Chang Kuo-chi, against whom he brought criminal charges backed by the false evidence of his creatures. But Hsi Tsung, weak as he was in all other matters, remained strongly attached to his beautiful and virtuous wife, and the Empress found another loyal defender in the Grand Secretary Li Kuop'u, who succeeded in checking some of the Chief Eunuch's bloodthirsty schemes and in frightening the woman his accomplice. Finally, in the spring of 1627, upon a false impeachment, the Emperor was induced to deprive the 'earl of exalted strength' of all his titles and emoluments and order him into retirement. This he did, weary of the importunities of Madame K'o, but still he would hear no word against his

consort.

When she heard of her adopted father's disgrace, the Empress stripped off all her ornaments, and, dressing herself as a mourner, without head covering, sought the Emperor's presence, where, on her knees, she thanked him for his clemency.

Shortly after this episode, in the summer of 1627, the Emperor fell sick of an illness from which he never recovered. As his state became worse, his affection for his loyal and devoted wife increased. At this juncture, Wei Chunghsien had the effrontery to propose to Her Majesty that she should become his confederate in a new scheme of treason and dishonor. He proposed that, upon her husband's death, she should become Chief Regent, accepting as Regent Assessor (practically co-Regent) a creature named Wei Liangch'ing, one of the eunuch's adherents. At the same time, he desired that the Empress should give out that she was enceinte, with the intention of passing off a son of Wei Liang-ch'ing as her own child after the Emperor's death. In this way the blood of the house of Wei would attain to the throne.

Such suggestions the Empress rejected with the scorn they deserved. She knew well that upon Hsi Tsung's passing, it must come to a life-anddeath struggle between the eunuch and herself, but she held her head high and showed no signs of fear. For many years,' she said to him, 'I have made me ready for death. If now I obey you, you will kill me sooner or later; if I refuse, you will kill me only a little sooner. But if I die resisting you to the utmost, I can face unashamed the souls of the departed Emperors in the other world.'

As the Emperor's end approached, Her Majesty begged him to name as his successor his brother, the Prince Hsin. 'But,' said the dying monarch, 'Wei Chung-hsien assures me that two of my concubines are with child. If an heir should be born to one of them, he will become our son and should surely succeed to the throne.' Upon this, the Empress spoke to him most earnestly; the attendants never knew what words passed between them, but the Emperor nodded consent and summoned his brother to receive his dying behests.

Prince Hsin was about to plead his incompetency, but his sister-in-law (attired as a widow) hurriedly came out from behind an alcove, and pleaded with him saying, 'My brother, do your duty, obey His Majesty. The situation is desperate, and I fear a tumult in the palace. Thank His Majesty and do as he desires.'

Prince Hsin then fell upon his knees, and the monarch bade him govern the Empire wisely, avoiding the errors which he himself had committed. But, blind to the last, he added, 'Wei Chunghsien fully deserves your trust, and may be given the highest office with absolute confidence.' Finally, he commended the Empress to his brother's tender care. 'See to her welfare: she

has been a faithful consort to me these seven years. Much do I owe her: often has she admonished me and urged me to better things. Her influence has ever been for good. She deserves all your pity: a widow, and so young. To your care I commend her.'

Prince Hsin left the Presence, and the Empress concealed him in an inner apartment of the palace, for fear lest Wei should assassinate him.

The Emperor passed away at 3 P.M. on the twenty-second of the eighth Moon. Thereupon the Empress issued his valedictory decree and commanded the hereditary Duke Chang Wei-hsien and other officials to escort the new Emperor to the Main Hall of Audience, where he should receive obeisance. The dead Emperor was dressed in his robes of longevity, and his widow, weeping at his bier, so exhausted herself by excess of grief that she fainted away.

The new Emperor conferred upon her the title of 'Empress Senior1 of Feminine Virtue and Tranquillity,' and gave her the Palace of Motherly Peace and of Motherly Blessings for her abode.

VI

The new Emperor had abstained from all participation in palace politics during his brother's occupancy of the throne, but he soon showed himself to be a man of strong character and noble disposition. The Chief Eunuch's position soon became one of great danger, for his crimes had made him many enemies, who now combined and turned against him. Also, Madame K'o had been sincerely attached to her foster son, though she had abused his confidence, and at his death, stricken with remorse, she ceased to be subservient to the eunuch's treasons, stratagems and spoils.

The power of the evil confederacy 1 To be distinguished from Empress Dowager.

which had wrought so many and great evils was now broken. Before the late Emperor's coffin, Madame K'o penitently burned pathetic relics of his childhood which she had treasured his first tooth, some locks of baby hair, a few broken toys, and the scabs which had peeled off him after smallpox. Shortly afterwards, she was arrested, accused of her countless crimes on overwhelming evidence, and sentenced to death by the slicing process, every member of her family and household being also condemned to execution. At her death, the people rejoiced as at a festival. In her quarters at the Palace there were found six imperial concubines, all with child, and it was proved that she had intended to poison the new Emperor and to make one of these infants of unknown paternity heir to the throne. All these wretched women were condemned to death, victims of another's evil ambition.

The tide had turned strongly against Wei Chung-hsien, and realizing that his position was desperate, he fled to Shantung. Outlawed and abandoned by all his followers, he committed suicide near the grave of Confucius, but by order of the throne, his body was subsequently dismembered and the head exhibited at his native city, Ho Chien-fu, and many scores of his adherents, herents, especially those who had conspired against the Empress,—were put to death.

Throughout the troublous reign of the new Emperor Ch'ung-chen (16271644), the Senior Empress lived on terms of happy intimacy and affection with him and with his consort, respected and beloved of the populace. In 1642, upon the marriage of the Heir Apparent, she took up her residence, as custom prescribed, in the Palace of Benevolent Old Age.

Her death was as meritorious as her life had been. In 1644, when Peking

had fallen into the hands of the rebel Li Tzu-ch'eng and the city was being ravaged and burned by his troops, the Emperor sent her a message bidding her commit suicide; but in the tumult and confusion the messenger failed to reach her. When she heard that Li Tzu-ch'eng was battering at the gates of the Forbidden City, she called for a sword, but was unable to deal herself a fatal blow, and her attendants endeavored to dissuade her from seeking death. Failing with the sword, she hanged herself with her girdle, but was cut down by her servants and urged to seek safety in flight. Angrily she stamped her foot, saying, 'You have disgraced me,' and ran to a side room, where again she tried to hang herself, but some of Li Tzu-ch'eng's men arrived just in time to cut her down. As she came to her senses, the rebels gathered around her, praising her beauty. One of them, who seemed to be a leader, exclaimed, 'We are now in the palace of the late Emperor's widow: this beautiful woman must be she. Never have I seen so beautiful a face. Let no one lay hands on her. She must await our Chief's orders.' But some declared that this was not the Goddess Chang - that she had fled in disguise and escaped, whilst others said she was dead.

The rebels were still disputing as to her identity, while she sat silent, when some eunuchs entered with an elderly woman who was Li's personal attendant, and who had been ordered by him to arrange the palace concubines in batches, according to their age and beauty, for his inspection.

The eunuchs pointed out the Empress to her, saying, "That is the Goddess Chang, wife of the late Emperor.' She was placed in the care of attendants who tried to console her. 'Lady Chang, do not be afraid,' they said; 'you are so beautiful that when our VOL. 112-NO. 5

great prince inspects the concubines to-morrow, he will surely choose you for his Empress.'

In her grief and despair, the Empress felt as if her breast were being pierced by a myriad arrows, and she was wondering how she could contrive to kill herself, when a loud voice called out from the courtyard, 'Where is the Empress Dowager, Goddess Chang?' This was one of the chief commanders of the rebels, named Li Yen. Before Peking had fallen, some of the eunuchs had gone over to the rebels, and had informed them of the whereabouts of the most beautiful palace women, whom they divided into three classes.

Li Tzu-ch'eng had promised thirty concubines to each of his generals, and a list of all the women in the Palace had been placed in Li Yen's hands. Li Yen was a licentiate of Honan province who had joined the rebellion, a fluent expounder of moral philosophy. Seeing that the Senior Empress's name was at the head of the list of women, he sighed deeply and said, 'How dare these wretched eunuchs desecrate Her Majesty's name in this way! She stands too high for such disgrace. I, who come from her own province, must save her from this outrage.'

So he hurried into the palace and, on finding her, bade two handmaidens lead her to one of the throne rooms, where he assisted her to mount the dais. Li Yen then dressed himself in court robes and made obeisance before her nine times. Placing her in the charge of attendants, he hurried away to find Li Tzu-ch'eng.

That same evening, she succeeded in killing herself. When they found her body she was attired in black silk, with gold embroidery and full sleeves: her face was veiled with yellow crape and her hair neatly dressed. She looked like a woman of thirty. Those who saw the serenity of her face felt as if some

heavenly visitant hovered near them, so happy was she in her death.

Li Yen buried her in the courtyard of her palace, and did homage at her obsequies. Meanwhile, Li Tzu-ch'eng had given orders that the late Emperor and his Consort should be buried, but made no public announcement concerning the death of the Senior Empress. It was freely rumored that she had been taken alive by one of the rebels. On the same day, the concubine Jen surrendered to Li Tzu-ch'eng and, to increase her own importance, told him that she was the Senior Empress, wife of Hsi Tsung. Li Tzu-ch'eng believed her, and later, on his retreat before the Manchus, took her with him. Thus it came to pass that, in the court of the fugitive Mings at Nanking, calumnious tongues insulted this noble woman's memory, and it was spread abroad that she had become the mistress of the rebel chief. There were still eunuchs and women at that court who had been of the faction of Wei Chunghsien, and who were only too eager to besmirch her spotless reputation. The new Ming Emperor, Prince Fu, was in the hands of evil advisers, and believed these cruel falsehoods, so that no canonization was conferred upon her until the following year, when her death was

undeniably confirmed. A eunuch eyewitness of her death described it to the Manchu Regent, Prince Jui, who gave orders that she should be buried beside her husband, at his mausoleum to the north of Peking. So came she to her honorable rest.

After the dispersion of Li Tzŭch'eng's forces by the Manchus, the concubine Jen, who had accumulated great store of treasure from the palace, moved to Wu T'ai Mountain, west of Peking, and her abode became the resort of many lawless characters. She still claimed to be the Empress Consort of Hsi Tsung and, in that capacity, extorted money from the common people. Eventually, complaints were lodged at court, and she was arrested and brought to Peking. On her arrival there, she still claimed to be Empress, and some there were who believed her. But the eunuchs of the court had no difficulty in proving her to be a base pretender. The romantic chroniclers aver that she was compelled to try on one of the Goddess Chang's tiny shoes, before which test she failed ignominiously. Be this as it may, she was allowed to commit suicide, since when the memory of the illustrious and virtuous Empress has shone undimmed throughout the centuries.

I

SOME five and thirty years ago a Spanish gentleman, Señor Sautuola, owning an estate near Santander in the north of Spain, set out to explore a cave on his property, in the hope of finding remains of prehistoric man. The cave had been discovered accidentally some years before by a hunter, the narrow entrance being masked by brushwood. Señor Sautuola made repeated visits to the cave and discovered the blackened traces of a cooking-place, heaps of shells, broken bones and flint instruments. But it was only when he took his little daughter with him that the discovery was made which has given fame to the cave of Altamira. The child, with that superior vivacity of observation which grown-up people so often lose, noticed something on the ceiling of the cave. 'Look up!' she cried, and the party, following her direction, perceived a painting, a painting of a bison strongly colored in red and black. As they examined further, more paintings were discovered, - pictures of antelopes, horses, wild boars, and above all of bisons, but in every case of animals.

This was the first discovery in Europe of paintings by prehistoric men. One would have thought that it would have made a sensation in the world. But no! With that brilliant skepticism for which the nineteenth century had so much talent, these wonderful paintings were pronounced by learned archæologists to be recent forgeries. For quite a number of years the caves of Alta

mira were forgotten. Then discoveries of a similar character were made in the Dordogne district of France. Altamira was remembered. Señor Sautuola, who would have added picturesqueness to the story if he had died in the mean time of a broken heart, Señor Sautuola was vindicated; and the paintings discovered in the first instance by a little girl were made the subject of a magnificent publication.

Apart from the interest of this little story as a chapter in the long record of the blunders of incredulity, there is something that fascinates imagination in contemplating these paintings by ancestors of our race so infinitely remote in time from even the earliest art of the most ancient of civilizations. Michelangelo has told us of the agonies of discomfort he endured, as he lay on his back on a scaffold and painted the sublime figures on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. But to similar discomforts were added, for these unknown precursors of the world's artists, the discomfort of working in darkness. The sheltering recesses of their dwelling gave them security, but it condemned them to live in midnight gloom, lighted only by oil lamps.

The pictures are of extraordinary vitality, full of character and vigor. I do not know which to wonder at more - the astonishing boldness and truth of the drawing, or the driving power of the instinct which impelled the race of men at this remote stage,

'In the dark backward and abysm of Time,' to find an outlet for their spirits in art,