husband's ministers came, when they were troubled by the Raja's
gambling, that of Gandhari, in the Council of Kings and Warrior Chiefs,
remonstrating with her headstrong son; in later days, of Padmavati of
Chitoor, of Mirabai of Marwar, the sweet poetess, of Tarabai of Thoda,
the warrior, of Chand Bibi, the defender of Ahmednagar, of Ahalya Bai of
Indore, the great Ruler--all these and countless others are well known.

Only in the last two or three generations have Indian women slipped away
from their place at their husbands' side, and left them unhelped in
their public life. But even now they wield great influence over husband
and son. Culture has never forsaken them, but the English education of
their husbands and sons, with the neglect of Sanskrit and the
Vernacular, have made a barrier between the culture of the husband and
that of the wife, and has shut the woman out from her old sympathy with
the larger life of men. While the interests of the husband have
widened, those of the wife have narrowed. The materialising of the
husband tended also, by reaction, to render the wife's religion less
broad and wise.

The wish to save their sons from the materialising results of English
education awoke keen sympathy among Indian mothers with the movement to
make religion an integral part of education. It was, perhaps, the first
movement in modern days which aroused among them in all parts a keen and
living interest.

The Partition of Bengal was bitterly resented by Bengali women, and was
another factor in the outward-turning change. When the editor of an
Extremist newspaper was prosecuted for sedition, convicted and
sentenced, five hundred Bengali women went to his mother to show their
sympathy, not by condolences, but by congratulations. Such was the