disciples and his own disciples, he left Calcutta, and he was joined later by the Seviers,
Miss Müller, and Goodwin.
In Lucknow he was given a cordial welcome. The sight of the Himalayas in Almora
brought him inner peace and filled his mind with the spirit of detachment and
exaltation of which these great mountains are the symbol. But his peace was disturbed
for a moment when he received letters from American disciples about the malicious
reports against his character spread by Christian missionaries, including Dr. Barrows of
the Parliament of Religions in Chicago. Evidently they had become jealous of the
Swami's popularity in India. Dr. Barrows told the Americans that the report of the
Swami's reception in India was greatly exaggerated. He accused the Swami of being a
liar and remarked: "I could never tell whether to take him seriously or not. He struck
me as being a Hindu Mark Twain. He is a man of genius and has some following,
though only temporary."
The Swami was grieved. At his request the people of Madras had given Dr. Barrows a
big reception, but the missionary, lacking religious universalism, had not made much
of an impression.
In a mood of weariness the Swami wrote to a friend on June 3, 1897:
As for myself, I am quite content. I have roused a good many of our people, and that
was all I wanted. Let things have their course and karma its sway. I have no bonds here
below. I have seen life, and it is all self — life is for self, love is for self, honour for
self, everything for self. I look back and scarcely find any action I have done for self
— even my wicked deeds were not for self. So I am content — not that I feel I have
done anything especially good or great, but the world is so little, life so mean a thing,
existence so, so servile, that I wonder and smile that human beings, rational souls,
should be running after this self — so mean and detestable a prize.
This is the truth. We are caught in a trap, and the sooner one gets out the better for one.
I have seen the truth — let the body float up or down, who cares?...
I was born for the life of a scholar — retired, quiet, poring over my books. But the
Mother dispensed otherwise. Yet the tendency is there.
In Almora the Swamiji's health improved greatly. On May 29 he wrote to a friend: 'I
began to take a lot of exercise on horseback, both morning and evening. Since then I
have been very much better indeed....I really began to feel that it was a pleasure to
have a body. Every movement made me conscious of strength — every movement of
the muscles was pleasurable....You ought to see me, Doctor, when I sit meditating in
front of the beautiful snow-peaks and repeat from the Upanishads: "He has neither
disease, nor decay, nor death; for verily, he has obtained a body full of the fire of
yoga."'
He was delighted to get the report that his disciples and spiritual brothers were