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Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture v2.c12: XI. Woman as Wife

Sexual Life in Ancient India: A Study in the Comparative History of Indian Culture v2.c12

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XI. Woman as Wife

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IF the man in the Old Indian Epic in his life of love, in spite of many beautiful exceptions, and in spite of the noble, often-stressed view that the man must be as chaste as the woman, nay, that his duty is even to surpass her, the weaker vessel, in this virtue also—if in spite of this he actually felt himself evidently very free, yet for the woman on the other hand there was a far stricter moral law : it was only as a wife that she had any real right to the joys of love ; it is only for the wife that life has worth, and it is only the wife that has any worth for life, that has a right to life and its gifts. For the maid also is, above all, a wife, even if it is firstly the future wife ; she is but a pledge entrusted by the Maker, which the father must carefully keep for the husband to be (i, 157.35). On woman as wife, therefore, falls the fullest and most wonderful glory of the noblest Indian poetry, especially of the Epic. Figures such as Damayantī and Sāvitrī will “have undying life”, for they also “were made by the heart”, not by the mere selfishness of the man, setting a pattern before the woman only for his own advantage and good, as Finck, for instance, believes. The Epic is filled with the praise and the examples of womanhood faithful in wedlock ; and from the two mighty poems there could be gathered a collection of such pictures, great and small, of Old Indian women, and one by no means lacking in variety.

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And thus Çakuntalā speaks (i, 74.40 ff.) : “She is a wife who is skilful in the house ; she is a wife who has children ; she is a wife whose life is her husband ; she is a wife who keeps a holy troth with her husband. The wife is the half of a man ; the wife is the best friend of all ; the wife is the root of the three ends of life¹ ; the wife is the root of what will save

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¹ Cp. e.g. xiv, 90.47, 48. And so times beyond count in Indian literature.

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there.¹ He that has a wife accomplishes deeds ²; he that has a wife is a householder ; he that has a wife has joy ; he that has a wife is accompanied by happiness. They are the friends that in loneliness speak of love, fathers at the calls of duty, mothers for him that suffers, rest even in the wilds of the forest for the way-wearied wanderer. He that has a wife finds trust ³; therefore the wife is the surest refuge. Even when the husband crosses over into another birth, when he dies, hurries along rough paths alone, the faithful mate follows ever after him. If the wife has died first and gone away, then she awaits her husband, and the good woman follows the husband that has died first (pacçāt sādhvy anugacchati). For this reason it is that a man wishes to marry, that the master may have a wife in this world and the other. The self begotten by the self is by the wise called ‘ son ’.⁴ Therefore let the man look on his wife, the mother of his son, as his own mother. As does the doer of good deeds when he comes into heaven, so does the begetter feel comfort within him when he beholds the son, begotten by him in his wife’s womb, as it were his own countenance in the glass. If the man is burning in sorrows of the soul, and is sick with bodily ills, then does he find comfort by his wife, as he that is tortured with heat does in water. Even the man in the clutches of hot rage will do nothing harsh to women, if he considers that on them depend the pleasures of love, joy, and what is good. As the field on which the self grows up, women are an ever-holy thing ⁵; for what power have even the Ṛishis to produce children without a woman ! ”—Over and over again the wife is called the friend, the friend determined by fate, the best among friends, and so on. So in iii, 313.72, cp. çl. 63–64 ;

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¹ Above all in the other world. Less likely : of him that wishes to sail across (across all kinds of harm, especially that threatening in the other world).

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² Or : the religious celebrations.

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³ That is, he is worthy of trust (viçvāsya) ; but here rather : he can find consolation and courage (through his wife, of course).

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⁴ Often in the MBh. as elsewhere. Hartland, *Prim. Paternity*, i, 195 ff. ; 208, and others, take this literally !

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⁵ Or : Women are the holy (pure) everlasting field of the birth of the self.

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iv, 2.17. No friend is like her; she is the best herb of healing for him that suffers (iii, 61.29, 30). In this meaning likewise, not only in the erotic or culinary, she belongs to the care of the body (çarīrayātrākṛiti, xiii, 145.13). An abundance of earthly goods, lasting health, and a beloved sweet-spoken wife, and an obedient son, and knowledge that fulfils its end¹—these are the six blessings of the world of mankind (v, 33.82).² In the good wife the three goals of life, which otherwise are endlessly at feud, are at one together (iii, 313.102); on the wife, indeed, this trinity depends, as, too, dutiful service, the propagation of the family, the good (dharma) of the forefathers and of the self (of the man, xiv, 90.47, 48), which is felt in the world beyond. The good wife is not only joy and peace, but house and home, too. Thus the anxious bird-husband whose wife does not come home in the evening calls out (xii, 144.3 ff.): “There was a heavy rain with strong wind, and my loved one does not come. Why is it that she does not yet come back? I wonder if it is well with my darling in the forest. Without the wife the house of one dwelling in it is utterly empty, even if it swarms all over with sons, grandsons, daughters-in-law,³ and servants. It is not the house that is called house, it is the mistress that is the house; but a house without the mistress is the same as the lonely forest. If this darling of mine with the round eye-margins, the lovely body, and the sweet voice does not now come, then I have nothing left in life. She, the steadfast in virtue, who eats not before I have eaten, bathes not before I have bathed, stands not unless I stand, lies to rest only when I lie, she is not glad if I am not glad, she frets if I am fretting; if I am away on a journey, then her face is mournful, and if I am angered, then she speaks sweet words. True to her husband, devoted to her husband as to her one refuge, finding her delight in that which is dear and wholesome for the husband—he who has a wife such as this, that man is blessed

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¹ Or: that is of some use (arthakari).

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² Like other truly wise men, this one, therefore, could not reckon well.

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³ Vadhū “daughter-in-law” is often found in the MBh. (e.g. i, 106.1, 22 (cf. 13); 177.11 ff.; 212.16; ii, 72.27; iii, 280.60; 296.28; 298.9; v, 37.5; xii, 228.96; xiv, 90.67, 80).

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on earth. For the dutiful one knows when I am wearied and racked by hunger—filled with heartfelt affection, ever attached to me by love, and tender is my glorious one. He for whom a beloved wife lives, he has a home there, even if it be only on the root of a tree; even a palace without her is a wilderness, that I am convinced of. Whether it be the time for fulfilling a pious duty, or for acquiring worldly goods, or for love, man’s comrade is his wife; and if he must go abroad, then she bestows solace and trust on him. For the wife is called here on earth the highest gift of happiness,¹ the mate of the mateless on life’s way.² Even so for the man laid low by sickness and ever suffering, for the afflicted one, there is no healing like his wife. There is no kinsman like the wife, no comrade in the world like the wife, where it is sought to win pious merit. He that in his house has no good and sweet-speaking wife, let him but go into the lonely forest; his house is as the lonely forest” (xii, 144.3 ff.).³ In harmony with ideals such as these, even tender daughters of kings, like Draupadī and Damayantī, used to the most delicate luxury, go into wretchedness along with their husbands who have come to grief through their own fault; and the queen herself faithfully follows her lord, who has been changed into a man-eating monster, on his wanderings through forest and wilderness (i, 182.6 ff.).

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¹ Or: the highest end (the highest thing, artha).

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² Or: the pilgrimage through the world (lokayātrā); cp. tīrthayātrā, and Rām., ii, 109.27, where the word has probably the same meaning; also MBh., v, 192.33; xiii, 13.1; as also e.g. Manu, iv, 242.

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³ As against these passages (to which many could be added from Indian literature) there are many bitter attacks also to be found: such is the verse in an ascetic didactic discourse which calls wife and child leeches (xii, 301.70). Then in one of the many strophes of the MBh. preaching unlimited individualism, we find: “The wife is all-devouring wear and tear (jarā), the son but a seed, the brother a foe, the friend only something to give gifts to (klinnapāṇi, elsewhere also ārdrapāṇi in the Epic), only the self is the enjoyer of pleasure and pain (xii, 139.30). The evils that come towards the end of the world are also to be seen from the fact that men take their wives as friends (iii, 190.19, 20). They cannot find or value anything better, and women’s respect is gone.

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Terribly hard and noble beyond words is the task of the good woman already as a daughter, and still more so as a wife, as is explained in iii, 205 ff. “Then did King Yudhishṭhira put to the famous and mighty Mārkaṇḍeya a question on virtue, right hard to decide (dharmapraçnam sudurvi dam). ‘I would fain hear set forth by thee in its true nature the nobility and dignity of women, this thing above all others, fair, and holy and good (dharmya). Clearly before us we see here, O priestly Rishi, the gods, the sun, the moon, the wind, the earth, and fire, O best one, and father and mother, O holy one, and the teacher, O best one, and whatever else there is, that which has been created, that, too, O son of Bhṛigu. All persons of standing especially must be given honour, and then those women who know only one man; the obedience of faithful wives seems to me a hard thing. Do thou, my lord, set forth to us the high dignity of faithful wives that keep a check on the host of the senses, and a restraint on the heart, and ever bethink themselves of their husband, as of a god. O lord, thou glorious one, this seems to me a heavy task. Women, O twice-born one, are obedient to mother and father and husband. Compared with the so awe-inspiring duty and virtue (dharmāt sughorāt) of women, there is, indeed, so far as I can see, none other whatever that is burdensome. For it is with virtuous ways, and ever attentive, that women have their work to do; truly they have a heavy task towards father and mother¹; and the women, too, who know only a husband, and who speak the truth, and who carry the fruit in their body for ten months, and so live beside death—what could there be that is more wonderful? And women come into the utmost danger and pain beyond compare, and so

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¹ In a literal translation çl. 9 is perhaps to be thus combined with what is before: (heavy, compared, that is to say, with that) which good women do who lead a good life, and are ever attentive. Or less likely, taken together with 9b: what . . . do, they have a heavy task therewith towards father and mother. Kṛi with the accus. of the person = do, do towards, treat, handle, is often found in the Epic. So vi, 79.6; vi, 64.16 f.; vii, 21.1; viii, 68.23; xii, 175.5; Rām., iv, 5.30; cp. MBh., vii, 12.3; Rām., iv, 18.47: tatrāpi khalu mām dosham kartum nārḥasi, Rāghava “therein also thou must see no blame for me”.

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bear their children in great torment, O my lord, and rear them with true and tender love, O bull among the twice-born. And they, living amidst all the cruel conditions,¹ looked on with loathing, fulfil their duty always—this I deem to be a hard thing. Show unto me, O twice-born one, the true essence of their way of life, based on that of warriors and with warriors’ duties; hard to attain to, O Brahman, is the virtue of the very glorious ones because of (all) the malice (cruelty).² As to this I would fain hear, holy and august one, as to this question, thou most excellent of those wise in questions, foremost of the race of Bhrigu. I am hearkening unto thee, thou pious man.’ Mārkaṇḍeya spoke: ‘ ’Tis well, I will enlighten thee according to the truth on this question, which is very hard to explain. Hearken unto it from me, while I speak of it. Some grant the greater respect to the mothers, others to the fathers.³ The mother, who brings up the children, carries through a heavy task. Through asceticism, sacrifices to the gods, worship, patience, magic, and other means the fathers seek to get sons. When thus they have won the son, so hard to obtain, then they are ever thinking, O hero, what kind of man he will become. For the father and mother hope from their sons for fame, glory, and power, offspring, and religious merit, O child of the Bharatas. He that lets their hope bear fruit is one with a knowledge of duty, and he from whom the father and mother have ever joy, O ruler above kings, has here in this life and after death fame and everlasting virtuous merit; no sacrificial deeds, no gifts to forefathers, no fasting is like this.¹ But through

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¹ Or: “ men ” (krūreshu sarveshu) ?

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² Note that the whole extract deals with the māhātmya, the glory of woman, and that the text speaks much of all the cruelty (or baseness, nṛiçamsa) that works against women on earth. My rendering, therefore, fits in excellently with the context and with the truth and reality. The child-bearing woman and the warrior are especially linked together in the popular mind in other parts of the world also. Here samācāra can be taken either as sam or as sama + ācāra; the genit. mahātmanām probably refers back to the first half of the çloka. From the point of view of the language the most obvious, indeed, would be: “ Show unto me the true essence of the way of duty of the Kshattriyas; the virtue of the high-souled is for the lowly man hard to win.” But then we should here have to reject the whole çloka. Kshettra could also be read instead of kshattra, and “ fruitful field ” be put = wife. But for all that this idea is very usual, yet there are some difficulties here about the matter (xii, 205.14).

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³ More literally: Some from the standpoint of the venerable have been on the mothers’ side, others on the fathers’ side.

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¹ So, if naivam were read for naiva. But after all it is better to keep to naiva, and to join cl. 22b with 22a : ("For the woman) there is (is of avail) neither any sacrifice, nor gift to the dead, nor fasting, but through obedience towards her husband she wins heaven." This reading is the more likely in that this saying with fixed variations is often found. So, for instance, Viṣṇusmṛti, xxv, 15 : Nāsti strīṇāṃ pṛthagyajño, na vrataṃ nāpy uposhitam ; Paṭim cuçrūshate yat tu tena svarge mahīyate. Mārkaṇḍeyapurāṇa, xvi, 61 : Nāsti strīṇāṃ pṛthagyajño, na çrāddhaṃ nāpy uposhitam ; Bhaṭṛiçuçrūshayaivaitān lokān ishtān vrajanti hi. Cp. e.g. MBh., i, 158.24 ; xiii, 8.20 ; 40.11 f. ; 59.29.

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On pṛthagyajño there is a strong stress, and even in the house the woman according to her standing in law has no importance at all in herself. The woman throughout her life is dependent, and therefore also she is not entitled to hold property, as is often laid down. In childhood she is under the rule and protection of her father, in the flower of her age under her husband's, and if the husband is dead, under her sons'. She can never enjoy freedom to dispose of herself. See e.g. Manu, v, 147 f. ; Vas., v, 1-2 ; Yājñav., i, 85 ; Nārada, xiii, 28-31 ; Viṣṇu, xxv, 12-13 ; Mahānirvāṇat., viii, 106 ; Baudh., ii, 2, 3.44. In the last two passages the well-known pronouncement is found in immediate connexion : "Through obedience to her husband she wins heaven." And for the gods also she is only a—woman. Only together with her husband can she do pious works, only together with her husband can she come into paradise. And there, too, the stone wall stares before her with the flaming inscription : Asvatantrī dharme strī "The woman has no independence in virtue, religion, or law" (Gautama, xviii, 1). It is only over the gates of hell that for the Indian woman who may thirst for freedom there stands the direct opposite of those famous words of Dante. Bitterly, but with truth Ramabai Sarasvati calls out : "The only place where she can be independent of him is in hell" (*The High Caste Hindu Woman*, p. 41). So the woman must not go on a pilgrimage either; her place of pilgrimage is her husband, and good works are done at home. Mahānirvāṇatantra, viii, 100 f. Cp. here the splendid words of the

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obedience towards her husband—through this she wins heaven. As to that which relates to this chapter, O King Yudhishthira, with heed hear then of the firm-set virtue of faithful wives. There was one most excellent among the twice-born, given up to Veda study, rich in penance, of virtuous character, Kauçika his name, O child of the Bharatas. The best among the twice-born studied the Vedas, together with the knowledge helpful to them and the Upanishads. (Once) he was by the root of a tree, repeating the Veda aloud. Up in the tree a hen-crane had perched, and let its droppings fall on the Brahman. When the angry twice-born one saw her, he cursed her in his thoughts. With the eye of the hotly angered Brahman on her, and cursed in his heart, the hen-crane fell down onto the ground. When the twice-born one saw her lying there, lifeless, and bereft of consciousness, he bewailed her, seized with a burning pain through pity: “I have done evil, overcome by anger and passion.” So spoke the wise one many times, and then went into the village to beg, calling on the pure families in the village, O bull among the Bharatas. When now he came into a house, where he had already visited before, and made request “Give”, the woman said to him: “Wait.” While the lady of the house was now seeing to the cleaning of the crockery, her husband suddenly came in with the pangs of hunger on him, O best of the Bhāratas. And when the good wife saw her lord, she left the Brahman standing there unheeded, and handed her husband water for washing the feet and rinsing the mouth, and a seat, and reverently did the black-eyed one then wait on her husband, with very delicious food, hard and soft; what her husband left over she was wont to eat, she with the pure soul, O Yudhishthira. And she looked on her lord as a god, fitting herself to her husband’s thoughts; in deeds, thoughts, and words she took her course from her husband alone, not giving a thought to any other, devoted to him with all her being and life, finding

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wonderful Berthold von Regensburg, which I have given in the note on Daçakumārac., p. 50. In the same way as Berthold, and as Luther in his epistle to the nobles, Mahānirvāṇat. (viii, 97 ff.) and Baudhāyana, ii, 3.16, as also Manu, xi, 10 condemn pilgrimages to holy places, and pious works in general, if thereby a man in any way stints his family.

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her pleasure in obedience to him, leading a good life, pure, active, and skilful, thinking always of her family’s welfare. And whatever was wholesome for her husband, that she lived for always, ever taken up with the humble service of the gods, guests, and servants, as, too, of her mother-in-law and father-in-law, and ever with a bridle on her senses. While now the bright-eyed one was giving obedient service to her husband, she saw the Brahman standing and asking for alms, and bethought herself of him.¹ The good woman was then taken with shame, O best among the Bhāratas, took alms for the Brahman, and went out, the glorious one. The Brahman spoke : ‘ What does this mean? “ Wait ” thou didst tell me, O fair lady, and then keep me to my loss and not send me away.’ Mārkaṇḍeya spoke : ‘ When the good woman saw the Brahman, aflame with anger, flare up, as it were in a mighty fire, soothingly she said these words to him : “ I beg thee, forgive me, O wise one! My husband is my great godhead. And he arrived hungry and weary, and therefore was waited on by me.” The Brahman spoke : “ Thou didst not hold the Brahmans as being more worshipful, thou didst hold thy husband as more worshipful; although thou livest in householder’s rank, thou dost despise the Brahmans. Even Indra bows himself before them. How much the more so a human being on earth! Thou haughty one, dost thou not know and hast thou not heard from the old that the Brahmans are like fire, and could burn up even the earth!” The woman spoke : “ I am no hen-crane, O Brahmanic Ṛishi. Put away thine anger, O thou rich in asceticism. What wouldst do, angry one, to me with this angry look? I do not despise the Brahmans, those wise ones, like unto the gods. Do thou forgive me this slight, thou blameless one. I know the greatness of the Brahmans, for by the anger of the Munis of just such glowing asceticism

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¹ Perhaps I should have kept, however, to my first version : “ And what was wholesome for her husband, for the gods, the guests, the servants, and for her mother-in-law and father-in-law, this she lived for always. While she that strove only and always for obedience, and had always her senses bridled, she the bright-eyed one, was carrying on the service of her husband, she saw the Brahman,” and so on.

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and purified soul,¹ of the Munis, whose fiery anger is still to-day unquenched in the Daṇḍaka forest ²—by their anger was the sea made undrinkable and salt-watered. Because the very evil-minded Vātāpi harmed the Brahmans, the cruel and huge Asura, when he came to the Ṛishi Agastya, was eaten up and destroyed. We are told of many mighty doings of the Brahmans, the high and glorious ones. Full of power is the anger of the high-souled ones, and their favour, O Brahman. But this offence, O Brahman, thou without fault, do thou forgive unto me. The virtue arising out of obedience to the husband is pleasing to me, O twice-born one. Among even all the divinities my husband is the highest for me. In all circumstances I would fain fulfil my duty to him. See, O Brahman, what the fruit is of faithful service to the husband: Thou didst burn up the hen-crane out of anger; that I know. Anger is a foe to man that dwells in his (own) body, O best of Brahmans. He that puts anger and blindness behind him is known by the gods as a Brahman. He on this earth that always speaks the truth, and makes those worthy of respect content, and, if he is harmed, does no harm, him the gods know as a Brahman. He that has overcome the senses, is given up to virtue, finds his delight in holy study, is pure, and has love and anger under his sway, him the gods know as a Brahman. He to whom the world is as his own self, he that knows the good, and is wise, and finds his joy in all the virtues, him the gods know as a Brahman.””” She then explains still further to him what virtue is, and how little he understands about it, and sends him to Mithilā to the pious butcher that the Brahman may learn it from him (iii, 205, 206).³ Cp. especially MBh., K, xiii, 249.16 ff., a kind of Martha and Mary tale.

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¹ Or: For in this same way the sea became undrinkable, salt-watered through the anger of the Munis of shining asceticism, etc. Cp. with this passage Manu, ix, 314, and Bühler’s note, SBE, xxv, p. 398; as also MBh., xii, 342.61 f.; xiii, 34.27; 151.17; 153.7, 11.

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² The Epic, too, tells this tale, which was remodelled as a motive by the Buddhists and the Jains. See Rām., vii, 80 f.

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³ This tale, as also that of Dharmavyādha, is also in the 56th Tar. of the Kathāsarits., and separately in the Parrot Book (Rosen, Tutinameh, ii, 232; ZDMG, xxi, 543). Cp. Çukas., Introd.

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So, too, the Brahman Uttanka cannot even see the faithful wife of King Paushya, and thinks he is being tricked by the ruler, as being he that brought him to her; because of this virtue she is invisible to anyone that is not wholly pure, and the holy man in the haste of his journey in the morning has forgotten to carry out the ritual purification (i, 3.101 ff.). “The chastity and goodness of a woman brings all knowledge, it has power over life and death, heaven and hell. Utterances such as the touchingly simple one in Rām., vi, 111.67: ‘It is not in vain that the tears of faithful wives fall to earth’ are tame indeed compared with what, as is well known, we so often find.” ¹ For a faithful wife is a sin-cancelling means of grace (tīrtha), just as much as asceticism, etc. MBh.K, xiv, 118.8 ff.

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¹ Daṇḍin’s Daçakumārac., p. 40. Cp. e.g. in Tawney’s Kathākoça, the tale of Davadanti, p. 195 ff., espec. 207; Prabandhacint., p. 64; Bhojaprabandha, ed. Vidyasagara, p. 90; Mārk.-Pur., xvi, 27 ff. (faithful wife stops the sun from rising); etc.

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Very frequent in Indian literature, and often found in the Epic also, is the “act of truth”, especially in the case of pure wives. In later Hindu tales this is, indeed, often undertaken without good reason.² But the Epic knows nothing of cynical jests such as these. Thus, for instance, Sītā also protests her obedience and her faithfulness to Rāma, and so forces the fire on Hanumant’s tail, in spite of all its glow, to be quite cold (Rām., v, 53.25 ff.).

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But above all it is of course in the beyond that the faithful wife is rewarded. She goes into the world of her husband (xiv, 20.4); there are, indeed, various worlds, the highest heavens of the pious, that are seen only by Brahma, holy Rishis, Brahmans with a pure spirit, and faithful wives, and which are for ever shut even to the eyes of the king of the gods (xiii, 73.² ff.). Nay, more: Far away beyond the heaven of those that are absorbed in holy meditation (brahmasattrim) lies the world of faithful wives; beyond that again lies only the formless, the domain of ultimate being. ix, 50.41-48.

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² Cp. the case referred to by me in Daçakum., p. 40, where the 80,000 wives of the king along with all the women of the city cannot bring a dead elephant back to life again (Kathās., Tar. 36), and with that Rājatar., i, 318. Schiefner, Bulletin de l’Acad. Imp. des Sciences de St.-Pétersbourg, vol. 21, col. 479; J. J. Meyer, Isoldes Gotteseurteil (Berlin, 1914), p. 277 f. (note 176).

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It is truly not made very easy for the woman of Old India to win for herself the name of a true and seemly wife. That has already been seen from much that has been stated. Here we give a few special passages. “This only is what the good call the oldest law: what the husband says to the wife, whether right or wrong, that she must do exactly; thus do the knowers of the holy knowledge know” (i, 122.27, 28). “This is the highest and everlasting task of the woman in the world, that she do all that is best for her husband, even at the cost of her life” (i, 158.4). “Truth, and the joy of love, and heaven won by excellence, and whatever is wished for is for women dependent on the husband. Menstruation (which is needful for conception) comes from the mother, the seed from the father, the highest god is the husband; through the husband the goal of life for women, made up of the pleasures of love and children, is thus reached” (xiv, 90.50 ff.). “But the husband, be he virtuous or not, is for those women that heed the moral good the visible godhead” (Rām., ii, 62.8). See also MBh., xii, 145.3 ff. Anasūyā says in Rām., ii, 117.22 ff.: “Thy kinsfolk, O Sītā, thou rich in honour, and honour and prosperity thou hast left behind, and followest Rāma banished in the forest. Good fortune be thine! Those women whose husband is dearly loved, whether he live in city or forest, be he good or bad, theirs are the worlds of high happiness. For women of noble character the husband is the highest godhead, although he have a bad character, or live after his lusts, or be bereft of worldly goods.”¹ Thus, too, her lord is more for the wife than her own child. Arjuna’s wife, Citrāṅgadā, whom her hero-husband has made, indeed, with child, but soon left,² believes her lord and her son are dead, and is ready to let the son be lost, but not her husband, and wishes to see him called back to life; “ for this friendship has been made everlasting and imperishable by the creator ” (xiv, 80.15). And in the Rāmāyaṇa (ii, 39.29-30) it is said : “ Without a string there is no lute, without a wheel no chariot, without a husband no woman is happy, even though she have a hundred sons. For what the father gives has bounds, what the brother gives has bounds, what the son gives has bounds; but him that gives the unbounded, the husband, what wife should not honour him ! ” 1

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¹ In the following sarga Sītā expresses her whole-hearted agreement, and lays stress on the doctrine often found that the woman’s tapas is wholly and alone obedience to her husband.

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² I had first written: “twice made with child.” But in spite of Jacobi also in his Mahābhārata so taking it, it is wrong. Arjuna leaves C., when she has become with child by him (215.27), and goes forth adventuring. Then he comes back for a short and last visit, and he finds there (217.23 ff.) the son who has meanwhile been born,

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¹ So, too, MBh., xii, 148.6, 7. Cp. e.g. iii, 234.3. A woman in Bhoja’s capital was holding her sleeping husband on her lap, and her small child crawled into the fire. So as not to awake her lord, she sat still, but besought Agni for the sake of her faithfulness to her husband not to burn the child. It was done as she begged. When the man woke up, she quickly took out the child, who was sitting smiling in the flames (Bhojaprab., ed. Vidyasagara, p. 90). The woman left by her husband has fallen from the world of holiness and of salvation (puṇyasthāna), and cannot come into heaven (iii, 230.3, 5).

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Like many another god, so this god of the wife was particularly great at asking. Above all the holy men in this also showed their very famous—holiness. Jaratkāru, who sees his forbears hanging in the cave, resolves therefore to get married to save them, and at length in spite of his strange demands finds a wife, the snake fay Jaratkāru, in fact, Vāsuki’s sister, and lives after the wedding in his brother-in-law’s palace amid great splendour and magnificence. “ There the best one made this covenant with his wife : ‘ Thou must never do or utter anything that is unpleasing to me. If anything unpleasing happened to me, then I should sever myself from thee and no longer dwell in thy house. Take what I have spoken unto thine heart.’ Then did the much afeared sister of the prince of snakes speak unto him these words in exceeding great sorrow : ‘ Thus shall it be.’ And strictly thus (as was agreed) did she wait on her husband in ways that are as rare as white crows, for the glorious one yearned to offer him what was pleasing.

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Babhruvāhana, whom he “ had begotten with her ” (or “ begot ”, çl. 24). The context in the last-named passage, and various other circumstances force us to this reading.

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Now once when Vāsuki's sister had just bathed herself at the time of her courses, she approached, as is seemly, her husband, the great Muni. Then there came into being in her a fruit of the body like unto fire, exceedingly endowed with brightness, full of light as the god of flames. As the moon in the bright half of the month, even so did this fruit grow. A few days later the greatly famed Jaratkāru was lying wearied asleep, having laid his head on her lap. And as this prince among Brahmans slept, the sun came to the mountain of its setting. As the day was now about to vanish, the wise sister of Vāsuki thought to herself, filled with a dread of the holy law being broken : ‘What would be a good deed for me : to wake my husband, or not? For he with the soul of virtue is angry-minded. How shall I do so as not to give him offence. Either the man of virtuous character will be angered, or he will break the holy law. The breaking of the holy law would be, indeed, of greater moment.’ So she came to a decision. ‘If I awake him, he will certainly fall into a rage. But he will inevitably fall into breaking the holy law, if he misses the twilight prayer.’¹ So soon as the snake fay Jaratkāru had thus decided in her mind, the sweet-speaking one spoke the following gentle words to this Rishi of flaming asceticism, to him like fire, who was lying there asleep : ‘Arise, O high and glorious one; the sun is setting. Perform thou the evening worship, O august one, as a strait observer of religious duty, having carried out the washing. The sweet and awful moment has come that brings the fiery sacrifice with it.² The evening twilight is now coming up in the west, O lord.’ Thus addressed, the holy and august Jaratkāru, the mighty one in penance, spoke these words to his wife, with quivering lips : ‘Hereby thou hast slighted me, O snake fay. I will no longer live with thee; I will go thither whence I came. The sun has no power to set at its usual time, if I am asleep, O thou with the lovely thighs; so I know in my heart. But none would choose to dwell here, having been slighted; how much less would I, the man of virtuous character, or one of my kind.’ Thus addressed by her husband with words that set her heart quaking, Jaratkāru, Vāsuki's sister, spoke there in his abode: ‘It was not out of slighting scorn, O Brahman, that I awoke thee. I did so that thou mightst not become guilty of any offence against the holy law.’ Thus addressed, he spoke to his wife, he the great penitent Jaratkāru, the Ṛishi overcome by anger, who wished to leave the snake fay: ‘My tongue has never yet spoken an untruth. I shall go, O snake fay. This mutual agreement I made with thee before. I have dwelt here pleasantly, my dear one. Tell thy brother, thou good one, when I have gone hence, thou timid one: “The holy man has gone.” And thou thyself have no care, when I have gone away.’ Thus addressed, she of the faultless limbs now spoke to the Muni, to Jaratkāru, the Jaratkāru with the lovely hips, sunk in sorrow and pain, with tear-stifled voice, parched mouth, hands folded before the forehead, and eyes wet with tears, as she with the lovely thighs firmly gathered up all her courage, while her heart shivered—she spoke: ‘I beg thee, thou with the knowledge of virtue, do not leave me who am guiltless, thou that abidest ever in the holy law leave not me who abide ever in the holy law, who find my delight always in what is pleasing and wholesome for thee.’” She implored him to stay, since for the welfare of her kindred and of the world of the snakes she must first have a son by him. But he assured her that the fruit of her body already conceived would be a fire-like Ṛishi, mighty in knowledge, and he went away (i, 47).

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¹ See J. J. Meyer, *Altind. Rechtsschr.*, the passages under “Dämmerungsandacht”.

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² Literally : into view.

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Like him in holiness, penitential might, and irritability was the great Muni Jamadagni, and at the same time a master of bowmanship. “Once the holy man, the Bhrigus’ son, was amusing himself by fixing and then shooting one arrow after another. These shining, flaming arrows, shot off by him were brought back again in quick succession by Reṇukā (his wife), and given to him. At the sound of the bow-string and the arrows he was joyfully stirred, and went on shooting, and she brought them back again to him. Then, when the sun, now in the summer month of Jyeshṭha, had climbed the heights of midday, the Brahman who had sent forth the arrows said these words to Reṇukā: ‘Go, big-eyed one, and bring hither those arrows that have sped from the bow, that I may shoot them off again at once, O thou with the lovely brows.’ On her way thither the glorious one went into the shade under a tree, for her head and her feet were burning hot. But when she had been standing a moment, the pure, the black-eyed one went on her way, fearing her husband’s curse, to fetch back the arrows; and the shining one came back with the arrows in her hand. Wearied, indeed, and keeping down her pain, she with the lovely limbs walked up to her husband, trembling with fear of him. Then the angry Rishi kept on saying these words to her with the shining face: ‘Reṇukā, wherefore art thou so late in coming?’ Reṇukā spoke: ‘My head and feet are truly burning, O thou rich in asceticism; being weighed down by the glow of the sun, I took shelter in the shadow of a tree. This is why, O Brahman, I took so long. Now that thou hast heard this, O lord, be not angered, O thou rich in penitence.’ Jamadagni spoke: ‘Now will I shoot down him with the flaming beams who has brought pain on thee, O Reṇukā; the sun god with my arrows by the fiery strength of the bolt¹ will I shoot down.’” The sun god, whether he likes it or no, now has to submit: he makes his appearance in the shape of a Brahman, and first tries to show the angry man that the sun must shine thus for the good of the world; and when the stubborn fellow will not listen, he soothes him with humble words and gestures, and gives him a pair of sandals, and a sunshade against the heat of the day-star. Thus did these two useful things originate. But whether the poor woman also had any service from them is not clear from the account, which, indeed, has for its object only to fire men on to give the Brahmans sunshade and sandals (xiii, 95, 96). But here, too, we are reminded of Dushyanta’s words: “By patience with their husbands women reach the virtue of faithfulness” (K., i, 100.28).

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¹ Of the arrow magic (astra)?

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Many, it is true, find it too much. A great number of the men of whom the Epic, too, tells us are mighty in asceticism; the conquest of the senses then appears as the highest end. Woman wants love; and she wants to see the man using his strength, even if it be savagely or even brutally, not in the pure ether where passion is not. “This old legend, too, is told, the discourse which was held between husband and wife. A Brahman woman spoke to a Brahman man who had reached the further shore of holy and worldly knowledge, and whom she saw sitting there alone, the wife spoke to the husband: ‘Into which world (of heaven) shall I now come, who am allotted to thee as wife, to one that has cast aside all active work, and squats there, a stupid, miserable wretch (kīnāça)? Wives come into the worlds made ready by their husbands, so we have been told. To what place shall I now go, who have fallen to thee as my husband?’ (xiv, 20.1 ff.). See, too, how King Janaka of Videha who has become a monk is upbraided by his wife as one that has forgotten his duty (xii, 18). The wife of Dīrghatama has to support him, but rids herself, as we saw, of a master who is in many respects unpleasant (i, 104.30 ff.). From the holy Atri his wife runs away and cries out: “I will no longer be subject in any way to this Muni!” (xiii, 14.95). How others, while keeping faithfully by the husband, yet give utterance to their discontent with him, of this we have already found an example in Draupadī. More will be said later. So also in the chapter on the ideal woman something more will be found on the relation of the wife to the husband. Here we give only three further examples of wedded faithfulness. Çacī is proverbial for her chastity, the wife of the woman-loving king of the gods. How she was put to a hard test is told in v, 10 ff. Indra had slain Vṛitra, and thereby burdened himself with the guilt of Brahman-murder. He therefore crept away into the water at the edge of the world. The whole world suffered most dreadfully, since now there was no Indra. The gods then appointed Nahusha, the pious guest of heaven, as his successor. But he now became an insolent ruffian, giving free rein to his lusts. All the hosts of Apsarases and houris of the gods were not enough for him: as soon as he had seen Çacī he wanted her. The gods represented to him the shamefulness of touching another man’s wife, but he made them remember that they had held their tongues quiet enough when Indra was raping Ahalyā, and doing his other foul deeds. The poor harassed queen of heaven had at last to submit, and take herself in fear and trembling to the tyrant, and ask a respite of him.

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She knew not at all, she said, what had become of her lord. Nahusha consented, and in tears she set about her search, calling after Indra, and through her womanly purity she managed it so that the goddess of oracles, Upaçruti, showed herself to her in bodily shape, and took her northwards to the Himālaya, where in a great lake a mighty lotus-flower towered up. The two went into its stalk, and there found Indra, who had taken on a slender, small shape, and hidden himself there. Çacī besought him to save her from shame. But he answered that Nahusha was too strong, and told her of a trick by which she should fool her lover. So she had to go back alone, and expose herself once more to the profaning looks and words of the burning lover. But the trick was successful, the bold rascal was overthrown, and the two rulers of the gods once more united (cp. xii, 342.28-53).

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Nārada, the great seeker after new things in heaven and on earth, once goes forth together with his nephew on a very diverting ramble through the lands of the earth. They make the agreement that “whatever wish the one may have, he must let the other know of it, be it good or evil; otherwise the curse will light on him for an untruth”. They invite themselves as guests of King Śrīñjaya for an indefinite time. The king one day says : “I have a daughter with a fair face. She is my only girl. She shall wait on you. She is lovely to look on, with a faultless body, wholly given to virtuous ways, a tender maid, bright-shining as a filament of the lotus-flower.” “That is a friendliness without compare,” said the two. The king gave her his bidding : “Girl, wait on the two Brahmans, as though they were gods or thine own fathers.” The maiden, she that lived after the law, said “Yes” to her father, and did honour and service to the two according to the king’s bidding. Because of her service and her peerless beauty love came swift and sudden on Nārada. And passion waxed in the heart of the high-souled one, as the moon waxes step by step, when the bright half of the month has come. But for shame the knower of the law did not tell his nephew of this violent love of his, did not tell the high-souled Parvata.” But Parvata noticed all, and on the close one put the curse of becoming an ape. Nārada got his beloved one as wife, but the curse was also fulfilled, and, indeed, directly after the wedding. But she loved him even thus, and kept strict faith with him (xii, 30 ; cp. vii, 55).

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The king's daughter, Sukanyā had aroused the anger of the old and ugly penitent Cyavana, and was given him to wife that he might forget his deadly wrath. The two Açvins saw her bathing unclad (kṛtābhiṣekāṃ vivṛtāṃ), like a daughter of the ruler of the gods, and told her how foolish she was to waste her wonderful beauty and her blooming youth beside her withered old husband, who could not protect or support her either ; she must choose one of them for a husband. But she spoke : “ I am content with my husband Cyavana ; do not, I beg you, believe such evil of me.” Then these two physicians of the gods offered to make the old man a handsome youth ; then she should pick out one of the three for herself. All three dived into a pond, and came up in a moment exactly alike in youth, beauty, and form. Each one shouted : “ Choose me !” But she with her mind and her heart still found her husband out, and chose him (iii, 123).¹ Cp. iv, 21.10–14.

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¹ Cp. Hopkins, “ The Fountain of Youth,” JAOS, 26, p. 44 ff. ; Crooke, Popul. Relig., etc., i, 59 f. ; Bhāgavatapur., ix, 3.1 ff.

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XII

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