behind a curtain, at councils and audiences; after his death she was accustomed to take her place openly among the ministers of state, wearing a false beard.  In 694 she gave herself the title of Divine Empress, and in 696 she even went so far as to style herself God Almighty.  In her later years she became hopelessly arrogant and overbearing.  No one was allowed to say that the Empress was fair as a lily or lovely as a rose, but that the lily was fair or the rose lovely as Her Majesty.  She tried to spread the belief that she was really the Supreme Being by forcing flowers artificially and then in the presence of her courtiers ordering them to bloom.  On one occasion she commanded some peonies to bloom; and because they did not instantly obey, she caused every peony in the capital to be pulled up and burnt, and prohibited the cultivation of peonies ever afterwards.  She further decided to place her sex once and for all on an equality with man.  For that purpose women were admitted to the public examinations, official posts being conferred upon those who were successful; and among other things they were excused from kneeling while giving evidence in courts of justice.  This innovation, however, did not fulfil its promise; and with the disappearance of its vigorous foundress, the system also disappeared.  It was not actually the first time in Chinese history that the experiment had been tried.  An emperor of the third century A.D. had already opened public life to women, and it is said that many of them rose to high office; but here too the system was of short duration, and the old order was soon restored.