admirer of the Swami during his American trip. Miss Müller, who knew the Swami in
both England and America and had helped defray, together with the Seviers and Mr.
Sturdy, the expenses of his work in England, had come to India to organize an
educational institution for Indian women.
Miss MacLeod had attended Swami Vivekananda's classes in New York, and for
months at a time he had been the guest of her relatives at their country home, Ridgely
Manor. She became his lifelong friend and admirer and cherished his memory till the
last day of her life, but though she was devoted to him, she never renounced her
independence nor did he demand that she should. By way of spiritual instruction, the
Swami had once asked Miss MacLeod to meditate on Om for a week and report to him
afterwards. When the teacher inquired how she felt, she said that 'it was like a glow in
the heart.' He encouraged her and said: 'Good, keep on.' Many years later she told her
friends that the Swami made her realize that she was in eternity. 'Always remember,'
the Swami had admonished her, 'you are incidentally an American and a woman, but
always a child of God. Tell yourself day and night who you are. Never forget it.' To her
brother-in-law, Francis H. Leggett, the Swami had written, on July 16, 1896, in
appreciation of Miss MacLeod: 'I simply admire Joe Joe in her tact and quiet ways. She
is a feminine statesman. She could wield a kingdom. I have seldom seen such strong
yet good common sense in a human being.'
When Miss MacLeod asked the Swami's permission to come to India, he wrote on a
postcard: 'Do come by all means, only you must remember this: The Europeans and
Indians live as oil and water. Even to speak of living with the natives is damning, even
at the capitals. You will have to bear with people who wear only a loin-cloth; you will
see me with only a loin-cloth about me. Dirt and filth everywhere, and brown people.
But you will have plenty of men to talk philosophy to you.' He also wrote to her that
she must not come to India if she expected anything else, for the Indians could not
'bear one more word of criticism'.
On one occasion, while travelling in Kashmir with the Swami and his party, she
happened to make a laughing remark about one of his South Indian disciples with the
caste-mark of the brahmins of his sect on his forehead. This appeared grotesque to her.
The Swami turned upon her 'like a lion, withered her with a glance, and cried: "Hands
off! Who are you? What have you ever done?"'
Miss MacLeod was crestfallen. But later she learnt that the same poor brahmin had
been one of those who, by begging, had collected the money that had made it possible
for the Swami to undertake his trip to America.
'How can I best help you,' she asked the Swami when she arrived in India. 'Love India,'
was his reply.
One day Swami Vivekananda told Miss MacLeod that since his return to India he had
had no personal money. She at once promised to pay him fifty dollars a month as long
as he lived and immediately gave him three hundred dollars for six months in advance.
The Swami asked jokingly if it would be enough for him. 'Not if you take heavy cream