SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1893
THE HINDUS AT THE FAIR.
Some Interesting Personalities at the Parliament of Religions—Plain Talk of Leading Heathens,
[Special Correspondence of the Transcript.]
Chicago. Sept. 23.1893
There is a room at the left of the entrance to the Art Palace marked “No. 1—keep out.’’ To this the speakers at the Congress of Religions all repair sooner or later, either to talk with one another or with President Bonney, whose private office is in one corner of the apartment. The folding doors are jealously guarded from the general public, usually standing far enough apart to allow peeping in. Only delegates are supposed to penetrate the sacred precincts, but it is not impossible to obtain an “open sesame,’’ and thus to enjoy a brief opportunity of closer relations with the distinguished guests than the platform in the Hall of Columbus affords.
The most striking figure one meets in this ante-room is Swami Vivekananda, the Brahmin monk. He is a large, well-built man with the superb carriage of the Hindustanis his face clean shaven, squarely moulded regular features, white teeth, and with well- chiselled lips that are usually parted in a benevolent smile while he is conversing. His finely poised head is crowned with either a lemon colored or a red turban, and his cassock (not the technical name for this garment}, belted in at the waist and falling below the knees, alternates in a bright orange and a rich crimson. He speaks excellent English and replies readily to any questions asked in sincerity.
Along with his simplicity of manner there is a touch of personal reserve when speaking to ladies, which suggests his chosen vocation. When questioned about the laws of his order, he has said, “I can do as I please. I am independent. Sometimes I live in the Himalaya Mountains, and sometimes in the streets of cities. I never know where I will get my next meal. I never keep money with me. I come here by subscription.” Then looking round at one or two of this fellow-countrymen who chanced to be standing near be added, They will take care of me,” giving the inference that his board bill in Chicago is attended to by others. When asked if he was wearing his usual monk’s costume, he said, “This is a good dress; when I am at home I am in rags, and I go barefooted. Do I believe in caste? Caste is a social custom ; religion has nothing to do with it; all castes will associate with me.”
It is quite apparent, however, from the deportment. the general appearance, of Mr. Vivekananda that he was born among high caste—years of voluntary poverty and homeless wanderings have not robbed him of his birthright of gentleman; even his family name is unknown ; he took that of Vivekananda in embracing a religious career, and “Swami” is merely the title of reverend accorded to him. He cannot be far along in the thirties, and looks as if made for this life and its fruition, as well as for meditation on the life beyond. One cannot help wondering what could have been the turning point with him.
“Why should I marry,’’ was his abrupt response to a comment on all he had renounced in becoming a monk, “when I see in every woman only the divine Mother? Why do I make all these sacrifices? To emancipate myself from earthly ties and attachments so that there will be no re-birth for me. When I die I want to become at once absorbed in the divine, one with God. I would be a Buddha.”
Vivekananda does not mean by this that he is a Buddhist. No name or sect can label him. He is an outcome of the higher Brahminism, a product of the Hindu spirit, which is vast, dreamy, self-extinguishing, a Sanyasi holy man.
He has some pamphlets that he distributes, relating to his master, Paramhansa Ramkrishna, a Hindu devotee, who his impressed his hearers and pupils that many of them became ascetics after his death. Mozoomdar also looked upon this saint as his master, but Mozoomdar works for holiness in the world, in it but not of it, as Jesus taught.
Vivekananda’s address before the parliament was broad as the heavens above us, enbracing the best in all religions, as the ultimate universal religion—charity to all mankind, good works for the love of God, not for fear of punishment or hope of reward. He is a great favorite at the parliament, from the grandeur of his sentiments and his appearance as well. If he merely crosses the platform he is applauded, and this marked approval of thousands he accepts in a childlike spirit of gratification, without a trace of conceit. It must be a strange experience too for this humble young Brahmin monk, this sudden transition from poverty and self-effacement to affluence and aggrandizement. When asked if he knew anything of those brothers in the Himalayas so firmly believed in by the Theosophists, he answered with the simple statement, “I have never met one of them,” as much as to imply, “There may be such persons, but though I am at home in the Himalayas, I have yet to come across them.”
Another Brahmin at the parliament, representing a younger school of Hinduism, the Veishniva, is often seen in the ante-room, leaning with graceful abandon on the table in the centre of the room, bis bright boyish face lighting up as he freely airs his opinions upon the Indian civilization and ours. His costume is usually all white, topped with a voluminous turban. This is Nara Sima Chari of Madras, “an itinerant Hindu.” as he laughingly styles himself.
I had a very entertaining conversation with Mr. Nara Sima one day lately, Mr. Lakshmi Narain, a barrister from Lahore, India, and Professor Merwin Snell of Washington, D. C., being also in the group.
“I am tired of everything,” said Nara Sima frankly, “no new’ sensation is possible to me; I am heartily disgusted with the life I have led in the world, I long now to try exactly the reverse of what I have done before, and go out into the woods alone. I must conquer myself, subdue the senses; it will be hard I know, that is the trouble. You say I will give it up in a week—perhaps so; but I can try again afterwards. I want to be a holy man, to give up everything.”
“What good will it do anyone?”
“That is not the question. Each man must elevate himself, nobody else can elevate him. It is not good or evil, but indifference to all earthly things that I am seeking.”
When it was suggested that active benevolence and work for others might have a diverting effect, cure his ennui, he repelled action with the Hindu ideal of total detachment as the highest aim.
“I would go out into the woods from here,” he went on to say, “but the climate near Chicago would be too cold. I think I will try it farther south, somewhere in Central America.”
“You may encounter wild beasts in your solitude.”
“I will take my rifle.”
“Then you do kill animals?”
“Yes, if they came at me I should not hesitate, in self defence ; not to eat—bah! I have eaten meat sometimes since I came here, the first time I tried it it made me positively sick, actually I ruined a good suit of clothes. Have I lost caste since I came? Oh yes! but I can easily get it back, and I shall do it at once if I return. There is no fun in being without it. When I came to America I had the caste mark on my forehead, and I wore the cord of the Brahmins, but it got worn out and I did not known where to find some more like it. You have caste too, and it is worse than ours, the caste of wealth. I have never been in a place where there was not caste of some kind.”
Mr. Nara Sima’s manners were naive and pleasing, but his views on the subject of Hindu widows were the antipodes of Pundita Ramabai’s. “Why should n’t they burn themselves if they want to? For my part I wish the English had n’t stopped them. Why? Because then there wouldn’t be so many widows. I don’t see why a woman should be prevented from burning herself with the body of her husband if she thinks it will make both herself and him happy forever in another world.”
Mr. Lakshmi Narain of Lahore and Professor Snell of Washington, both claiming to be impartial students of comparative religion, both subscribed to this startling theory that it was an injury to human rights to prevent a person from inflicting an injury upon him or herself for conscience’ sake.
“Of course, a widow ought not to be forced to do such a thing,” continued Mr. Nara Sima, “and she never was. “The act was purely voluntary. She was not persecuted if she refused to burn herself, unless she was a coward, and drew back after she offered to do it at the first touch of the flames. It did n’t hurt her long; she was soon suffocated; the pain was only for a few moments.” He shrugged bis shoulders nonchalantly, as if alluding to a mere trifle like vaccination. “No, I would n’t pull anybody out of the fire here or anywhere else who wanted to be burned.”
“How would you like to be burned with your dead wife?” was a question naturally put next.
“The rule holds good both ways. The right of the man and the woman is equal, but the men don’t want to burn themselves and the women do. That is all the difference.”
On being asked if it was treo that widows in India were allowed only one cooked meal a dav, be said that he had known hundreds of widows, and they could eat not only three, but four or five meals a day if they chose, that such a law existed; but foreigners were apt to catch at a rule without reporting, often not knowing, the counteracting customs which operate to make it a dead letter. On appealing for confirmation to the gentleman from Lahore, the latter differed with him, and declared gravely that in the north of India, where he lived, the rule of one meal a day of cooked food for widows was much more rigidly adhered to.
“We hear a great deal about the condition of woman in Ind.a,” Mr. Nara Sima went on to say. “It is all nonsense. I have seen as many henpecked husbands in India as any where else.”
We all laughed at the universality of this acme of civilization, the henpecked husband ; and one remark leading to another some one ventured to suggest to the blast young Hindu that to form a serious attachment for a woman might be the very best remedy for his present state of mind, and prevent the catastrophe of his betaking himself to the woods.
“Ah, that would spoil everything!’’ he protested, with another vehement gesture.
An entirely different personality is the secretary of the Jain association, the only representative at the parliament of that historic faith, which is the oldest in India. Mr. Virchand M. Gandhi wears the European dress, with • nly the national turban in distinction from the hideous hat of our predilection. He has a refined and intellectual countenance, a bright eye. and something in his manner that suggests cosmopolitan influences, or it may be because the Jains Lave less restrictive social customs than other Hindus. Mr. Gandhi says the Jain women are free to go about as they wish. “Mv wife goes everywhere with me,” he added, “when I am at home; but freedom may extend too far when it comes to female suffrage, as with you.”
This gentleman too, is a vegetarian. “I have never tasted meat in my life!” he remarked, “and cannot bear even to sit at table with those who eat meat. On the steamer coming over I ate only fruit. I am staying with Dr. Barrows (the chairman of the congress), and he gives me vegetable food. Since I have been in America I have been able to see that no one diet will answer for universal use, and I think it will be some time yet before man can have a universal religion.”
On being asked if according to the Jain religion which teaches the law of cause and effect, but cannot find a reason for the existence of a God, he could hope for future reunion with the beloved dead, his fa. e became very thoughtful as he replied to this query of all peoples in all ages:
“We may meet them.” he answered after pondering a moment, but we must look be- yond the personal love and satisfaction.”
Kinze Binge Herai, the Buddhist monk and Japanese orator who made such a sensation on the third day of the congress by announcing his opposition to the false brand of Christianity unhappily in vogue in foreign lands as at home, proves on further acquaintance to be one of the loveliest souls among the pilgrims ; there is no satire or ridicule,not a false note in him. Meeting him in the ball or the reception-room he is ever ready to offer a more prolonged explanation of his faith or of Japanese traditions and customs. Every afternoon he takes the trouble to go to a room up stairs for this special purpose, and there such a crowd soon gathers about him as only a patient, courteous Oriental could endure. His courtesy is absolutely invuluerable, no argument can provoke him into an irritable, rejoinder; it is to be deplored that some of our own religionists—no, it is better to call them theologians—do not learn a lesson of him. After he had been kept talking nearly two hours one afternoon this week, hemmed in by a human wall plying him with all sorts of queries, a fierce head thrust itself over the rest, bounded by a clerical necktie, and in a tone of distinct opposition, proceeded to prod Mr. Herai with questions about the atonement, Heaven and hell, in the evangelical sense, until the cultured young monk had to bring all his knowledge of English and of the distinctions of sectarian Christendom to bear in order to comprehend the meaning of his over-zealous antagonist.
“Oh, you don’t know what you are talking about!” cried the latter excitedly. “I ’m sorry for you. What am I to do to save my soul? I want to save my soul. Those ladies need n’t laugh. What sort of a god is yours, I’d like to know”—and more that it is impossible to recall.
“You do not understand my heart,” was all the rebuke the gentie high-minded Japanese administered, with a tolerant smile. And he went on to speak of the Buddhist conception of God as truth, infinite, all-pervading, formless, present in every man and woman, every animal, insect, grain of sand. The Orthodox minister left the room.
Mr. Herai declares that he feels no opposition to real Christianity or its spread among his people, if they are made better by it; he could only wish that they would adopt a more liberal Christianity that would refrain from putting itself in opposition with the national life and customs of Japan.
The sombre costume of black and gray worn by this gentleman at the Parliament when he delivered his memorable address was not his priestly dress; that, he tells us, is of rich materials and bright coloring. The Japanese are prone to adopt our dress, he says, because it is more economical. We were glad to hear that his going to live and serve at the temple did not involve entire separation from his family. “My parents are still living,” he explained; “it is right, of course, that I should visit them.” Nothing, it will be seen, is put above filial duty in Japan.
Mr. H. Dharmapala of Ceylon is one of the most picturesque of the Asiatics—his figure is so erect, his robes so white, so gracefully worn, his dark face so instinct with purity and goodness. He has an image of Buddha which he sometimes places in a chair by his side while addressing the Parliament. “There is that blessed image,” he said to me, pointing to it as it stood in President Bonney’s private sanctum, “what a beautiful expression it has!” It is scarcely necessary to add that Mr. Dharmapala, priest of the Ceylon temple, is not an idolater, he only uses the image of Lis master as the Greek and Roman Catholics use the crucifix and pictures of their saints.
These Orientals are all repelled by the idea of a salaried clergy.
The Syrian archimandrite, attired In a loose black cassock, his long wavy black hair parted in the middle, also frequents No. 1. He is a Christian pilgrim who never uses money.
It may be stated of the Hindus, the Japanese also, as a rule, that they will concede nothing to us in the conception of a religion of a Supreme Being, a moral order of cause and effect; they are persuaded that they have plenty of religion at home already. What they do credit us with is a greater power of organization, more system, better developed schemes and ideas of labor, practical achievement, and they are glad to learn these things from us.
In the spirit brought to the congress it is noticeable that we are more receptive of their broad axioms of divine fatherhood and human brotherhood, the divine in the human, than they are of our defined and crystallized doctr.nes. They seem to have ample room for Christianity in their pantheon of religious interpretations, multitudinous as they are, if it will consent to occupy a niche therein and forbear to attempt the overthrow of their own ancient cults.
Bishop Keane, rector of the Catholic University at Washington, publicly’ thanked the foreign visitors for their criticism of Christian methods of c’ everting their countrymen, declaring that he was utterly opposed to drawing in the starving poor and outcasts on con- dition of their accepting a strange religion; also that he hoped these critics would go on and sting us into practising what we preach, and help us to see ourselves as others see us.
Yesterday afternoon’s session was most significant, the subject being foreign mission, the platform holding a number of well-known missionary workers. Two of the Hindus, Mr. Dharmapala and Mr. Nara Sima, told them and the audience in plain terms the causes why in their opinion Christian effort had not accomplished more in foreign lands. The upshot of their remarks was that the people In those lands want more bread and less preaching, less taking the sword in one hand and the Bible in the other, as England has done, less interference with caste, less insistence upon meat diet.
“If miss onaries want to make Christianity a force in the East,” said Dharmapala with resistless eloquence, “let them come in the spirit of the lowly Jesus of Nazareth and thev will always be welcome.”
Nara Sima thought that In addition to other obstacles the doctrine of vicarious atonement bad no meaning to the Hindu mind and would always be a stumbling block.
The missionaries held up their end of the argument well also. It was an epoch-making hour that could bring such opposing elements together on one friendly platform.
Dr. George Post of Beirut. Syria, completely refuted Muhammed Russell Alexander Webb’s statement of the previous day that the morals of Islam were equal to those of any other creed. This he did by reading Certain selections from the Koran that Inculcates morals so loose in the matter of wifetaking and divorcing that even the inhabitants of Chicano and New York slum? would have a higher ideal, though they might not be living up to it.
Some of the Chicago papers, in their desire for a sensational heading, have exaggerated the demonstration made against Mohammed Webb of New York, the new convert to Islam, when from under his red fez he announced that while polygamy would be a curse in America, there were times, countries and circumstances in which it might be a benefit. The statement was an extraordinary one, and the whole audience was out of sympathy with it, but there was desire for fair play also that was opposed to the cries of “No!” and “Shame!” from Rev. Joseph Cook and a few others. Mr. Webb had been invited to express his views and must not be insulted while doing so. When Dr. Barrows introduced him he had remarked that this was the first time Islam had ever been expounded to an American audience by one of its professors, and that for his part he was glad the time had come when a man was free to stand up and express the faith of his heart. That it is the faith of Mr. Webb’s heart for the time being no one can doubt who hears him plead its cause. He has the face of a visionary enthusiast, and is off his balance when he predicts that Islam is to be the national religion of America. Fancy our free, busy, practical people submitting to the slavish formalism of five stated daily periods for prayer, popping up and down in the stock market or wherever they may be, and one of these periods to be at the rising of the sun! The five preliminary ablutions would doubtless beau advantage to the great unwashed, as he says; but even polygamy would suit iheir taste better, although Mr. Webb insists that it is not an ingredient of Mohammedanism proper.
All the ramifications of this Congress, the talks in the halls, the discussions in the siderooms, the results of acquaintance made in boarding-houses, the light thrown on previous mysteries of foreign life can never find their way into print. The regular sessions are more and more popular, mure densely crowded as they near the close. Next week all will beadream of the past. Let us at least try to retain this much of the Parliament of Religions for our future use and daily experience, that “faith and hope are the paths that lead to the mountain of the one God, and those who get to the mountain-top all see the same moon.”
(Miss) Frances Albert Doughty.