This period was virtually an interregnum, an age of literary stagnation. Though covering no fewer than four centuries, it produced but one really great writer, in consequence, probably, of the disturbed and unsatisfactory state of public affairs, so unfavourable to the development of literary talent. It was during these years that Buddhism took the firm grip upon the religious susceptibilities of the Chinese people which it holds at the present day.
With the final establishment of the above dynasty authorship rapidly revived. It was the epoch of glittering poetry (untranslatable, alas!), of satire, of invective, of irony, and of opposition to the strange and fascinating creed of Buddha. Imagination began to come more freely into play, and the language to flow more easily and more musically, as though responsive to the demands of art.
This was admittedly the Elizabethan age of Chinese literature. More great writers in all branches flourished under this than under any other dynasty before or since. Their styles are massive and grand, without grammatical flaw, exquisitely cadenced, and thrilling the reader with an inexpressible thrill. They exhibit to perfection what the Rev. Arthur Smith, a most accurate writer on Chinese topics, calls "an indescribable loftiness of style, which resembles expression in music."
The poetry of the age is second only to that of the T'angs. The historians rank with, but after, their famous predecessor of the Han dynasty. But Chu Hsi swept away the existing interpretations of Confucianism, and established his own for ever.
Under the Yüan (Mongol) and Ming dynasties, literary execution remained stationary as regards accuracy of structure and balance of sentences. Imaginative power became visibly weaker, to decline later on to a still lower level of rule-and-line mediocrity. These two dynasties have been bracketed together; partly because it is impossible to say exactly when the Mongol dynasty either began or ended, and partly because the dates so far assigned have been
