part 2 twelve

Swamiji says more about Americans

Swamiji said one day, “The Americans don’t eat much, but how much they take! They will eat one or tow spoonfuls and throw the rest away.
And they eat such a variety! As the people eat, so are they able to work and earn. That is why they live so long and keep well. But how can the Indians live on so little food? On a half or a quarter of stomach full? They have no enthusiasm or perseverance, always depressed and despairing. What little they can do in the world does not occur to them. They have forgotten what strength still remains in them. They see only death ahead, and sit spineless. They have no power to make anything new. To what a frightful state the race has fallen! Will it not die out at last? Often I sit and think of this. And I think about this question of the Americans. Between the two races, what a difference of heaven and hell! One says, ‘By my own power I will slash all the obstacles from my path and proceed,’ and the other says hopelessly. despairingly, ‘What will happen? How can I manage?’ The main reason for this downfall is the wretched diet. Wretchedly they eat, wretched they are; so the race has come to this pass.” We all saw big tears welling from the corners of his eyes. In the effort to express in words his feeling, that feeling had erupted on his face like a volcano. Then we were all overwhelmed by it.
Another day Swamiji said, “How long the Americans live! At eighty or ninety years they work like young people. Those who have become old scarcely remember it. That idea has been completely routed from their mind. The country is free, the people happy, in everything there is zeal. Money, too, comes easily to hand, so they can enjoy life for many years. Death itself seems afraid to come near them. English people too, live long and their bodies are strong and virile; but in what a sorry plight are the Indians, who dies so quickly. Their faces always wear a fearful expression. They look like a shapeless mass, lifeless, without hope or endurance, no zeal for anything and no desire for it, nor for doing anything new. So they soon die. Will they not die out, leaving no trace? What misery! How sad.” The color drained from Swamiji’s face and he fell silent for a long time, sunk in sadness and depression.

Vacation, and Meeting with Paul Deussen

    After some time living in London and giving lectures all the time, and coming in contact with the common people, Swamiji, being very tired and urged by all to go for “a change of air,” decided to do so. In the summer recess he wanted to make a “Continental tour.” Mohendra moved alone to a house in Cambridge Street. Sturdy from time to time used to come and stay in that house. After a few months and an improvement in health, Swamiji returned to London and related various incidents from the Continental tour.
    He spoke of his seeing Deussen and the latter’s special kindness.
He was a scholar specializing in Vedanta and renowned for this, throughout Europe. Such a pandit, and so well-read, yet he was just like a child. His children would be yelling for their breakfast; instead of concerning himself to feed them, he would be engrossed in his Vedantic study. But from Swamiji’s conversation and expression, it was clear that Deussen was fit to be only a student, compared to Swami Vivekananda. Probably his meeting with Swamiji took place before his coming to London. At the time of discussing this with Sturdy, Swamiji expressed his affection for Deussen and gave vent to his own opinions, to which Sturdy assented. The significance of this incident is that such was Swamiji’s extraordinary genius and astonishing power, that even a famous pandit of Germany respectfully bowed before him like a disciple.
    At about this time an incident occurred in Paris which is particularly apropos here. One day Swamiji went with the Duchess de Palma in a hired phaeton from Paris to a suburb for a change of air. Swamiji had studied French and could also converse nicely in it. The Duchess said to him in English, “The coachman of this carriage can converse in excellent polished French.” (Something unexpected of a coachman.) While this conversation was going on, the carriage came to the side of the village road. A maid-servant had brought a little boy and girl out for a walk. The coachman stopped the coach and, coming down, took the children in his lap and kissed and stroked them, and then got back in the driver’s seat. The Duchess de Palma saw with surprised that these were children of gentlefolk, yet this person who was a cabman had fondled them like this. So asked him, “Why did you do that? Those are gentlemen’s children.”
    Said the cabman, stopping and turning back to the Duchess, “They are my children. Have you heard of (Such and such a) Bank in Paris?”
    The Duchess replied, “That was big bank, but it has failed.”
    The coachman said, “I am the manager of that bank. I watched it fail. To pay back the debt will require several years. Now there is the need to have my neck in the grasp of someone else. I have kept my wife and son and daughter in a rented village house. There is just a maid to look after them. With what little I had I bought this phaeton and have taken up driving. I support myself and my family with what I get. But when the debt is paid off, again I will open a bank and be a banker.”
    Swamiji, amazed and delighted at this story, said to us all, “This is what I call a Practical Vedantist. This man has understood the essence of Vedanta. Falling from such an estate to this low condition, he is nonetheless unmoved, steadily going about this work. He is in no way overcome. Thank God for such a power of mind. This man is really a Vedantist.” Swamiji often told the story. I do not remember all he said. There were many other things said about the Continental tour, but I do not recall them now.