were anything else than slyly planned object-lessons
calculated to impress and subjugate the women, why is it that the
_husband_ is never chosen to act the self-sacrificing part? He does,
indeed, sometimes indulge in frantic outbursts of grief and maudlin
sentimentality, but that is because he has lost the young woman who
pleased his senses. There is no sign of soul-love here; the husband
never dreams of devoting his life to her, of sacrificing it for her
sake, as she is constantly exhorted to do for his sake. In a word,
masculine selfishness is the keynote of Hindoo life. "When in danger,
never hesitate to sacrifice your goods and your wife to save your
life," we read in the _Hitopadesa_ (25); and No. 4112 of Boehtlingk's
_Hindu Maxims_ declares bluntly that a wife exists for the purpose of
bearing sons, and a son for the purpose of offering sacrifices after
his father's death. There we have masculine selfishness in a nutshell.
Another maxim declares that a wife can atone for her lack or loss of
beauty by faithful subjection to her husband. And in return for all
the devotion expected of her she is utterly despised--considered
unworthy of an education, unfit even to profess virginity--in a word,
looked on "as scarcely forming a part of the human species." In the
most important event in her life--marriage--her choice is never
consulted. The matter is, as we have seen, left to the family barber,
or to the parents, to whom questions of caste and wealth are of
infinitely more importance than personal preferences. When those
matters are arranged the man satisfies himself concerning the
inclinations of the chosen girl's _kindred_, and when assured that he
will not "suffer the affront of a refusal" from _them_ he proceeds
with the offer and the bargaining. "To marry or to buy a girl are
synonymous terms in this country," says Dubois (I., 198); and he
proceeds, to give an account of the bargaining and the disgraceful
quarrels this leads to.

BAYADERES AND PRINCESSES AS HEROINES

Under such circumstances the Hindoo playwrights must have found
themselves in a curious dilemma. They were sufficiently versed in the
poetic art to build up a plot; but what chance for an amorous plot was
there in a country where there was no courtship, where women were
sold, ignored, maltreated, and despised? Perforce the poets had to
neglect realism, give up all idea of mirroring respectable domestic
life, and take refuge in the realms of traditi