Among the many guests and teachers from the West visiting Rabindranath Tagore’s open-air university, Visva-Bharati, was the French intellectual and author Sylvain Lévi (1863-1935), who specialised in Oriental studies.

Like many others, Lévi was drawn by the poet’s idea of an institution in the lap of nature, for it held the promise of broadening vision and the cross-pollination of cultures. He taught Sanskrit and Indian religions at the École Pratique des Hautes Études and is remembered for his dictionary of Buddhism. Another work that is of importance to Indians is The Indian Theatre, his dissertation of 1890.

After his appointment as professor at the Collège de France (1894–1935), considered France’s most prestigious research establishment, he toured India and Japan (1897 and 1898). As an outcome of his travels, he published The Doctrine of Sacrifice in the Brāhmanas in 1898, followed by Nepal: Historical Study of a Hindu Kingdom (1905–08), and India and the World (1926), in which he discussed India’s role among nations.

Rabindranath had invited Lévi and his wife, Désirée (1867-1943), to join Visva-Bharati when he visited Paris in 1920-21, and the invitation was readily accepted. Sylvain Lévi and Désirée were present at the inaugural ceremony of Visva-Bharati in 1921.

Lévi was the first visiting professor at the university. During their stay in Santiniketan from November 1921 to August 1922, Lévi taught French, Chinese, and Tibetan languages, while Désirée taught a course in the French language.

Désirée’s book, originally titled Dans l’Inde: de Ceylan au Népal, and published in 1925, is a compilation of edited versions of her letters to various individuals written during her travels across Asia with her husband in 1921-22. Rob Aft’s is possibly the first English translation of her book.

An empathetic personal account

It is a personal account and presents a perspicacious and colourful picture of those times written by someone who kept her eyes and ears open, even though she preferred to remain in the background. It was her empathy with the people of the countries she visited that distinguishes her account from the racism and condescension, often taken to cruel and absurd lengths, that was the order of the day.

Pratapaditya Pal’s epilogue is packed with information on the genesis of this book and the milieu in which Désirée wrote it.

Nandadulal De, who was a lecturer in French at Visva-Bharati, had published a Bengali translation of the book, although its title, Madam Levir Diary, is a misnomer. The book is more of a first-person epistolary travelogue. This valuable document is out of print. De had written that Indira Debi, Rabindranath’s learned niece, had earlier translated it into Bengali. It never saw the light of day

Désirée was overshadowed by the towering scholarship of her husband; she is not mentioned by name in Visva-Bharati’s online entry on Sylvain Lévi. Yet, as Pal points out, her “motherly behaviour” was a deciding factor in Rabindranath extending his invitation to both the Lévis to Santiniketan. Her account was used “extensively to reconstruct the early days” of Rabindranath’s dream university.

The widely travelled US-based Aft has, by his own admission, studied French literature and worked as a literary translator in Paris. He is an indefatigable photographer as well and is a film and TV finance and distribution expert. He has used some of his relevant photographs in this book. The clarity and vividness of Aft’s translation make the book eminently readable. Even more so as we can almost hear Désirée speaking her mind. More than the metropolises, Désirée was profoundly impressed by the bounty of nature that India was blessed with.

The title of Aft’s book echoes In India, which is the title of William Marchant’s English translation of André Chevrillon’s travelogue published in 1896. Chevrillon (1864–1957) was a writer, critic, and member of the French Academy. Both books provide vivid insights into life in 19th century India, although Chevrillon’s rabid racism is a foil for Désirée’s open-mindedness. Chevrillon was awestruck by the Ellora Kailasa temples carved out of a granite hill, yet the dark-skinned races did not rise in his esteem.

Not that it matters, but the preposterousness of it leaves one dumbstruck. Jyotirindranath Tagore, Rabindranath’s elder brother, had selectively translated the book into a free-range Bengali.

Both books have certain things in common. For example, both Chevrillon earlier, and the Lévis later, initially followed the same sea route, via Ceylon (Sri Lanka), and both visited the cities of Calcutta (Kolkata) and Bombay (Mumbai), the point of departure being the Lévis’ sojourns in Santiniketan and Nepal.

Interestingly, for both writers India seems to have been synonymous with Hindus. Islam and Muslims did not seem to exist for them.

Désirée was predictably bedazzled by the Taj Mahal. She wanted to meet the reigning queen of Bhopal, but Moharram got in the way. And there ends a tale. Chevrillon was obsessed with the pullulating and chattering Hindu masses, and body-shaming Brahmans may have been his favourite pastime, but Muslims he rarely mentioned. Both French nationals were intensely aware of the heat. Désirée felt warm when they arrived at Santiniketan in November!

Gentle though she was, she was a keen observer of life around her, including the despatch of night soil every morning and the heartlessness of the exclusionary Hindu caste system. Both Désirée and Chevrillon were overwhelmed by the abundance of ornamentation on the temples, although Désirée explained: “…underneath all this chaos, you can see order, a balance…”

Like the Hungarian artist mother-daughter duo—Elizabeth Sass Brunner and Elizabeth Brunner—who visited Santiniketan in 1930, Désirée was in thrall of Rabindranath’s captivating image

Désirée enjoyed the privilege of visiting the zenanas of their hosts and offers fascinating glimpses of opulent and claustrophobic interiors crowded with bedizened women. They were quite unlike the women she met at Santiniketan and the Tagore seat in Jorasanko, who enjoyed freedom. Genial though she was, her sense of humour sparkles when she contrasts the dhoti-clad “Dinabandhu” Andrews with his “good-natured face” and the Bishop of Assam: “Mylord is a terrible devil, dressed head to toe in black….” In the chapter on “The Jews of Calcutta”, she describes an Italian restaurant: “…music, women in low-cut dresses, very flirty, whisky and soda;…”

Unlike many visitors from the West, Désirée took considerable interest in the prevailing nationalist movements that often turned violent. Her sympathy lay entirely with the Indians, for she was intensely moved by the crushing poverty of the toiling masses. Brief though they are, her reports of the agitation are quite moving.

Désirée was deeply aware of the differences between Gandhi and Rabindranath in their attitude towards Western civilisation, although she respected both personalities. “For Gandhi, the happiness of India depends on forgetting, rejecting all the lessons the West has taught…. For Tagore… it is his most ardent wish… that there be a direct collaboration between the two worlds.…”

E.O. Hoppé’s photographs give readers an impression of what Santiniketan looked like when the Lévis were visitors. The photographer of the Lévis in Indian clothes is unknown. Désirée had, in her typical self-effacing manner, described her account as a “grandmother’s tales”. Little did she realise its value as a first-hand account of Santiniketan in its early days. If only she could witness what her husband had described as an “abode of unparallel peace” has turned into.

Soumitra Das is a freelance journalist based in Kolkata.

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