Thus a passage which at first sight seemed sentimental and romantic, resolves itself into flabby sensualism, with no more moral fibre than the “love” of the typical Turk, as revealed, for instance, in a love song, communicated by Eugene Schuyler (I., 135): 

“Nightingale!  I am sad!  As passionately as thou lovest the rose, so loudly sing that my loved one awake.  Let me die in the embrace of my dear one, for I envy no one.  I know that thou hast many lovers; but what affair of mine is that?”

One of the most characteristic literary curiosities relating to monopolism that I have found occurs in the Hindoo drama, Malavika and Agnimitra (Act V.).  While intended very seriously, to us it reads for all the world like a polygamous parody by Artemus Ward of Byron’s lines just cited ("She was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all").  An Indian queen having generously bestowed on her husband a rival to be his second wife, Kausiki, a Buddhist nun, commends her action in these words: 

“I am not surprised at your magnanimity.  If wives are kind and devoted to their husbands they even serve them by bringing them new wives, like the streams which become channels for conveying the water of the rivers to the ocean.”

Monopolism has a watch-dog, a savage Cerberus, whose duty it is to ward off intruders.  He goes by the name of Jealousy, and claims our attention next.

III.  JEALOUSY

For love, thou know’st, is full of jealousy.
—­Shakspere.

Jealousy may exist apart from sexual love, but there can be no such love without jealousy, potential at any rate, for in the absence of provocation it need never manifest itself.  Of all the ingredients of love it is the most savage and selfish, as commonly witnessed, and we should therefore expect it to be present at all stages of this passion, including the lowest.  Is this the case?  The answer depends entirely upon what we mean by jealousy.  Giraud-Teulon and Le Bon have held—­as did Rousseau long before them—­that this passion is unknown among almost all uncivilized peoples, whereas the latest writer on the subject, Westermarck, tries to prove (117) that “jealousy is universally prevalent in the human race at the present day” and that “it is impossible to believe that there ever was a time when man was devoid of that powerful feeling.”  It seems strange that doctors should disagree so radically on what seems so simple a question; but we shall see that the question is far from being simple, and that the dispute arose from that old source of confusion, the use of one word for several entirely different things.

RAGE AT RIVALS