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 tradition, fancy, or liaisons.
It is interesting to note how they got around the difficulty. They
either made their heroines bayadères, or princesses, or girls willing
to be married in a way allowing them their own choice, but not reputed
respectable. Bayadères, though not permitted to marry, were at liberty
to choose their temporary companions. Cûdraka indulges in the poetic
license of making Vasantasena superior to other bayadères and
rewarding her in the end by a regular marriage as the hero's wife
number two. By way of securing variety, apsaras, or celestial
bayadères, were brought on the scene, as in Kalidasa's _Urvasi_,
permitting the poet to indulge in still bolder flights of fancy.
Princesses, again, were favorite heroines, for various reasons, one of
which was the tradition concerning the custom called Svayamvara or
"Maiden's Choice"--a princess being "permitted," after a tournament,
to "choose" the victor. The story of _Nala and Damayanti_ has made us
familiar with a similar meeting of kings, at which the princess
chooses the lover she has determined on beforehand, though she has
never seen him. Apart from the fantasticality of this episode, it is
obvious that even if the Svayamvara was once a custom in royal circles
it did not really insure to the princesses free choice of a rational
kind. Brought up in strict seclusion, a king's daughter could never
have seen any of the men competing for her. The victor might be the
least sympathetic to her of all, and even if she had a large number of
suitors to choose from, her selection could not be based on anything
but the momentary and superficial judgment; of the eye. But for
dramatic purposes the Svayamvara was useful.


VOLUNTARY UNIONS NOT RESPECTABLE

In _Sakuntala_, Kalidasa resorts to the third of the expedients I have
mentioned. The king weds the girl whom he finds in the grove of the
saints in accordance with a form which was not regarded as
respectable--marriage based on mutual inclination, without the
knowledge of the parents. The laws of Mann (III., 20-134) recognized
eight kinds of marriage:

(1) gift of a daughter to a man learned in the Vedas,
(2) gift of a daughter to a priest; (3) gift of a
daughter in return for presents of cows, etc.; (4) gift
of a daughter, with a dress. In these four the father
gives away his daughter as he chooses. In (5) the groom
buys the girl with presents to her kinsmen or herself;
(6) is voluntary union; (7) forcible abduction (in
war); (8) rape of a girl asleep, or drunk, or imbecile.

In other words, of the eight kinds of marriage recognized by Hindoo
law and custom only one is based on free choice, and of that Mann
says: "The voluntary connection of a maiden and a man is to be known
as a Gandharva union, which arises from lust." It is classed among the
blamable marriages. Even this appears not to have been a legal form
before Mann. It is blamable because contracted without the consent or
knowledge of the parents, and because, unless the sacred fire has been
obtained from a Brahman to sanctify it, such a marriage is merely a
temporary union. Gandharvas, after whom it is named, are singers and
other musicians in Indra's heaven, who, like the apsaras, enter into
unions that are not intended to be enduring, but are dissoluble at
will. Such marriages (liaisons we call them) are frequently mentioned
in Hindoo literature (_e.g., Hitopadesa_, p. 85). Malati (30) chides
her friend for advising her to make a secret marriage, and later on
exclaims (75): "I am lost! What a girl must not do, my friend counsels
me." The orthodox view is unfolded by the Buddhist nun Kamándaki(33):
"We hear of Duschyanta loving Sakuntala, of Pururavas loving Urvasi
... but these cases look like arbitrary action and cannot be commended
as models." In _Sakuntala_, too, the king feels it incumbent on him to
apologize to the girl he covets, when she bids him not to transgress
the laws of propriety, by exclaiming that many other girls have thus
been taken by kings without incurring parental disapproval. The
directions for this form of courtship given in the _Kama Soutra_
indicate that Sakuntala had every reason to appeal to the rules of
propriety, social and moral. Kalidasa spares us the details.

The king's desertion of Sakuntala after he had obtained his
self-indulgent object was quite in accordance with the spirit of a
Gandharva marriage. Kalidasa, for dramatic purposes, makes it a result
of a saint's curse, which enables him to continue his story
interestingly. A poet has a right to such license, even though it
takes him out of the realm of realism. Hindoo poets, like others, know
how to rise above sordid reality into a more ideal sphere, and for
this reason, even if we had found in the dramas of India a portrayal
of true love, it would not prove that it existed outside of a poet's
glowing and prophetic fancy. There is a Hindoo saying, "Do not strike
a woman, even with a flower;" but we have seen that these Hindoos
often do physically abuse their wives most cruelly, besides subjecting
them to indescribable mental anguish, and mental anguish is much more
painful and more prolonged than bodily torture. Fine words do not make
fine feelings. From this point of view Dalton was perhaps right when
he asserted that the wild tribes of India come closer to us in their
love-affairs than the more cultured Hindoos, with their "unromantic
heart-schooling." We have seen that Albrecht Weber's high estimate of
the Hindoo's romantic sentiment does not bear the test of a close
psychological analysis.

The Hindoo may have fewer uncultivated traits of emotion than the wild
tribesmen, but they are in the same field. Hindoo civilization rose to
splendid heights, in some respects, and even the great moral principle
of altruism was cultivated; but it was not applied to the relations
between the sexes, and thus we see once more that the refinement of
the affections--especially the sexual affections--comes last in the
evolution of civilization. Masculine selfishness and sensuality have
prevented the Hindoo from entering the Elysian fields of romantic
love. He has always allowed, and still allows, the minds of women to
lie fallow, being contented with their bodily charms, and unaware that
the most delightful of all sexual differences are those of mind and
character. To quote once more the Abbé Dubois (I., 271), the most
minute and philosophic observer of Indian manners and morals:

"The Hindoos are nurtured in the belief that there can
be nothing disinterested or innocent in the intercourse
between a man and a woman; and however Platonic the
attachment might be between two persons of different
sex, it would be infallibly set down to sensual love."


DOES THE BIBLE IGNORE ROMANTIC LOVE?

My assertion that there are no cases of romantic love recorded in the
Bible naturally aroused opposition, and not a few critics lifted up
their voices in loud protest against such ignorant audacity. The case
for the defence was well summed up in the Rochester _Post-Express:_

"The ordinary reader will find many love-stories in the
Scriptures, What are we to think, for instance, of this
passage from the twenty-ninth chapter of Genesis: 'And
Laban had two daughters: the name of the elder was
Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah was
tender-eyed; but Rachel was beautiful and well-favored.
And Jacob loved Rachel; and said, I will serve thee
seven years for Rachel thy younger daughter. And Laban
said, It is better that I give her to thee, than that I
should give her to another man: abide with me. And
Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed
unto him but a few days, for the love he had for her,'
It may be said that after marriage Jacob's love was not
of the modern conjugal type; but certainly his
pre-matrimonial passion was self-sacrificing, enduring,
and hopeful enough for a mediaeval romance. The
courtship of Ruth and Boaz is a bold and pretty
love-story, which details the scheme of an old widow
and a young widow for the capture of a wealthy kinsman.
The Song of Solomon is, on the surface, a wonderful
love-poem. But it is needless to multiply illustrations
from this source."

A Chicago critic declared that it would be easy to show that from the
moment when Adam said,

"This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called woman, because she was taken out of
man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his
mother, and cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one
flesh"

--from that moment unto this day "that which it pleases our author to
call romantic love has been substantially one and the same thing....
Has this writer never heard of Isaac and Rebekah; of Jacob and
Rachel?" A Philadelphia reviewer doubted whether I believed in my own
theory because I ignored in my chapter on love among the Hebrews "the
story of Jacob and Rachel and other similar instances of what deserves
to be called romantic love among the Hebrews." Professor H.O. Trumbull
emphatically repudiates my theory in his _Studies in Oriental Social
Life_ (62-63); proceeding:

"Yet in the very first book of the Old Testament
narrative there appears the story of young Jacob's
romantic love for Rachel, a love which was inspired by
their first meeting [Gen. 29: 10-18] and which was
afresh and tender memory in the patriarch Jacob's mind
when long years after he had buried her in Canaan [Gen.
35: 16-20] he was on his deathbed in Egypt [Gen. 48:
1-7]. In all the literature of romantic love in all the
ages there can be found no more touching exhibit of the
true-hearted fidelity of a romantic lover than that
which is given of Jacob in the words: 'And Jacob served
seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a
few days for the love he had to her.' And the entire
story confirms the abiding force of that sentiment.
There are, certainly, gleams of romantic love from out
of the clouds of degraded human passion in the ancient
East, in the Bible stories of Shechem and Dinah [Gen.
34: 1-31], of Samson and the damsel of Timnath [Judg.
14: 1-3], of David and Abigail [I. Sam. 25: 1-42], of
Adonijah and Abishag [I. Kings 2: 13-17], and other men
and women of whom the Scriptures tell us."

Cénac Moncaut, who begins his _Histoire de l'Amour dans l'Antiquité_
with Adam and Eve, declares (28-31) that the episode of Jacob and
Rachel marks the birth of perfect love in the world, the beginning of
its triumph, followed, however, by relapses in days of darkness and
degradation. If all these writers are correct then my theory falls to
the ground and romantic love must be conceded to be at least four
thousand years old, instead of less than one thousand. But let us look
at the facts in detail and see whether there is really no difference
between ancient Hebrew and modern Christian love.

The Rev. Stopford Brooke has remarked:

"Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph may have existed as real
men, and played their part in the founding of the Jewish
race, but their stories, as we have them, are as entirely
legendary as those of Arthur or Siegfried, of Agamemnon or
Charlemagne."

This consideration would bring the date of the story
from the time when Jacob is supposed to have lived down to the much
later time when the legend was elaborated. I have no desire, however,
to seek refuge behind such chronological uncertainties, nor to
reassert that my theory is a question of evolution rather than of
dates, and that, therefore, if Jacob and Rachel, during their
prolonged courtship, had the qualities of mind and character to feel
the exalted sentiment of romantic love, we might concede in their case
an exception which, by its striking isolation, would only prove the
rule. I need no such refuge, for I can see no reason whatever for
accepting the story of Jacob and Rachel as an exceptional instance of
romantic love.


THE STORY OF JACOB AND RACHEL

Nothing could be more charmingly poetic than this story as told by the
old Hebrew chronicler. The language is so simple yet so pictorial that
we fancy we can actually see Jacob as he accosts the shepherds at the
well to ask after his uncle Laban, and they reply "Behold, Rachel his
daughter cometh with the sheep." We see him as he rolls the stone from
the well's mouth and waters his uncle's flocks; we see him as he
kisses Rachel and lifts up his voice and weeps. He kisses her of
course by right of being a relative, and not as a lover; for we cannot
suppose that even an Oriental shepherd girl could have been so devoid
of maidenly prudence and coyness as to give a love-kiss to a stranger
at their first meeting. Though apparently her cousin (Gen. 28: 2;
29:10), Jacob tells her he is her uncle; "and Jacob told Rachel that
he was her father's brother."[286] There was the less impropriety in
his kissing her, as she was probably a girl of fifteen or sixteen and
he old enough to be her grandfather, or even great-grandfather, his
age at the time of meeting her being seventy-seven.[287] But as men
are reported to have aged slowly in those days, this did not prevent
him from desiring to marry Rachel, for whose sake he was willing to
serve her father. Strange to say, the words "And Jacob served seven
years for Rachel" have been accepted as proof of self-sacrifice by
several writers, including Dr. Abel, who cites those words as
indicating that the ancient Hebrews knew "the devotion of love, which
gladly _serves the beloved_ and shuns no toil in her behalf." In
reality Jacob's seven years of service have nothing whatever to do
with self-sacrifice. He did not "serve his beloved" but her father;
did not toil "in her behalf" but on his own behalf. He was simply
doing that very unromantic thing, paying for his wife by working a
stipulated time for her father, in accordance with a custom prevalent
among primitive peoples the world over. Our text is very explicit on
the subject; after Jacob had been with his relative a month Laban had
said unto him: "Because thou art my brother shouldst thou therefore
serve me for naught? tell me what shall thy wages be?" And Jacob had
chosen Rachel for his wages. Rachel and Leah themselves quite
understood the commercial nature of the matrimonial arrangement; for
when, years afterward, they are prepared to leave their father they
say: "Is there yet any portion or inheritance for us in our father's
house? Are we not counted of him strangers? for he hath sold us, and
hath also quite devoured the price paid for us."

Instead of the sentimental self-sacrifice of a devoted lover for his
mistress we have here, therefore, simply an example of a prosaic,
mercenary marriage custom familiar to all students of anthropology.
But how about the second half of that sentence, which declares that
Jacob's seven years of service "seemed to him but a few days for the
love he had for her?" Is not this the language of an expert in love?
Many of my critics, to my surprise, seemed to think so, but I am
convinced that none of them can have ever been in love or they would
have known that a lover is so impatient and eager to call his beloved
irrevocably his own, so afraid that someone else might steal away her
affection from him, that Jacob's seven years, instead of shrinking to
a few days, would have seemed to him like seven times seven years.

A minute examination of the story of Jacob and Rachel thus reveals
world-wide differences between the ancient Hebrew and the modern
Christian conceptions of love, corresponding, we have no reason to
doubt, to differences in actual feeling. And as we proceed, these
differences become more and more striking:

"And Jacob said unto Laban, Give me my wife, for my
days are fulfilled, that I may go in unto her. And
Laban gathered together all the men of the place, and
made a feast. And it came to pass in the evening, that
he took Leah his daughter, and brought her to him; and
he went in unto her.... And it came to pass, in the
morning that, behold, it was Leah: and he said to
Laban, What is this thou has done unto me? Did not I
serve with thee for Rachel? Wherefore then hast thou
beguiled me? And Laban said, It is not so done in our
place, to give the younger before the first-born.
Fulfil the week of this one, and we will give thee the
other also for the service which thou shalt serve with
me yet seven other years. And Jacob did so, and
fulfilled her week; and he gave him Rachel his daughter
to wife."

Surely it would be difficult to condense into so few lines more facts
and conditions abhorrent to the Christian conception of the sanctity
of love than is done in this passage. Can anyone deny that in a modern
Christian country Laban's breach of contract with Jacob, his
fraudulent substitution of the wrong daughter, and Jacob's meek
acceptance of two wives in eight days would not only arouse a storm of
moral indignation, but would land both these men in a police court and
in jail? I say this not in a flippant spirit, but merely to bring out
as vividly as possible the difference between the ancient Hebrew and
modern Christian ideals of love. Furthermore, what an utter ignorance
or disregard of the rights of personal preference, sympathy, and all
the higher ingredients of love, is revealed in Laban's remark that it
was not customary to give the younger daughter in marriage before the
older had been disposed of! And how utterly opposed to the modern
conception of love is the sequel of the story, in which we are told
that "because" Leah was _hated_ by her husband "therefore" she was
made fruitful, and she bore him four sons, while the beloved Rachel
remained barren! Was personal preference thus not only to be repressed
by marrying off girls according to their age, but even punished? No
doubt it was, according to the Hebrew notion; in their patriarchal
mode of life the father was the absolute tyrant in the household, who
reserved the right to select spouses for both his sons and daughters,
and felt aggrieved if his plans were interfered with. The object of
marriage was not to make a happy, sympathetic couple, but to raise
sons; wherefore the hated Leah naturally exclaims, after she has borne
Reuben, her first son, "Now my husband will love me." That is not the
kind of love we look for in our marriages. We expect a man to love his
wife for her own sake.

This notion, that the birth of sons is the one object of marriage, and
the source of conjugal love, is so preponderant in the minds of these
women that it crowds out all traces of monopoly or jealousy. Leah and
Rachel not only submit to Laban's fraudulent substitution on the
wedding-night, but each one meekly accepts her half of Jacob's
attentions. The utter absence of jealousy is strikingly revealed in
this passage:

"And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children,
Rachel envied her sister; and she said unto Jacob, Give
me children, or else I die. And Jacob's anger was
kindled against Rachel: and he said, Am I in God's
stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the
womb? And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto
her; that she may bear upon my knees, and I also may
obtain children by her. And she gave him Bilhah her
handmaid to wife: and Jacob went in unto her. And
Bilhah conceived and bare Jacob a son.... And Bilhah,
Rachel's handmaid, conceived again, and bare Jacob a
second son.... When Leah saw she had left bearing, she
took Zilpah her handmaid, and gave her to Jacob to
wife. And Zilpah Leah's handmaid bare Jacob a son....
And God hearkened unto Leah, and she conceived, and
bare Jacob a fifth son. And Leah said, God hath given
me my hire, because I gave my handmaid to my husband."

Thus polygamy and concubinage are treated not only as a matter of
course, but as a cause for divine reward! It might be said that there
does exist a sort of jealousy between Leah and Rachel: a rivalry as to
which of the two shall bear their husband the more sons, either by
herself or by proxy. But how utterly different this rivalry is from
the jealousy of a modern Christian wife, the very essence of which
lies in the imperative insistence on the exclusive affection and
chaste fidelity of her husband! And as modern Christian jealousy
differs from ancient Hebrew jealousy, so does modern romantic love in
general differ from Hebrew love. There is not a line in the story of
Jacob and Rachel indicating the existence of monopoly, jealousy,
coyness, hyperbole, mixed moods, pride, sympathy, gallantry,
self-sacrifice, adoration, purity. Of the thirteen essential
ingredients of romantic love only two are implied--individual
preference and admiration of personal beauty. Jacob preferred Rachel
to Leah, and this preference was based on her bodily charms: she was
"beautiful and well-favored." Of the higher mental phases of personal
beauty not a word is said.

In the case of the women, not even their individual preference is
hinted at, and this is eminently characteristic of the ancient Hebrew
notions and practices in regard to marriage. Did Rachel and Leah marry
Jacob because they preferred him to all other men they knew? To Laban
and his contemporaries such a question would have seemed absurd. They
knew nothing of marriage as a union of souls. The woman was not
considered at all. The object of marriage, as in India, was to raise
sons, in order that there might be someone to represent the departed
father. Being chiefly for the father's benefit, the marriage was
naturally arranged by him. As a matter of fact, even Jacob did not
select his own wife!

"And Isaac called Jacob, and blessed him, and charged
him and said unto him, Thou shalt not take a wife of
the daughters of Canaan, Arise, go to Padan-aram, to
the house of Bethuel, thy mothers father; and take thee
a wife from thence of the daughters of Laban thy
mother's brother."

And Jacob did as ordered. His choice was limited to the two sisters.


THE COURTING OF REBEKAH

Isaac himself had even less liberty of choice than Jacob. He courted
Rebekah by proxy--or rather his father courted her through her father,
for him, by proxy! When Abraham was stricken with age he said to his
servant, the elder of his house, that ruled over all that he had, and
enjoined on him, under oath,

"thou shalt not take a wife for my son of the daughters
of the Canaanites, among whom I shall dwell; but thou
shalt go into my country, and to my kindred, and take a
wife for my son Isaac."

And the servant did as he had been ordered. He journeyed to the city
of Mesopotamia where Abraham's brother Nahor and his descendants
dwelt. As he lingered at the well, Rebekah came out with her pitcher
upon her shoulder. "And the damsel was very fair to look upon, a
virgin, neither had any man known her." And she filled her pitcher and
gave him drink and then drew water and filled the trough for all his
camels. And he gave her a ring and two bracelets of gold. And she ran
and told her mother's house what had happened. And her brother Laban
ran out to meet the servant of Abraham and brought him to the house.
Then the servant delivered his message to him and to Rebekah's father,
Bethuel; and they answered: "Behold, Rebekah is before thee, take her,
and go, and let her be thy master's son's wife." And he wanted to take
her next day, but they wished her to abide with them at the least ten
days longer. "And they said, We will call the damsel, and inquire at
her mouth. And they called Rebekah, and said unto her, wilt thou go
with this man? And she said, I will go. And they sent away Rebekah
their sister, and her nurse, and Abraham's servant, and his men." And
Isaac was in the field meditating when he saw their camels coming
toward him. Rebekah lifted up her eyes, and when she saw Isaac she
lighted off her camel, and asked the servant who was the man coming to
meet them; and when he said it was his master, she took her veil and
covered herself. And Isaac brought her into her mother's tent and she
became his wife, and he loved her.

Such is the story of the courting of Rebekah. It resembles a story of
modern courtship and love about as much as the Hebrew language
resembles the English, and calls for no further comment. But there is
another story to consider; my critics accused me of ignoring the three
R's of Hebrew love--Rachel, Rebekah, and Ruth. "The courtship of Ruth
and Boaz is a bold and pretty love-story." Bold and pretty, no doubt;
but let us see if it is a love-story. The following omits no essential
point.


HOW RUTH COURTED BOAZ

It came to pass during a famine that a certain man went to sojourn in
the country of Moab with his wife, whose name was Naomi, and two sons.
The husband died there and the two sons also, having married, died
after ten years, leaving Naomi a widow with two widowed
daughters-in-law, whose names were Orpah and Ruth. She decided to
return to the country whence she had come, but advised the younger
widows to remain and go back to the families of their mothers. I am
too old, she said, to bear again husbands for you, and even if I could
do so, would you therefore tarry till they were grown? Orpah thereupon
kissed her mother-in-law and went back to her people; but Ruth clave
unto her and said "Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou
lodgest, I will lodge.... Where thou diest, will I die." So the two
went until they came to Bethlehem, in which place Naomi had a kinsman
of her husband, a mighty man of wealth, whose name was Boaz. They
arrived in the beginning of the barley harvest, and Ruth went and
gleaned in the field after the reapers. Her hap was to light on the
portion of the field belonging to Boaz. When he saw her he asked the
reapers "Whose damsel is this?" And they told him. Then Boaz spoke to
Ruth and told her to glean in his field and abide with his maidens,
and when athirst drink of that which the young men had drawn; and he
told the young men not to touch her. At meal-time he gave her bread to
eat and vinegar to dip it in, and he told his young men to let her
glean even among the sheaves and also to pull out some for her from
the bundles, and leave it, and let her glean and rebuke her not. And
he did all this because, as he said to her,

"It hath been shewed me, all that them hast done to thy
mother-in-law since the death of thine husband: and how thou
hast left thy father and mother, and the land of thy
nativity, and art come unto a people which thou knewest not
heretofore."

So Ruth gleaned in the field until even; then she beat out what she
had gleaned and took it to Naomi and told her all that had happened.
And Naomi said unto her,

"My daughter, shall I not seek rest for thee, that it
may be well with thee? And now is there not Boaz our
kinsman, with whose maidens thou wast? Behold, he
winnoweth barley to-night in the threshing-floor. Wash
thyself therefore, and anoint thee and put thy raiment
upon thee, and get thee down to the threshing-floor;
but make not thyself known unto the man, until he shall
have done eating and drinking. And it shall be, when he
lieth down, that thou shalt mark the place where he
shall lie, and thou shalt go in, and uncover his feet,
and lay thee down; and he will tell thee what thou wilt
do."

And Ruth did as her mother-in-law bade her. And when Boaz had eaten
and drunk, and his heart was merry, he went to lie down at the end of
the heap of corn; and she came softly and uncovered his feet, and laid
her down. And it came to pass at midnight, that the man was afraid
[startled], and turned himself; and, behold, a woman lay at his feet.
And he said, "who art thou?" And she answered, "I am Ruth thine
handmaid; spread therefore thy skirt over thine handmaid; for thou art
a near kinsman." And he said,

"Blessed be thou of the Lord, my daughter; thou hast
shewed more kindness in the latter end, than at the
beginning, inasmuch as thou followedst not young men,
whether poor or rich. And now, my daughter, fear not; I
will do to thee all that thou sayest; for all the city
of my people doth know that thou art a virtuous woman.
And now it is true that I am a near kinsman: howbeit
there is a kinsman nearer than I. Tarry this night, and
it shall be in the morning, that if he will perform
unto thee the part of a kinsman, well; let him do the
kinsman's part; but if he will not do the part of a
kinsman to thee, then will I do the part of a kinsman
to thee, as the LORD liveth: lie down until the
morning."

And she lay at his feet until the morning: and she rose up before one
could discern another. For he said, "Let it not be known that the
woman came to the threshing-floor." Then he gave her six measures of
barley and went into the city. He sat at the gate until the other
kinsman he had spoken of came by, and Boaz said to him,

"Naomi selleth the parcel of land which was our brother
Elimelech's. If thou wilt redeem it, redeem it; but if
thou wilt not redeem it, then tell me that I may know;
for there is none to redeem it beside thee; and I am
after thee. What day thou buyest the field of the hand
of Naomi, thou must buy it also of Ruth, the wife of
the dead, to raise up the name of the dead upon his
inheritance."

And the near kinsman said, "I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I
mar mine own inheritance; take then my right of redemption on thee;
for I cannot redeem it. Buy it for thyself." And he drew off his shoe.
And Boaz called the elders to witness, saying,

"Ruth the Moabitess, the wife of Mahlon, have I
purchased to be my wife, to raise up the name of the
dead upon his inheritance, that the name of the dead be
not cut off from among his brethren, and from the gate
of his place."

So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife.

How anyone can read this charmingly told, frank, and realistic tale of
ancient Hebrew life and call it a love-story, passeth all
understanding. There is not the slightest suggestion of love, either
sensual or sentimental, on the part of either Ruth or Boaz. Ruth, at
the suggestion of her mother-in-law, spends a night in a way which
would convict a Christian widow, to say the least, of an utter lack of
that modesty and coy reserve which are a woman's great charm, and
which, even among the pastoral Hebrews, cannot have been approved,
inasmuch as Boaz did not want it to be known that she had come to the
threshing-floor. He praises Ruth for following "not young men, whether
rich or poor." She followed him, a wealthy old man. Would love have
acted thus? What she wanted was not a lover but a protector ("rest for
thee that it may be well for thee," as Naomi said frankly), and above
all a son in order that her husband's name might not perish. Boaz
understands this as a matter of course; but so far is he, on his part,
from being in love with Ruth, that he offers her first to the other
relative, and on his refusal, buys her for himself, without the least
show of emotion indicating that he was doing anything but his duty. He
was simply fulfilling the law of the Levirate, as written in
Deuteronomy (25:5), ordaining that if a husband die without leaving a
son his brother shall take the widow to him to wife and perform the
duty of an husband's brother unto her; that is, to beget a son (the
first-born) who shall succeed in the name of his dead brother, "that
his name be not blotted out of Israel." How very seriously the Hebrews
took this law is shown by the further injunction that if a brother
refuses thus to perform his duty,

"then the elders of his city shall call him, and speak
unto him: and if he stand and say, I like not to take
her; then shall his brother's wife come into him in the
presence of the elders, and loose his shoe off his
foot, and spit in his face; and she shall answer and
say, so shall it be done unto the man that doth not
build up his brother's house. And his name shall be
called in Israel, the house of him that hath his shoe
loosed."

Onan was even slain for thus refusing to do his duty (Gen. 38:8-10).


NO SYMPATHY OR SENTIMENT

The three R's of Hebrew love thus show how these people arranged their
marriages with reference to social and religious customs or
utilitarian considerations, buying their wives by service or
otherwise, without any thought of sentimental preferences and
sympathies, such as underlie modern Christian marriages of the higher
order. It might be argued that the ingredients of romantic love
existed, but simply are not dwelt on in the old Hebrew stories. But it
is impossible to believe that the Bible, that truly inspired and
wonderfully realistic transcript of life, which records the minutest
details, should have neglected in its thirty-nine books, making over
seven hundred pages of fine print, to describe at least one case of
sentimental infatuation, romantic adoration, and self-sacrificing
devotion in pre-matrimonial love, had such love existed. Why should it
have neglected to describe the manifestations of sentimental love,
since it dwells so often on the symptoms and results of sensual
passion? Stories of lust abound in the Hebrew Scriptures; Genesis
alone has five. The Lord repented that he had made man on earth and
destroyed even his chosen people, all but Noah, because every
imagination in the thoughts of man's heart "was only evil
continually." But the flood did not cure the evil, nor did the
destruction of Sodom, as a warning example. It is after those events
that the stories are related of Lot's incestuous daughters, the
seduction of Dinah, the crime of Judah and Tamar, the lust of
Potiphar's wife, of David and Bath-sheba, of Amnon and Tamar, of
Absalom on the roof, with many other references to such crimes.[288]


A MASCULINE IDEAL OF WOMANHOOD

There is every reason to conclude that these ancient Jews, unlike many
of their modern descendants, knew only the coarser phases of the
instinct which draws man to woman. They knew not romantic love for the
simple reason that they had not discovered the charm of refined
femininity, or even recognized woman's right to exist for her own
sake, and not merely as man's domestic servant and the mother of his
sons. "Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over
thee," Eve was told in Eden, and her male descendants administered
that punishment zealously and persistently; whereas the same lack of
gallantry which led Adam to put all the blame on Eve impelled his
descendants to make the women share his part of the curse too--"In the
sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread"; for they were obliged to do
not only all the work in the house, but most of that in the fields,
seething under a tropical sun. From this point of view the last
chapter of the Proverbs (31:10-31) is instructive. It is often
referred to as a portrait of a perfect woman, but in reality it is
little more than a picture of Hebrew masculine selfishness. Of the
forty-five lines making up this chapter, nine are devoted to praise of
the feminine virtues of fidelity to a husband, kindness to the needy,
strength, dignity, wisdom, and fear of the Lord; while the rest of the
chapter goes to show that the Hebrew woman indeed "eateth not the
bread of idleness," and that the husband "shall have no lack of
gain"--or spoil, as the alternative reading is:

"She seeketh wool and flax and worketh willingly with
her hands. She is like the merchant ships: she bringeth
her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet
night, and giveth meat to her household, and their task
to the maidens. She considereth a field and buyeth it;
with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard....
She perceiveth that her merchandise is profitable. Her
lamp goeth not out by night. She layeth her hands to
the distaff, and her hands hold the spindle.... She
maketh for herself carpets of tapestry.... She maketh
linen garments and selleth them; and delivereth girdles
unto the merchant."

As for the husband, he "is known in the gates, When he sitteth among
the elders of the land," which is an easy and pleasant thing to do;
hardly in accordance with the curse the Lord pronounced on Adam and
his male descendants. The wife being thus the maid of all work, as
among Indians and other primitive races, it is natural that the
ancient Hebrew ideal of femininity should he masculine: "She girdeth
her loins with strength, and maketh strong her arms;" while the
feminine charms are sneered at: "Favor is deceitful, and beauty is
vain."


NOT THE CHRISTIAN IDEAL OF LOVE

Not only feminine charms, but the highest feminine virtues are
sometimes strangely, nay, shockingly disregarded, as in the story of
Lot (Gen. 19:1-12), who, when besieged by the mob clamoring for the
two men who had taken refuge in his house, went out and said:

"I pray you, my brethren, do not so wickedly. Behold
now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let
me, I pray you, bring them out unto you, and do ye to
them as is good in your eyes; only unto these men do
nothing, forasmuch as they are come under the shadow of
my roof."

And this man was saved, though his action was surely more villainous
than the wickedness of the Sodomites who were destroyed with brimstone
and fire. In Judges (19: 22-30) we read of a man offering his maiden
daughter and his concubine to a mob to prevent an unnatural crime
being committed against his guest: "Seeing that this man is come into
my house, do not this folly." This case is of extreme sociological
importance as showing that notwithstanding the strict laws of Moses
(Levit. 20: 10; Deut. 22: 13-30) on sexual crimes, the law of
hospitality seems to have been held more sacred than a father's regard
for his daughter's honor. The story of Abraham shows, too, that he did
not hold his wife's honor in the same esteem as a modern Christian
does:

"And it came to pass, when he was come near to enter
into Egypt, that he said unto Sarai his wife, 'Behold
now, I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon;
and it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians shall see
thee, that they shall say, This is his wife; and they
will kill me, but they will save thee alive. Say, I
pray thee, Thou art my sister; that it may be well with
me for thy sake, and that my soul may live because of
thee."

And it happened as he had arranged. She was taken into Pharaoh's house
and he was treated well for her sake; and he had sheep, and oxen, and
other presents. When he went to sojourn in Gerar (Gen. 20:1-15)
Abraham tried to repeat the same stratagem, taking refuge, when found
out, in the double excuse that he was afraid he would be slain for his
wife's sake, and that she really was his sister, the daughter of his
father, but not the daughter of his mother. Isaac followed his
father's example in Gerar:

"The man of the place asked him of his wife; and he
said, She is my sister: for he feared to say, My wife;
lest (said he) the men of the place should kill me for
Rebekah; because she was fair to look upon."

Yet we were told that Isaac loved Rebekah. Such is not Christian love.
The actions of Abraham and Isaac remind one of the Blackfoot Indian
tale told on page 631 of this volume. An American army officer would
not only lay down his own life, but shoot his wife with his own pistol
before he would allow her to fall into the enemy's hands, because to
him her honor is, of all things human, the most sacred.


UNCHIVALROUS SLAUGHTER OF WOMEN

Emotions are the product of actions or of ideas about actions.
Inasmuch as Hebrew actions toward women and ideas about them were so