The opinions and impressions of the "Hindoo" must have been a rare addition indeed as "the four" viewed every corner of Paris from atop horse-drawn tramcars and omnibuses. There was nothing pertaining to man and his culture in which Swamiji was not intensely interested and very little of which he did not have an extensive and penetrating knowledge. But while he had vast stores of knowledge to give, these days were, as well, a time of observing and learning for him. The European aspect of Western civilization was new to him, and Paris was where he could best feel its pulse. Yet it is not unlikely that in the bustle and crowds of this "capital of modern civilisation" he would now and then take a sip of Ganges water from a small vial.

. . . Last time I went to the West [he was to write several years later during his second visit], I took a little of [the sacred waters of the Ganges] with me, fearing it might be needed, and whenever opportunities occurred I used to drink a few drops of it. And every time I drank, in the midst of the stream of humanity, amid that bustle of civilisation, that hurry of frenzied footsteps of millions of men and women in the West, the mind at once became calm and still, as it were. That stream of men, that intense activity of the West, that clash and competition at every step, those seats of luxury and celestial opulence-Paris, London, New York, Berlin, Rome-all would disappear and I used to hear that wonderful sound of "Hara, Hara", to see that lonely forest on the sides of the Himalayas, and feel the murmuring heavenly river coursing through the heart and brain and every artery of the body and thundering forth, "Hara, Hara, Hara!

At times in this hot city of Paris Swamiji must have longed to plunge into the cold and clear Himalayan Ganges itself. In the nineteenth century, Europeans bathed with even less fre¬quency than Americans; accordingly, even the most elegant of hotels, such as the first-class Hotel Continental, where he and, presumably, his host were staying, had no bathrooms. Of this aspect of Western living he was to write later in his short book Prachya O Paschatya ("The East and the West"):

. . . A millionaire friend of mine once invited me to come over to Paris : Paris, which is the capital of modern civilisation-Paris, the heaven of luxury, fashion, and merriment on earth-the centre of arts and sciences. My friend accommodated me in a huge palatial hotel, where arrangements for meals were in a right royal style, but, for bath-well, no name of it. Two days I suffered silently -till at last I could bear it no longer, and had to address my friend, "Dear brother, let this royal luxury be with you and yours! I am panting of get out of this situation. Such hot weather and no facility of bathing; if it continues like this, I shall be in imminent danger of turning mad like a rabid dog.

Mr. Leggett forthwith sought a hotel with a bathroom. "Twelve of the chief hotels were seen," Swamiji recalled, "but no place for bathing was there in any of them. There are independent bathing houses, where one can go and have a bath for four or five rupees. Good heavens!

But aside from this unpleasant state of affairs, Swamiji evidently enjoyed his stay in Paris. His friends not only took him on omnibus and tram rides and on visits to museums, cathedrals, and churches, but introduced him to their Parisian friends, of whom Mrs. Sturges and Miss MacLeod, no strangers to Paris, had a number. Among them was very probably the Countess of Caithness, or, as she was better known in Europe, the Duchesse de Pomar. There is good reason to think that Swamiji went on a drive into the suburbs with this sixty-five ¬year-old dowager for a change of air, and the most likely way for him to have met her would have been through the MacLeod sisters. Like their close friend Dora Roethlesberger, the countess was devoted to a study of the occult in its various forms, taking dictation from Mary Queen of Scots, with whom she communed at length and whose incarnation she somewhat inconsistently believed herself to be. One reads in an English journal devoted to "spiritualism, religion, and reform," that she was "dis¬tinguished for her unbounded hospitality to the elite of Paris society, and also for her earnest and unwearied devotion Spiritualism, in the promotion of which she was lavish in the expenditure of time, money, and talent."40 And in the same journal of another date: ``Lady Caithness called her palace here Holyrood. It contained the finest hall and concert-room in Paris, where she used to gather her friends and their friends to hear scientific, literary, and religious lectures. . . . One saw there generals Dragomiroff and Annenkoff, . . . Rajas on their way to London; Cardinals who forgave Lady Caithness her heresies, and Protestants of pulpit fame._x000d_ Swamiji could well have been taken for one of the "Rajas on their way to London," but whether or not he attended a reception given by the Duchesse de Pomar we do not know. The only thing about his acquaintance with her that has come down to us is a story of the coachman who drove them into the suburbs.

The S.S. Touraine, a fairly new, deluxe ship of the French Line, Ianded at Le Havre on August 24._x000d_ The seven-day crossing from New York had no doubt been pleasant, for though Swamiji and Francis Leggett were, to be sure, "a strangely assorted pair" (as the latter's daughter-then unborn was to write years later), they were good companions. For one thing, Mr. Leggett, whose interests were ordinarily in hunting, fishing, and business, was on his way to meet his betrothed and was in a state of bliss; he was, moreover, an admirer of Swamiji's "common sense. Thus, in "a strangely assorted" way, the two complemented one another-Swamiji's common sense a balance to Mr. Leggett's transports._x000d_ _x000d_ They took the train to Paris and were no doubt met at the St. Lazare Station by Betty Sturges and her sister, Josephine MacLeod, both of whom had been in France for over a month. The two women had plans for the coming weeks. "We four " Betty Sturges had written to Frank, "will do many things ¬for instance we will take all the tramways on top and see Paris on every corner from that perch. There is so much to be done when we are four, more perhaps than a smaller number because of the exchange of opinions and impressions which with intelligent people is a rare addition to travel and sight¬seeing. So gather up your Hindoo and come as soon as convenient.

On August 17 he and Mr. Leggett sailed from New York .by S. S. Touraine, reaching Paris on the twenty-fourth after a delightful trip. The ocean voyage rested his nerves and brain, which had been exhausted by his strenuous work of nearly two years in America. During his stay of more than a fortnight in Paris, he acquired in his wonted way as much information as possible, asking, studying, and observing. Mrs. Sturges and her sister, Miss MacLeod, both of whom knew Paris well, conducted him on various tours of the city, taking him to its museums, churches, cathedrals, and art galleries. He was pleased to note how artistic instincts were highly developed in the French nation. The tomb of Napoleon and other memorials of that great man, which were scattered everywhere in Paris, filled him with admiration. He was introduced to some of the enlightened friends of his companions and discoursed with them on themes that ranged from the most learned of studies to the highest of spiritual subjects. They became his friends and enjoyed his company, for in himself he combined the historian, philosopher, wit, and engaging conversationalist.

According to Swamiji's brother Mahendra Nath Datta,* who was often to hear Swamiji tell it, the coachman stopped the phaeton by the side of a village road, along which a little boy and girl were walking with a maidservant. The coachman got down from his seat and caressed the children. Then he got back, took up the reins, and proceeded along the road. With amazement, the Duchesse de Pomar asked, "Why did you do that? Those are a gentleman's children!" Turning in his seat, the coachman explained that he had been the manager of a large bank in Paris that had recently failed. With what little money remained to him, he had bought the phaeton and horses and was working to support his wife and children in a rented village house, engaging a maid to look after them. The calmness and dignity of the man deeply impressed Swamiji. Telling of the incident, he would say, "This is what I call a Practical Vedantist. This man has understood the essence of Vedanta. Falling from such a high estate to this low condition, he is nonetheless unmoved. Thank God for such power of mind! This man is really a Vedantist!

Hotel Continental_x000d_ 3 Rue Castiglione, Paris_x000d_ 26th August, 1895_x000d_ Dear Friend {Mr. E.T. Sturdy},_x000d_ I arrived here day before yesterday. I came over to this country as the guest of an American friend who is going to be married here next week. I shall have to stop here with him till that time; and after that I shall be free to come to London._x000d_ Eagerly anticipating the joy of meeting you,_x000d_ Ever yours in Sat,_x000d_ Vivekananda

But though the Swami had come to Paris for recreation, thoughts of his work and mission were never far from his mind. Just before sailing from America he had received a letter from his disciples in India, warning him that missionary activity was strong against him in his native land and that articles and pamphlets were appearing, criticizing his life, his teaching, and his conduct. Evidently the missionaries had been criticizing his eating habits in the West, and some orthodox Hindus, as well as some members of the Brahmo Samaj, who had read such criticism had become opposed to him and had attacked him in strong terms. Naturally he was vexed. On September 9, the day before his departure for London, he wrote to Alasinga from Paris:

This letter shows the Swami as the true sannyasi, free and fearless. He was like another prophet scourging the Pharisees of his own land. Being of little minds, some of the Swami's-countrymen even allowed themselves to take seriously the slanderous statements of those who worked against him with a view to breaking the backbone of the burgeoning Hindu renaissance. Indeed, by this time Christian missionary activity in India against him had reached a high pitch. But he was a strong man, and he could be a strong adversary when necessary. He had to be; for otherwise his religion, his people, his name, and his teachings would have been discredited by malicious opponents. He had literally to fight his way for recognition. _x000d_ And when his character was attacked, he was, for the sake of his teaching, unequivocal in his replies. Sometimes, however, he felt like a child and would weep in solitude, praying to the Mother for protection and for help. On one occasion, during his early days in America, he was actually seen in tears, reading a baseless assertion against his character. When asked .why he wept, he had replied, "Oh! How deep is the wickedness of the world and to what lengths men go, in the name of religion, to cast aspersion upon another worker in God's vineyard!"

C/o Miss MacLeod_x000d_ Hotel Hollande_x000d_ Rue de La Paix_x000d_ Paris_x000d_ 5th September, 1895_x000d_ Dear and Blessed Friend {E. T. Sturdy},_x000d_ It is useless to express my gratitude for your kindness; it is too great for expression. . . . _x000d_ I have a cordial invitation from Miss Muller, and as her place is very near to yours, I think it will be nice to come to her place first for a day or two and then to come over to you._x000d_ My body was very ill for a few days, which caused this delay in writing you._x000d_ Hoping soon for the privilege of mingling hearts and heads together._x000d_ I remain, ever yours in love, and fellowship in the Lord,_x000d_ Vivekananda

Paris_x000d_ 9th September, 1895_x000d_ Dear Alasinga,_x000d_ . . . I am surprised you take so seriously the missionaries' nonsense. If the people in India want me to keep strictly to my Hindu diet, please tell them to send me a cook and money enough to keep him. This silly bossism without a mite of real help makes me laugh. On the other hand, if the missionaries tell you that I have ever broken the two great vows of the Sannyasin--chastity and poverty--tell them that they are big liars. Please write to the missionary Hume asking him categorically to write you what misdemeanour he saw in me, or give you the names of his informants, and whether the information was first-hand or not, that will settle the question and expose the whole thing. . . ._x000d_ As for me, mind you, I stand at nobody's dictation. I know my mission in life, and no chauvinism about me; I belong as much to India as to the world, no humbug about that. I have helped you all I could. You must now help yourselves. What country has any special claim on me? Am I any nation's slave? Don't talk any more silly nonsense, you faithless atheists._x000d_ I have worked hard and sent all the money I got to Calcutta and Madras, and then after doing all this, stand their silly dictation! Are you not ashamed? What do I owe to them? Do I care a fig for their praise or fear their blame? I am a singular man, my son, not even you can understand me yet. Do your work; if you cannot, stop; but do not try to "boss" me with your nonsense. I see a greater Power than man, or God, or devil at my back. I require nobody's help. I have been all my life helping others. . . . They cannot raise a few rupees to help the work of the greatest man their country every produced--Ramakrishna Paramahamsa; and they talk nonsense and want to dictate to the man for whom they did nothing, and who did everything he could for them! Such is the ungrateful world!_x000d_ Do you mean to say I am born to live and die one of those caste-ridden, superstitious, merciless, hypocritical, atheistic cowards that you find only amongst the educated Hindus? I hate cowardice; I will have nothing to do with cowards or political nonsense. I do not believe in any politics. God and truth are the only politics in the world, everything else is trash._x000d_ I am going to London tomorrow. . . ._x000d_ Yours with blessings,_x000d_ Vivekananda

After a little over two weeks of sightseeing and, perhaps, of conversing with the philosophers, scientists, cardinals., and ministers of the Duchesse de Pomar's circle, Swamiji witnessed the marriage of Francis Leggett and Besse (or Betty) Sturges, which took place on Monday, September 9, at the American Cathedral (the Episcopal Church of the Holy Trinity), said to be "the most beautiful example of English Gothic on the Continent." This being the second marriage for both bride and groom, the ceremony was perhaps performed in the small vaulted chapel of the cathedral-the Chapel of St. Paul, the Traveler. There were perhaps not many witnesses--just Swamiji, a few friends, and Alberta and Hollister Sturges, Betty's children, who were attending school in Germany and had been brought to Paris for the occasion by Mr. Leggett's special courier._x000d_ Among the wedding guests may have been the young artist Maud Stumm, who was to give Swamiji drawing lessons four years later at Ridgely Manor. She met him now for the first time in the living room of the MacLeod sisters' suite at the Hotel de Hollande.

It was in the fall of '95 that I first saw him, sitting with his back to the light in Mrs. Leggett's sitting room in Paris.* I did not catch his name, but presently found myself next to him, and being asked if I spoke French. He said he didn't either; when I asked him if in his opinion English would be the next dominant language of the world-as they seemed to be the coming race-"The next great leading force on earth will be the Tartars or the Negroes"-was his astonishing reply; and he proceeded to give his reasons. I found that he dealt not with decades or even centuries but with vast ages and movements of races, as judged by his knowledge of the past._x000d_ _x000d_ Then I inquired who this deep-voiced man was, and was told he was a holy man from the East, Swami Vivek¬ananda._x000d_ _x000d_ A holy man, yes, and much more-a vast, fully awake being who took in the unfolding centuries and races at a glance. "Mon Prince," Mr. Leggett's courier used to address him. "I am no prince," Swamiji told him, "I am a penniless monk. But the man was not to be put off. "I have traveled with too many princes," he replied; "I know one when I see one!"_x000d_  He was right, of course; nor was he alone in recognizing nobility when he saw it. "There were but two celebrated personages whom I have met," Mrs. Leggett was to say later, "who could make one feel perfectly at ease without themselves for an instant losing their own dignity-one was the German Emperor, the other, Swami Vivekananda. It is, actually, small wonder that Swamiji had the bearing of a prince; he walked in the majesty of his mission. On the day of the wedding he wrote to Alasinga, "I am a singular man, my son; not even you can understand me yet. . . . I see a greater Power than man, or God, or devil at my back. A prince indeed, and this by' divine right._x000d_ _x000d_ * In his article "Swami Vivekananda in France" (Prabuddha Bharata, March 1967, page 127) Swami Vidyatmananda suggests that this meeting "took place on September 9, after the wedding, since before that day Mrs. Leggett was Mrs. Sturges; and Swami Vivekananda went to London the following day, the 10th." It is perhaps reasonable to assume that the occasion was the wedding reception.