THE PARLIAMENT OF RELIGIONS

The World’s Parliament of Religions, which was held in the City of Chicago in September 1893, was undoubtedly one of the greatest events in the history of the world marking an era in the history of religions, especially of Hinduism. Its full significance can be cognised only with the lapse of time. From all parts of the world delegates came, representing every form of organised religious belief. It was not only a Parliament of Religions ; it was a parliament of humanity. If it had done nothing else than to make the whole body of human society aware by contrast of its “Unity in Diversity” and “Diversity in Unity” of the religious outlook, it would still have been unequalled among the world’s conventions in character and importance. It unified the religious vision of humanity, which was the motive of the unprejudiced workers who made possible this ensemble of religious ideas and creeds. But it did far more than that. It roused a wave of new thought in the Western world, causing it to be conscious of the East, and its contrasting thought. In the language of the Hon. Mr. Merwin-Marie Snell, President of the Scientific Section of the Parliament of Religions:

“One of its chief advantages has been in the great lesson which it has taught the Christian World, especially to the people of the United States, namely, that there are other religions more venerable than Christianity, which surpass it in philosophical depth, in spiritual intensity, in independent vigour of thought, and in breadth and sincerity of human sympathy, while not yielding to it a single hair’s breadth in ethical beauty and efficiency. Eight great non-Christian religious groups were represented in its deliberations—Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, Judaism, Confucianism, Shintoism, Mohammedanism and Mazdaism.”

Some of the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries in America had preached the necessity and the advantages of such a Parliament for some time ; and when the Chicago World’s Fair was organised, it seemed to be the proper medium and opportunity.

News of the fact that the Parliament was to be held was heralded broadcast to all parts of the globe. Committees of various characters were formed to organise it on a proper basis, and invitations were sent out to the heads or to the executive bodies of all acknowledged religious organisations the world over. Stipulations were made and instructions given ; and the process of sending delegates mapped out. Every religious creed was to send its own delegate or delegates as the case might be, and reception committees were to receive them on their arrival in Chicago. There were many necessary formalities to be observed in order to systematise the movement. Unfortunately, the group of disciples who had sent the Swami as a representative of Hinduism to the Parliament were unaware of these. They had simply seen the worth of the man and his ideas ; and they had felt sure that he could introduce himself, as, in one sense, he did.

If one could visualise the Parliament of Religions, one would see a great concourse of some of the most distinguished personages of the world ; a great mass of humanity, varying from seven to ten thousand in number marching in almost military formation to their seats and joining the sessions of the Parliament. Many of the greatest philosophers of the world were in daily attendance. More than one thousand papers were read by the different delegates. This gives some impression of the vastness of the undertaking and also of its vast importance. In connection with the Parliament, there were sections, one of which was the Scientific Section, which we mention in particular because the Swami spoke several times before it. The Hon. Mr. Merwin-Marie Snell, who presided over it, became a great friend of the Swami and an ardent advocate of Hinduism.

A noted American writer, speaking of the Parliament of Religions and of Swami Vivekananda, says:

“Prior to the Convention of the Parliament of Religions, adjunct to the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, which was convened in Chicago, little was known of Vivekananda in this country. On that auspicious occasion, however, he appeared in all his magnificent grandeur. It was on Monday, September 11th, at 10 a.m. when the opening address was delivered at the Art Institute, Chicago, by Dr. Barrows, from whence the following few words:    ‘Since faith in a Divine Power, to whom men believe they owe service and worship, has been like the sun, a life-giving and fructifying potency in man’s intellectual and moral development; since religion lies back of Hindu literature with its marvellous and mystic developments of European arts, it did not appear that religion any more than education, art, or electricity should be excluded from the Columbian Exposition.’

“On that memorable Monday morning there sat upon the platform of the great Hall of Columbus representatives of the religious hopes and beliefs of twelve hundred millions of the human race. It was indeed impressive. In the centre sat Cardinal Gibbons, highest prelate of the Roman Catholic Church on the Western Continent. He was seated upon a Chair of State and opened the meeting with prayer. On the right and left of him were gathered the Oriental delegates, whose brilliant atLirc vied with his own scarlet robes in brilliancy. Conspicuous among the followers of Brahma, Buddha and Mohammed was an eloquent monk from India, Vivekananda by name. He was clad in gorgeous red apparel and wore a large yellow turban, his remarkably fine features and bronze complexion standing out prominently in the great throng. Beside him sat Nagarkar of the Brahmo Samaj. representative of the Hindu Thcists ; next, was Dharmapala, Ceylon’s Buddhist representative ; next came Mazoomdar, leader of the Thcists in India. Amongst the world’s choicest divines these and many more, whose names would be more or less familiar, must be left out for want of space. This will suffice to show the setting with which our subject was surrounded. ‘In contact with the learned minds of India we have inspired a new reverence for the Orient.’ In numerical order Vivekananda’s position was number thirty-one.’’

The Swami himself describes to a disciple the opening of the Parliament1 and his own state of mind in replying to the address of welcome offered to the delegates, in the following words:

“On the morning of the opening of the Parliament, we all assembled in a building called the Art Palace, . . . Men from all nations were there. From India were Mazoomdar of the Brahmo Samaj and Nagarkar of Bombay, Mr. Gandhi representing the Jains, and Mr. Chakravarti representing Theosophy with Mrs. Annie Bcsant. Of these men, Mazoomdar and I were of course old friends, and Chakravarti knew me by name. There was a grand procession, and we were all marshalled on to the platform. Imagine a hall below and a huge gallery above, packed with six or seven thousand men and women representing the best culture of the country, and on the platform learned men of all the nations on the earth. And I who

1 In the newly constructed Hall of Columbus of the Art Institute, on Michigan Avenue, Chicago.

never spoke in public in my life, to address this august assemblage!! It was opened in great form with music and ceremony and speeches ; then the delegates were introduced one by one, and they stepped up and spoke! Of course my heart was fluttering and my tongue nearly dried up ; I was so nervous, and could not venture to speak in the morning. Mazoomdar made a nice speech—Cliakravarti a nicer one, and they were much applauded. They were all prepared and came with ready-made speeches. I was a fool and had none, but lx>wcd down to Devi Saraswati and stepped up, and Dr. Barrows introduced me. I made a short speech . . . and when it was finished, I sat down almost exhausted with emotion.”

Indeed, that sea of faces might have given even a practised orator stage-fright. To speak before such a distinguished, critical and highly intellectual audience required intense self-confidence. The Svvami had seen the imposing procession, the huge assembly, the keen, eager faces of the masses, the shrewd, authoritative and dignified countenances of the Princes of the Christian churches, who sat on the platform. He was, as it were, lost in amazement by the splendour of it all. What had he, the unsophisticated Parivrajaka, the simple Indian Sadhu in common with this grand function and these high functionaries? Ay, he had much to do with them, as was shortly to be seen. His very person had attracted the attention of thousands. Amongst Archbishops, Bishops, Priests and Theologians, the many singled him out both by reason of his apparel and his commanding presence. He himself was alternately wrapt in silent prayer and stirred by the eloquence of those speakers who had preceded him. Several times he had been called upon to speak but he had said, “No, not now/’ until the Chairman was puzzled and wondered if he would speak at all. At length, in the late afternoon when the Chairman insisted, the Swami arose.

His face glowed like fire. His eyes surveyed in a sweep the huge assembly before him. The whole audience grew intent; a pin could have been heard to fall. Bowing to Devi Saraswati, the Goddess of Knowledge, he addressed his audience as, “Sisters and Brothers of America.” And with that, before he had uttered another word, the whole Parliament was caught up by a great wave of enthusiasm. Hundreds rose to their feet with shouts of applause. The Parliament had gone mad; everyone was cheering, cheering, cheering! The Swami was bewildered. For full two minutes he attempted to speak, but the wild enthusiasm of the audience prevented it.

When silence was restored, the Swami began his address by thanking the youngest of nations in the name of the most ancient order of monks in the world, the Vedic Order of Sannya-sins, and introducing Hinduism as “the Mother of Religions, a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance.” And he quoted two beautiful, illustrative passages, taken from the scriptures of Hinduism:     As the different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their water in the sea, so, O Lord, the different paths which men take, through different tendencies, various though they may appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee}” And the other: Whosoever comes to Me, through whatsoever form, I reach him ; all men are struggling through paths which in the end lead to Me”

It was only a short speech, but its spirit of universality, its fundamental earnestness and broad-mindedness completely captivated the whole assembly. The Swami announced the universality of religious truths and the sameness of the Goal of all religious realisations. And that he did so, was because he had sat at the feet of a Man of Realisation, in far-off Dhakshines-war, and had learned from his Master, through actual contact and personal test, the truth that all religions were one, that they were all paths leading to the selfsame Goal, the selfsame God. When the Swami sat down exhausted with emotion, the Parliament gave him a -great ovation significant of their approval.

With the exception of a short address on “Why We Disagree,” in which he pointed out, by referring to the frog in the well that thought his little well the whole universe, that the insularity of religious outlook was the source of fanaticism, the Swami did not speak before the Parliament proper until September 19, when he read his celebrated paper on “Hinduism.” This was a summary of the philosophy, psychology, and general ideas and statements of Hinduism. Though the Swami was not the only Indian or even the only Bengali present, he was the only representative of Hinduism proper. There were other Hindu delegates, who stood for societies, or churches or sects, but the Swami stood for Hinduism in its universal aspect. He gave forth the ideas of the Hindus concerning the soul and its destiny ; he expounded the doctrines of the Vedanta philosophy, which harmonises all religious ideas and all forms of worship, viewing them as various presentations of truth and as various paths of realisation thereunto. He preached the religious philosophy of Hinduism, which declares the soul to be eternally pure, eternally free, only appearing under the bondage of matter as limited and manifold. He spoke of the attainment of the Goal—the perception of Oneness—to be the result of innumerable efforts of many lives. He asserted that the soul was never created. And he went on to say that death meant only a change of centre from one body to another and that one’s present was determined by one’s past action and the future by the present! He said that in order to realise Divinity, the self which says, “I” and “mine” must vanish, but this did not mean the denial but the utmost fulfilment of true individuality. By overcoming the small egoistical self, centred in selfishness, one attained to infinite, universal individuality. “Then alone,” he said, “can death cease when I am one with life ; then alone can misery cease when I am one with happiness itself; then alone can all errors cease when I am one with knowledge itself; and this is the necessary scientific conclusion. Science has proved to me that physical individuality is a delusion, that really my body is one continuously changing mass in an unbroken ocean of matter, and Advaitam (unity) is the necessary conclusion with my other counterpart, the Soul.” The overwhelming spirit of his address was the sense of Oneness. And he insisted that the realisation of the Oneness of the Self, ay, the very becoming and being of Divinity, inevitably led to the seeing of the Divinity pianifest everywhere.

And inspired with this vision like another Vedic sage, he addressed the vast mass of humanity before him as “heirs of Immortal Bliss” and exclaimed with apostolic power

Yea, the Hindu refuses to call you sinners! Ye are the children of Cod, the sharers of immortal bliss, holy and perfect beings. Ye divinities on earth—sinners? It is a sin to call a man so ; it is a standing libel on human nature. Come up, O lions, and shake off the delusion that ypu are sheep ; you are souls immortal, spirits free, blest and eternal ; ye are not matter, ye are not bodies : matter is your servant, not you the servant of matter.” “Thus it is,” he continued, “that the Vedas proclaim not a dreadful combination of unforgiving laws, not an endless prison of cause and effect, but that at the head of all these laws, in and through every particle of matter and force, stands One, *by whose command the wind blows, the fire burns, the clouds rain and death stalks upon the earth.’ And what is IIis nature? He is everywhere, the Pure and Formless One, the Almighty and the All-merciful,” and “knowing Him alone you shall be saved from death over again and attain Immortality.”

But what of the polytheism in Hinduism? He explained the psychological necessity of lower forms of religious ideas and worship, of prayers and ceremonies as aids to the purification of mind, and of image-worship as a help to spiritual concentration. There can be no idolatry where the image stands as an objectified image of Divinity. And he said:    With the Hindus, more

over, religion is not centred in doctrinal assent or dissent, but in realisation. Surveyed in this light, forms and symbols and ceremonials are seen to be the supports, the helps of spiritual childhood, which the Hindu gradually transcends as he progresses towards spiritual manhood; even these helps are not necessary for every one or compulsory in Hinduism. He saw “‘Unity in Variety” in religion, and said, “Contradictions come from the same truth adapting itself to the varying circumstances of different natures. And these little variations are necessary for purposes of adaptation. But in the heart of everything the same truth reigns.” In conclusion he presented the idea of a universal religion, having no temporal, spatial or sectarian bounds, but including every attitude of the human inind, from the savage to the most enlightened, in a grand synthesis, all going in their own way towards the Goal.

“Offer such a religion and all the nations will follow you. Asoka’s council was a council of the Buddhist faith. Akbar’s, though more to the purpose, was only a parlour-meeting. It was reserved for America to proclaim to all quarters of the globe that the Lord is in every religion.

“May He who is the Brahman of the Hindus, the Ahura-Mazda of the Zoroastrians, the Buddha of the Buddhists, the Jehovah of the Jews, the Father in Heaven of the Christians, give strength to you to carry out your noble idea. The star arose in the East ; it travelled steadily towards the West, sometimes dimmed and sometimes effulgent, till it made a circuit of the world, and now it. is again rising on the very horizon of the East, the borders of the Sanpo, a thousandfold more effulgent than it ever was before.

“Hail Columbia, motherland of liberty! It has been given to thee, who never dipped her hand in her neighbour’s blood, who never found out that the shortest way of becoming rich was by robbing one’s neighbours, it has been given to thee to inarch at the vanguard of civilisation with the flag of harmony.”

Certainly it is not going beyond the bounds of just appreciation to say that the Swann’s paper on Hinduism was the most unique and prophetic utterance in the history of religions, pointing out the truth of Oneness, of Realisation and of the Divinity of Man. Its ringing declarations of an all-inclusive ideal sounded the death-knell of the bigotry and sectarianism which had drenched the earth so often with human blood and barred the progress of civilisation in the name of religion. The unique feature of its contents was its universal toleration and its sense and spirit of religious co-operation. It had no note of criticism, or of antagonism. Its spirit was synthetic. It went counter to many of the dogmas of the various sects, yet none were attacked. His definition of a universal religion, so startling in its novelty, struck at the very root of all sectarian thought. He spoke with authority, for he was a man of realisation. He had preached in all the solemnity of direct vision, the realisation of the mystical spirit in religion as opposed to the blind credulity which most creeds uncompromisingly demand. Through him the whole burden and effulgence of the Divine consciousness bore in upon the Parliament, and thousands of those who were brought up in a special religious belief saw on that day the universality of Truth and the Oneness of all religious realisation.

The Swami undoubtedly in that hour attained the very climax of his illustrious career, preaching, through the Parliament, to all peoples of the earth, the sovereignty of Human

Nature, its Divinity, and its Unity. And in that hour he was acclaimed by that vast representative assembly of nations as a Man with a Message, as an Apostle of a New Order of Religious Thought; he became a world-figure, his name ever to be associated with the Gospel of the Divinity of Man. Through this address alone, he became the impelling spirit of the New Theology in the West. He made, in short, Christianity itself rc-value its contents. But the greatest service was to India herself by ushering Hinduism into the West and impressing on the Western mind the inestimable richness of its contents.

Sister Nivedita has with great insight best described the general import of his address at the Parliament, thus:

“Of the Swami’s address before the Parliament, of Religions, it may be said that when he began to speak, it was of the religious ideas of the Hindus ; but when he ended, Hinduism had been created. . . .

“For it was no experience of his own that rose to the lips of the Swami Vivekananda there. He did not even take advantage of the occasion, to tell the story of his Master. Instead of cither of these, it was the religious consciousness of India that spoke through him, the message of his whole people, as determined by their whole past. And as lie spoke, in the youth and noonday of the West, a nation, sleeping in the shadows of the darkened half of earth, on the far side of the Pacific, waited in spirit for the words that would be borne on the dawn that was travelling towards them, to reveal to them the secret of their own greatness and strength.)

“Others stood beside the Swami Vivekananda, on the same platform as he, as apostles of particular creeds and churches. But it was his glory that he came to preach a religion to which each of these was, in his own words, ‘Only a travelling, a coming up, of different men and women, through various conditions and circumstances to the same goal.* He stood there, as he declared, to tell of Ofte whb had said of them all, not that one or another was true, in this or that respect, or for this or that reason, but that ‘All these are threaded upon Me, as pearls upon a string. Wherever thou seest extraordinary holiness and extraordinary power, raising and purifying humanity, know thou that I am there.’ To the Hindu, says Vivekananda, Man is not travelling from error to truth, but climbing up from” truth to” truth, from truth that is lower to truth that is higher A This, and the teaching of Mukti—the doctrine that ‘Man is to become divine by realising the divine,’that religion is perfected in us only when it has led us to ‘Him who is the one life in a universe of death, Him who is the constant basis of an ever-changing world, that One who is the only soul, of which all souls are but delusive manifestations’—may be taken as the two great outstanding truths which, authenticated by the longest and most complex experience in human history, India proclaimed through him to the modern world of the West./

‘For India herself, the short address forms, as has been said, a brief Charter of Enfranchisement. Hinduism in its wholeness, the speaker bases on the Vedas, but he spiritualises our conception of the word, even while he utters it. To him, all that is true is Veda. ‘By the Vedas/ he says, ‘no books are meant. They mean the accumulated treasury of spiritual laws discovered by different persons in different times/ Incidentally, he discloses his conception of the Sanatana Dharma . . . . To his mind, there could be no sect, no school, no sincere religious experience of the Indian people—however like an aberration it might seem to the individual—that might rightly be excluded from the embrace of Hinduism. And of this Indian Mother-Church, according to him, the distinctive doctrine is that of the Ishta Devata, the right of each soul to choose its own path, and to seek God in its own way . . .

“Yet would not this inclusion of all, this freedom of each, be the glory of Hinduism that it is, were it not for her supreme call, of sweetest promise, ‘Hear, ye children of immortal bliss! Even ye that dwell in higher spheres! For I have found that Ancient One who is beyond all darkness, all delusion. And knowing Him, ye also shall be saved from death/ Here is the word for the sake of which all the rest exists and has existed. Here is the crowning realisation, into which all others are resolvable,”

Following his paper on “Hinduism” the Swami spoke on “Religion not the Crying Need of India” in which he commented on the fact that it was not religion of which the Indians stood in need, but bread. It was a short address, but therein one finds embodied his solution of India’s pressing problems.. He stated also, that what had brought him to the far West was to seek aid for his impoverished people. By his words the Parliament was made aware that the man who stood before it was not only a priest but a patriot as well. The Swami gave addresses before the Scientific Section also. The first occasion on which he spoke in these conferences, as recorded in the Rev. J. H. Barrow’s book on the World’s Parliament of Religions, was at the one held on the morning of September 22, to discuss “Orthodox Hinduism and the Vedanta Philosophy.” That same afternoon the Swami again spoke on “The Modem Religions of India.” Another conference was held on the 23ixl on the subject of the foregoing addresses. On the 25th the

Swami spoke in the afternoon session, the subject of the address being, “The Essence of the Hindu Religion/’ The reader might be informed here that four other addresses in these conferences were given by the Swami.

On the 26th the Swami delivered before the Parliament of Religions a short address called “Buddhism, the Fulfilment of Hinduism.” He pointed out that Hinduism was divided, as it were, into two branches, one being the ceremonial, and the other the purely spiritual. Buddha interpreted the spiritual elements of the Dharma, with their natural social conclusions, to the people. He was the first Teacher in the world to carry on missionary work and to conceive the idea of proselytising. “Sakya Muni,” said the Swami, “came not to destroy, but he was the fulfilment, the logical conclusion, the logical development of the religion of the Hindus.” Eventually he said, “Hinduism cannot live without Buddhism nor Buddhism without Hinduism,” and that the need in India today was to “join the wonderful intellect of the Brahmana with the heart, the noble soul, the wonderful humanising power of the Great Master.”

The international aspect of the Parliament of Religions took seventeen days, and more than a thousand papers were read before it. The Swami was allowed to speak longer than the ordinary half-hour, and being a popular speaker was always put down last to hold the audience. The people would sit from ten in the morning to ten at night, with only a recess of half-an-hour for luncheon, and listen to paper after paper in which most of them were not interested, to hear their favourite. Such was their enthusiasm!

On the 27th, the Swami delivered his “Address at the Final Session” and here he again rises to one of his happiest and most luminous moods by declaring:

“The Christian is not to become a Hindu or a Buddhist, nor a Hindu or a Buddhist to become a Christian. But each must assimilate the spirit of the others and yet preserve his individuality and grow according to his own law of growth ….

“If the Parliament, of Religions has shown anything to the world it is this. It has “proved to the world that holiness, purity, and charity are not the exclusive possessions of any church in the world and that every system lias produced men and women of the most exalted character. In the face of this evidence, if anybody dreams of the exclusive survival of his own religion and the destruction of the others, I pity him from the bottom of my heart, and point out to him that upon the banner of every religion will soon be written, in spite of his resistance:    ‘Help and not Fight,’ ‘Assimilation and not Destruction,’ ‘Harmony and Peace and not Dissension. ”

Thus did the unknown monk blossom into a world-figure, the Parivrajaka of solitary days in India become the Prophet of a New Dispensation!

On all sides his name resounded. Life-size pictures of him were seen posted up in the streets of Chicago, with the words ‘”The Monk Vivekananda” beneath them, and passers-by would stop to do reverence with bowed head. The press rang with his fame. The best known and most conservative of the metropolitan newspapers proclaimed him as a Prophet and a Seer. Indeed, The New York Herald spoke of him in these words:

“He is undoubtedly the greatest figure in the Parliament of Religions. After hearing him wc feci how foolish it is to send missionaries to this learned nation.’’

The Boston Evening Transcript wrote of him:

“He is a great favourite 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 child like spirit of gratification without a trace of conceit …. At the Parliament of Religions they used to keep Vivekananda until the end of the programme to make people stay till the end of the session. On a warm day, when a prosy speaker talked too long and people began going home by hundreds, the Chairman would get up and announce that Swami Vivekananda would give a short address just before the benediction. Then he would have the peaceable hundreds perfectly in tether. The four thousand fanning people in the Hall of Columbus would sit smiling and expectant, waiting for an hour or two of other men’s speeches, to listen to Vivekananda for fifteen minutes. The Chairman knew the old rule of keeping the best until the last.”

Many leading newspapers of U. S. A., such as The Rutherford, American, The Press of America, The Interior Chicago,

The New York Critique wrote eloquently about Swami Vivekananda.

Many papers had quoted the Swami’s addresses in full. The Review of Reviews described his address as “noble and sublime.” Similar brilliant accounts of the Swami’s triumph appeared in other papers too numerous to quote here. Amongst personal appreciations, the Hon’ble Mr. Merwin-Marie Snell wrote some time after:

“No religious body made so profound an impression upon the Parliament and the American people at large, as did Hinduism …. And by lar the most important and typical representative of Hinduism was Swami Vivekananda, who, in fact, was beyond question the most popular and influential man in the Parliament. He frequently spoke, both on the floor of the Parliament itself and at the meeting of the Scientific Section, over which I had the honour to preside, and, on all occasions lie was received with greater enthusiasm than any other speaker, Christian or Pagan. The people thronged about him wherever he went and hung with eagerness on his every word …. The most rigid of orthodox Christians say of him, ‘He is indeed a prince among men ! . . .”

And the Chairman of the General Committee of the Congress, the Rev. J. H. Barrows, said:

“Swami Vivekananda exercised a wonderful influence over his auditors.”

Dr. Annie Besant giving her impression of the Swami at the Parliament wrote long after:

“A striking figure, clad in yellow and orange, shining like the sun of India in the midst of the heavy atmosphere of -Chicago, a’ lion head, piercing eyes, mobile lips, movements swift and abrupt–such was my first impression of Swami Vivekananda, as I met him in one of the rooms set apart for the use of the delegates to the Parliament of Religions. Monk, they called him, not unwarrantably, but warrior-monk was he, and the first impression was of the warrior rather than of the monk, for he was off the platform, and his figure was instinct with pride of country, pride of race—the representative of the oldest of living religions, surrounded by  curious gazers of nearly the youngest, and by no means inclined to give— step, as though the hoary faith he embodied was in aught inferior to the — noblest there. India was not to be shamed before the hurrying arrogant West by this her envoy and her son. He brought her message, he spoke fn her name, and the herald remembered the dignity of the royal land whence he came. Purposeful, virile, strong, he stood out, a man among men, able to hold his own.    ………

“On the platform another side came out. The dignity and the inborn sense of worth and power still were there, but all was subdued to the exquisite beauty of the spiritual message which he had brought, to the sublimity of that matchless evangel of the East which is the heart, the life of India, the wondrous teaching of the Self. Enraptured, the huge multitude hung upon his words ; not a syllabic must be lost, not a cadence missed! ‘That man a heathen!’ said one, as lie came out of the great hall, ’and we send missionaries to his people! It would be more fitting that they should send missionaries to us.* “

Hundreds of enlightened and liberal-minded persons, Emersonians, Transcendentalists, Neo-Christians, Theosophists, Universalists, Gongregationalisls, either hearing him personally while in attendance at the Parliament, or reading the glowing accounts about him, felt that the Swami was, indeed, another Oriental Master come to them with a new Message. And so meteoric was the transformation of the Swami from obscurity to fame, that it can be truly said that he “awoke one morning to find himself famous.”

But to the Swami the recognition of his eloquence and the glorification of his name, far from touching or elating him, filled him with despondency. Indeed, on the very night of his triumph, he actually wept like a child at the thought that for him the joy of the free life of the unknown monk was at an end. In spite of his hatred of name and fame he was destined to be thwarted in his quest for obscurity. He was the monk with a Message and he had been forced out by Divine Providence. No longer could he be the itinerant monk ; no more the quiet, solemn peace for him ; it was to be strenuous, ceaseless labour with terrible, unintermittent demands upon his time and personality.

The Swami took himself and his Message seriously, and he was filled with courage to fulfil his Master’s will. An incident that occurred in the Parliament—and which is told in the second volume of the Historians. History of the World by The Times, on pages 547 and 548, which were substituted in deference to the violent objection taken by the Indian subscribers to some serious calumnies published therein against Hinduism—illustrates the Swami’s boldnessi of spirit and self-confidence:

“A striking illustration of what in another case would be termed insularity of outlook was brought to view by a noted (Hindu when addressing a vast audience at the World’s Congress of Religions in America, in the city of Chicago, in 1893. Pausing in the midst of his discourse, the speaker asked that every member of the audience who had read the sacred hooks of the Hindus, and who therefore had first-hand knowledge of their religion, would raise his hand. Only three or four hands were raised, though the audience represented, presumably, the leading theologians of many lands. Glancing benignly over the assembly, the Hindu raised himself, to his full height, and in a voice every accent of which must have smitten the audience as a rebuke, pronounced these simple words, ‘And yet you dare to judge us !’’

The Swarai was not only brilliant, but strong, in the hour of his unparalleled success. Ay, without catering to popularity, he assumed a severely critical attitude, and had the audience before him not understood his greatness, it would certainly have accused him of pedantry and “insularity of outlook”. But his love was too deep and sincere to be misunderstood. He found that India and her spiritual ideas had indeed been misrepresented to the public in the West and felt that he must constantly be on the defensive with regard to the merits of the Hindu religion. He always sought to give Hinduism a true status in the West.

His signal success at the Parliament of Religions, however, created jealousy amongst some of the Christian Missionaries and, shame to say, in one of his own countrymen, a leader of a progressive religious movement in India. The latter saw that his own great name and fame were being eclipsed by a new rival. When asked about the antecedents of the Hindu monk, he had whispered to the authorities of the Parliament that the Swami belonged to a vagabond sect in India with no status or influence, and that he was a fraud. Fortunately they were too broadminded to listen and accepted the Swami’s irresistible personality as sufficient credentials. He received no recognition from the Theosophical leaders and representatives in America, who tried their best to cry him down. But these attempts proved futile, and he was the man of the hour wherever he went.

But in the midst of all this popularity the Swami’s heart continued to bleed for India. Personally he had no more wants. The mansions of some of the wealthiest of Chicago society were open to him, and he was received as an honoured guest there. On the very day of his triumph, he was invited by a man of great wealth and distinction to his home in one of the most fashionable parts of the city of Chicago. Here he was entertained right royally ; a princely room fitted with luxury beyond anything he could conceive was assigned to him. But instead of feeling happy in this splendid environment, he was miserable. Name and fame and the approval of thousands had in no way affected him ; though sumptuously cared for, he was the same tSannyasin as of old, thinking of India’s poor. As he retired the first night and lay upon his bed, the terrible contrast between poverty-stricken India and opulent America oppressed him. He could not sleep pondering over India’s plight. The bed of down seemed to be a bed of thorns. The pillow was wet with his tears. He went to the window and gazed out into the darkness until he was wellnigh faint with sorrow. At length, overcome with emotion he fell to the ground, crying out, “O Mother, what do I care for name and fame when my motherland remains sunk iu utmost poverty! To what a sad pass have we poor Indians come when millions of us die for want of a handful of rice, and here they spend millions of rupees upon their personal comfort! Who will raise the masses in India! Who will give them bread? Show me, O Mother, how I can help them!

Over and over again one finds the same intense love for India shining out in his words and actions. The deep and spontaneous love which welled in his heart for the poor, the distressed and the despised, was the never-ceasing source of all his activities. Henceforth the student of the Swami’s life is led into a world of intense thought and work. He will discover that hand in hand with the message of Hinduism to the West, the Swami was constantly studying, observing, trying to turn every new experience to advantage in solving the problems of his country. Though the dusty roads and the parched tongue and the hunger of his Parivrajaka days were ascetic in the extreme, yet the experiences he was to undergo in foreign lands were to be even more severe. He was to strain himself to the utmost. He was to work until work was no longer possible and the body dropped off from sheer exhaustion.

The first intimation of the character of his future work was an invitation from a prominent lecture bureau1 to make a lecturing tour of America. He accepted it as the best way to broadcast the ideas with which his mind teemed, and to disillusionise the Western mind of its erroneous notions concerning India and its culture. It was also a way to become independent and get funds for the various philanthropic and religious works in India which he had in mind. Now we see the Swami travelling hither and thither in America, visiting numerous cities, telling of the glories of India and the greatness of Indian culture. He visited all the larger cities of the Eastern and Mid-Western States lecturing in Chicago, Iowa City, Des Moines, Memphis. Indianapolis, Minneapolis. Detroit, Hartford, Buffalo, Boston, Cambridge, Baltimore, Washington, Brooklyn, New York and other places. Unfortunately there are but few details of this noteworthy tour. Here and there one catches glimpses of his illuminating utterances and the glowing descriptions of his personality as these were recorded in the daily newspapers. Just when the Swami commenced his lecturing tour is unknown. It must have been in the very late autumn or the early winter months when, to use his own expression, he “began to whirl to and fro.” He had many experiences, some extraordinarily spiritual, showing that a great power was working in and through him. Studying America as he did, he came to know it in many ways. During this period he made his headquarters with the family of Mr. George W. Hale of Chicago, where he always received the wannest welcome and was looked upon with great, reverence and regard. He often spoke of their loving kindness and attachment to him.

But the lecturing tour was not altogether a pleasant experience. His lack of suitable apparel caused him to suffer intensely from cold. Then, too, the constant demands of the

1 Probably the Slayton Lyceum Lecture Bureau.

lecture platform told on him. He always spoke extemporaneously. Everywhere he went he was enthusiastically received, people flocking about him and clergymen beseeching him to come and lecture in their churches. Yet at the same time he had to run the gauntlet of innumerable irritating questions, betraying either a monumental ignorance of Hindu culture, or erroneous ideas of life in India. Sonic there were who flatly contradicted him on subjects of which they were in entire ignorance ; then lie fell upon them like a thunderbolt. The Iowa State Register speaking of him said:

“But woe to the man who undertook to combat the monk on his own ground and that was where they all tried it who tried it. at all. His replies came like flashes of lightning and the venturesome questioner was sure to be impaled on the Indian’s shining intellectual lance. The workings ot his mind, so subtle and so brilliant, so well stored and so well trained, sometimes dazzled his hearers, but it was always a most interesting study. Vivekananda and his cause found a place in the hearts of all true Christians.”

The Swami had no patience with small-mindedness or fanaticism. He had great reverence for Christ and His teachings ; but he pointed out the faults and defects of Christian civilisation in unmistakable terms, and occasionally was sternly critical. As an instance may be cited the following from one of his lectures at Detroit in the February of 1894:

“One thing I would tell you. and I do not mean any unkind criticism. Yon train and educate and dot he and pay men to do what?—to come over to my country and curse and abuse all my forefathers, my religion and my everything. They walk near a temple and say, ‘You idolaters, you will go to hell 1′ . . . But the Hindu is mild; he smiles and passes on saying, ‘Let the fools talk.’ That is the attitude. And when you who train men to abuse and criticise, if I just touch you with the least bit of criticism, with the kindest of purpose, you shrink and cry, ‘Do not touch us ; we are Americans, wc criticise, curse and abuse all the heathens of the world, but do not touch us, we are sensitive plants.* You may do whatever you please, but we are content to live as we do ; and in one thing we are better off-—we never teach our children to swallow such horrible stuff:    ‘Where every prospect pleases and man is vile.* And when ever your ministers criticise us let them remember this: if all India stands up and takes all the mud that is at the bottom of the Indian Ocean and throws it up against the Western countries, it will not be doing an infinitesimal part of that which you are doing to us. And what for? Did wc ever send one missionary to convert anybody in the West? We say to you, ‘You are welcome to your religion, but allow us to have ours.’ You rail yours an aggressive religion. You are aggressive, but how many have you converted? Every sixth man in the world is a Chinese subject—all Buddhists ; . . . and it may not be palatable, but this Christian morality, the Catholic Church, and many other things are derived from them. Well, and how was this done? Without the shedding of one drop of blood! With all your brag and boasting where has your Christianity succeeded without the sword? Show me one place in the whole world. One, I say, throughout the history of the Christian religion—one ; I do not want two. I know how your forefathers were converted. They had to be converted or killed, that was all. . . . ‘We are the otdy one.’ And why? Because we can kill others.’ The Arabs said that ; they bragged. And where is the Arab now? Me is the Bedouin. The Romans used to say that, and where are they now? And we have been sitting there? on our blocks of stone. ‘Blessed are the peace makers ; for they shall be called the children of God!’ Such things tumble down ; they are built upon sand; they cannot remain long. Everything that has selfishness for its basis, competition for its right hand and enjoyment as its goal, must die sooner or later. If you want to live, go hack to Christ. You are not Christians. No, as a nation, you are not. Co back to Christ. Go back to Him who had nowhere to lay His head. . . . Yours is a religion preached in the name of luxury. What an irony of late! Reverse this if you want, to live ; reverse this. It is all hypocrisy that I have heard in this country. If this nation is going to live, let it go back to Him. You cannot serve God and Mammon at the same time. All this prosperity, all this from Christ? Christ would have denied all such heresies. … If you can join these two, this wonderful prosperity with that ideal of Christ, it is well ; but if you cannot, better go back to Him and give up these vain pursuits. Better be ready to live in rags with Christ than to live in palaces without Him.”

It is no wonder that utterances like these aroused bitter opposition from the Christian propagandists. They tried to injure his reputation, by abusing and vilifying hirn. They even went to the length, so the Swami said, of tempting him with young women, promising them recompense if they succeeded. They desisted when they found him as simple and pure as a child. It seems almost incredible that they should have gone so far in the name of religion. Amidst all these distractions the Swami kept his equanimity of mind, trusting to the Lord and consoling himself with the thought that the highest-minded Christians and clergymen were his avowed admirers, and in many instances even his followers.

Thus one finds the Swami, now in brilliant Hashes of wit or repartee, now in terms of scathing criticism, uttering his views concerning the worth of Western culture. Perhaps, on one occasion he would retort with sarcastic humour as he did to his questioner in one of his lectures in Minneapolis, when asked if Hindu mothers threw their children to the crocodiles in the rivers, by saying, “Yes, Madam! They threw me in, hut like your fabled Jonah I got out again.” Or on another occasion he would condemn with all seriousness and with remarkable penetration the aggressive and destructive characteristics in Western civilisation, by saying, “I am rather a plain-spoken man, but 1 mean well. I want to tell you the truth. I am not here to flatter you; it is not my business. If I wanted to do that I would have opened a fashionable church in Fifth Avenue in New York. You are my children. I want to show you the way out of self to God by pointing out to you your errors, your defects and your vanities. Therefore you do not hear me praising your current Christianity or your ideals of civilisation, or the peculiar forms of character and life that are developed by Western ethical standards.” Once in Detroit the Swami mercilessly asked, “Where is your Christianity? Where is there a place for Jesus the Christ in this selfish struggle, in this constant tendency to destroy? True, if He were here today, He would not find a stone whereon to lay His head.” When a distinguished clergyman wondered how the Swami could understand the Christ Ideal so well, he replied, “Why, Jesus was an Oriental! It is therefore natural that we Orientals should understand Him truly and readily.”

The Swami had many friends, both clergymen and distinguished laymen, who espoused his cause and answered his critics and urged him to do likewise. But he replied, “Why should I attack in return? It is not the monk’s place to defend himself. Besides, Truth will have its way, believe me, Truth shall stand.” Sometimes his only reply, when he was told of some baseless assertions newly made against him, would be a prayer.

As early as January, 1894, the Swami found that he was being- maliciously attacked by zealous Missionaries in India, who knew that his addresses were harmful to their proselytising activities. In a letter from India, mention was made of an American newspaper in which he was very sharply criticised. The Swami wrote in reply to a disciple:

“The criticism of the paper you meiuion is not to he taken as the attitude of the American people. The paper is almost unknown here and is what they call a ‘blue-nose Presbyterian paper’ very bigoted. Still all the ‘blue-noses’ are not ungctitlenianly. The American people, and many of the clergy are very hospitable to me. That paper wanted to gain a little notoriety by attacking    a man who was being    lionised    by society.

That trick is well known here and they do not think anything of it.Of course, our Indian Missionaries may try to make capital out of it. If they do, tell them, ‘Mark. Jew, a judgment has come upon you!’ Their old building is tottering to its foundation and must come clown in spite of their hysterical shrieks. I pity them—if their means of living fine lives in India is cut down by the influx of Oriental religions here. But nor one of their leading clergy is ever against me.”

ll was true the leading clergy and all progressive thinkers and earnest-minded seekers after truth were his friends. But the Swami was not concerned about that. He knew that if it was the Will of the Most High that his message should be broadcast, nothing on earth could stand against him. His was the spirit of the Rishis of old. His one earnest hope was to gain some disciples, whose spiritual earnestness and sincerity would form the nucleus from which would be disseminated his gospel. Other than that and the regeneration of his motherland, he had no desire. He remained always the meditative monk, the spiritual genius, the man of the Parivrajaka background, the child of the Mother of the Universe, awaiting the commands and the leading from On High.

His lectures at this period were intensely religious and philosophical. He found, however, that the lecture bureau was exploiting and defrauding him. For example, at one lecture, the returns were $2,500, of which the Swami received only $200. At first, in order to hold him, the manager had given him as much as $900 for a single lecture ; but after a time, for reasons best known to himself, he lowered the rate until it became apparent, even to as unworldly-minded a person as the Swami, that he was not being treated fairly. After some weeks, he severed his relations with the lecture bureau, although it meant a considerable pecuniary loss. But glory and financial success was not for himself. His object was to save up a sufficient amount of money wherewith to start philanthropic centres in different provinces of India. But even with this incentive he became disgusted with what he termed “the nonsense of public life and newspaper blazoning.”

He felt happy that the Americans had a great desire for the Highest Truth. But as in all other lands he found many quasi-metaphysicians and spiritual teachers who traded and grew fat on the religious credulity and earnestness of the people in their search for Truth. These made many unsuccessful efforts to have him join their ranks ; but the result was the reverse of their desires, for it made him only the more determined to do work, real spiritual work, for which he would not accept any recompense. He would give freely as the Rishis of ancient India had given.

Meanwhile his mind was busy making contrasts between the Western and the Asiatic cultures, and studying the advantages of many of the industrial and economic systems of the West, so that he could apply them later on in definite and practical ways to the wants of his own people. He visited various museums, universities, institutions and art galleries trying to comprehend the spirit of Western life. Gazing at some work of art, or studying some signal engineering or architectural feat, his thought would leap in admiration of the greatness of the human mind. He became a keen student of the public and social life of America. Often he would gaze in wonder at the mad rush of energy on all sides and view with astonishment the massive, towering palaces of industry, in the large cities. And the contrast between the pomp and power of the Western world, its complicated and highly polished social and industrial life, and the poverty and crowded misery of the Indian cities with here and there some naked Sadhu covered with ashes, would be borne in on him. The greatness of his spirit enabled him to hold the balance even between the two worlds—the East and the West. The result of these continued and thoughtful observations were embodied in his learned treatise, “The East and the West.”

And yet, intense as were his activities, he did not lose touch with his disciples in the East. He was in frequent correspondence with disciples in Madras, Rajputana, and other places, teaching, consoling and inspiring them with his own enthusiasm. He gave them the benefit of his insight into the modes and customs and the greatness of Western life and urged upon them the necessity of organisation and united effort and trust in God. But above all his concern with them was spiritual and the Guru in him came out in all his utterances. He had met numerous women of high intellectual attainments in America, and it was his delight to cross swords with them intellectually. This was a new’ experience, for in India the zenana system excluded women from social and intellectual contacts. One sees the Swami in his letters to India drawing sharp contrasts between the emancipation of Western women and the seclusion of women amongst his own people. He writes, “Can you better the condition of your women? Then there will be hope for your well-being. Otherwise you will remain as backward as you are now.” And he concludes by saying, “As regards spirituality, the Americans are far inferior to us, but their society is far superior to ours. We will teach them our spirituality, and assimilate what is best in their society.”

It was touching to many who met him in the West to see how he endeavoured to fit himself in with the Western standards of good manners. East and West, so different in all other things, are different also in their forms of etiquette. He would oftentimes pause to observe, or would turn to his host or hostess, questioning with all the simplicity of a child as to the right social form. “How is it?” he would ask, “Does the gentleman or the lady precede in coming up or going down the stairs?” As a guest he was given complete personal liberty. They understood that at any moment the mood of insight might come upon him and he would become oblivious of what was happening about him. As with his Master, even the simplest phenomenon of life would remind him of revelations and spiritual truths. The states of meditation and recollection were always with him. Writes Sister Nivedita:

“The Swami never seemed, it must be remembered, to be doing TapasyA, but his whole life was a concentration so intense that for any one else it would have been a most terrible Tapasya. When he lirsi went to America, it was extremely difficult for him to control the momentum that carried him into meditation. ‘When he sits down to meditate,’ had said one whose guest he was in India, ‘in two minutes he feels nothing, though his body be black with mosquitoes.’ With this habit thus deeply ingrained, he landed in America, that country of railroads and traimvavs, and complicated engagement lists ; and at first it was no uncommon thing lor him to be carried two or three times round a tram-circuit, only disturbed periodically by the conductor asking for the fare. He was very much ashamed of such occurrences, however, and worked hard to overcome them.’’

Meanwhile news was pouring into India of the unparalleled success of the Swami in America. The Indian journals and magazines were filled with the American reports of his great address at the Parliament; these quotations, extracts and comments were literally devoured by the Hindus, from Madras to Almora. from Calcutta to Bombay.

The monks of the Ramakrishna Order at Baranagore also read the accounts of the Swami’s success, but though they could not recognise their Naren in the Swami Vivekananda yet something told them in their heart of hearts that it must be he. They had not heard of him for several years. Six months after the Parliament of Religions a letter from the Swami himself settled the matter once for all. Their happiness was inexpressible. They were amazed in spite of Shri Ramakrishna’s prophecy, “Naren shall shake the world to its foundations!”

The general public in India was transported with joy at the glowing accounts of the welcome accorded to the Swami and the message of Hinduism he preached. This was a new order of experience for Hindusthan—to receive recognition of her greatness, to be vindicated as “the Spiritual Teacher of the World”.

The Swami’s name became a household word in every province of India. Madras and Bengal were naturally most enthusiastic and cordial in their appreciation. Large and influential meetings were held at many places to send addresses to the Swami congratulating him on his success and applauding his work in the cause of Hinduism in America. Bhaskar Sctupati, the Raja of Ramnad, sent a message of congratulation. Maharaja Ajit Singh of Rhctri presided over a durbar held for this special purpose, and conveyed to the Swami in his own name and that of his subjects the heartfelt thanks of the State for his worthy representation of Hinduism at the Chicago Parliament. And in Madras, Raja Sir Ramaswamy Mudaliar, Sir Subrahmanya Aiyer, C. I. E., and many other distinguished citizens and scholars took part in a great meeting where stirring speeches were made, the reports of which were duly sent to the Swami. Meetings were also held at Kumbakonam and other cities in the South, and addresses forwarded to him. But in Calcutta, the birthplace of the Swami, the enthusiasm reached a pitch of frenzy. And the Swami, in distant America, took India’s sanction of his work and message not so much as a personal appreciation of himself, but as an indication that the centre of the national ideal of ancient Aryavarta was still sound—that its spiritual foundation stood unshaken, strong as ever. He accepted the generous appreciation of his work in this spirit and sent replies, the most notable and stirring of which were those to the Hindus of Madras and the Maharaja of Khetri.

The citizens of Calcutta organised a great representative meeting in the Town Hall on September 5, 1894 to thank the Swami and the American people. The meeting was organised by the most representative members of the Hindu community, and attended by people of all shades of opinion. Some of the most well-known Pandits as well as the landed aristocracy, the High Court Judges, noted public men, pleaders, politicians, professors and prominent men in many other walks of life took part in the meeting. It was presided over by Raja Peary Mohun Mookerjee, C.S.I. The following resolutions were moved and adopted with eloquent speeches eulogising the Swarm’s work and contribution towards the dissemination of the Hindu culture among the Western nations:

“1. That this meeting desires to record its grateful appreciation <of the great services rendered to the cause of Hinduism by Swami Vivekananda at the Parliament of Religions at Chicago, and of his subsequent work in America.

“2. That this meeting tenders its best thanks to Dr. J. H. Barrows, the Chairman, and Mr. Mcrwin-Marie Snell, the President of the Scientific Section of the Parliament of Religions at Chicago, and to the American people generally, for the cordial and sympathetic reception they have accorded to Swami Vivekananda.

“3. That this meeting requests the Chairman to forward to Sreemat Vivekananda Swami, Dr. Barrows and Mr. Snell copies of the foregoing Resolutions together with the following letter addressed to Swami Vivekananda.

To Sreemat Vivekananda Swami

“Dear Sir,

“As Chairman of a large, representative and influential meeting of the Hindu inhabitants of Calcutta and the suburbs, held in the Town Hall of Calcutta, on the 5th of September, 1894, I have the pleasure to convey to you the thanks of the local Hindu community for your able representation of thcii religion at the Parliament of Religions that met at Chicago in September, 1893.

“The trouble and sacrifice you have incurred by your visit to America as a representative of the Hindu Religion are profoundly appreciated by all whom you have done the honour to represent. But their special acknowledgments are due to you for the services you have rendered to the cause they hold so dear, their sacred Arya Dharma, by your speeches and your ready responses to the questions of inquiries. No exposition of the general principles of the Hindu Religion could, within the limits of a lecture, he more accurate and lucid than what you gave in your address to the Parliament of Religions on Tuesday, the 19th September, 1893. And your subsequent utterances on the same subject on other occasions have been equally clear and precise. It has been the misfortune of Hindus to have their religion misunderstood and misrepresented through ages, and therefore they cannot but feel specially grateful to one of them who had the courage and the ability to speak the truth about it and dispel illusions, among a strange people, in a strange land, professing a different religion. Their thanks are due no less to the audiences and the organisers of the meetings, who have received work, and heard you in a patient and charitable spirit, mnmusm has, for the first lime in its history, found a Missionary, and by a rare good fortune it has found one so able and accomplished as yourself. Your fellow-country men, fcllow-citi/cns and fellow-Hindus feel that they would be wanting in an obvious duty if they did not convey to you their hearty sympathy and earnest gratitude for all your labours, in spreading a true knowledge of their ancient faith. May God grant you strength and energy to carry on the good work you have begun!

Yours faithfully,

Peary Molum Mookerjce.

Chairman”

The lectures that were delivered on the occasion by such prominent men as Mr. N. N. Ghosh, Sir Surendranath Banerjee, and others created a great wave of spiritual enthusiasm. It was as if the Spirit of the Sanatana Dharma were there as a great overshadowing influence of peace and insight and benediction, thrilling and electrifying the utterances of the speakers. The name, Vivekananda, rang with acclaim throughout the length and breadth of Hindusthan ; everywhere he was recognised as a Great Acliarya, the Man who had come to fill a need. He roused the spirit of Hinduism from the lethargy and somnolence into which it had fallen ; and in these meetings one already became aware of that approaching dawn when India, as of old. would become gloriously self-conscious and supremely powerful, not by warfare and streams of blood but by the infinitely more powerful force of the incomparable Vedas and the Vedanta.

VARYING EXPERIENCES AS PREACHER

Before one proceeds to enter into the life of the Swami as a great teacher, training a group of earnest disciples in America, it would be well to take into account many experiences that he had by the way as a lecturer touring through the country. Naturally he met many persons of note and distinction, and of these was the famous agnostic and orator, Mr. Robert Ingersoll, with whom the Swami on several occasions discussed religious and philosophical subjects. During the course of these conversations the great agnostic cautioned the Swami not to be too bold and outspoken, to be careful in his preaching of new doctrines and his criticisms of the ways of life and thought of the people. When asked the reason why, Mr. Ingersoll replied, “Fifty years ago you would have been hanged if you had come to preach in this country, or you would have been burned alive. You would have been stoned out of the villages, if you had come even much later.” The Swami was surprised ; he could not believe that there was such a great amount of fanaticism and bigotry in the American nation, and he told Mr. Ingersoll as much. But there was a difference between the modes of teaching of these two great preachers, for Mr. Ingersoll antagonised all religious ideas, whereas the Swami, though presenting a new order of religious thought, was tolerant of all religions and a devotee of the Christ. The difference between these two great souls is best presented in an anecdote told by the Swami himself. “Ingersoll once said to me,” said the Swami in the course of a class talk, “ ‘I believe in making the most out of this world, in squeezing the orange dry, because this world is all we are sure of/ I replied, *1 know a better way to squeeze the orange of this world than you do ; and I get more out of it. I know I cannot die, so I am not in a hurry. I know that there is no fear, so I enjoy the squeezing. I have no duty, no bondage of wife and children and property; and so I can love all men and women. Everyone is God to me. Think of the joy of loving man as God! Squeeze your orange this way and get ten thousandfold more out of it. Get every single drop! ’ ”

One of the most trying experiences that the Swami had while on his lecturing tour occurred when he was visiting a Western town. Hearing him speak of Indian philosophy, a number of university men, who had become cowboys, took him at his word when he said that one who had realised the Highest was equanimous under all conditions and was not disturbed by any outward influences. They decided to put him to the test and so invited him to lecture to them. When he arrived they escorted him to a wooden tub which they had placed with the bottom up to serve as a platform in the public square of their village. The Swami commenced his address, soon losing himself in the subject. Suddenly there was a deafening noise of shots which went whizzing past his ears! Undisturbed he continued his lecture to the end as though nothing was happening. When he had finished, the cowboys flocked about him and in their boisterous language, they pronounced him “a right good fellow”.

But this incident is complemented by another, which, by its genuine human touch, reveals the fineness, and the greatness of the man. Being an Oriental he was often in the South mistaken for a Negro. Once, when he was leaving a train, a Negro porter, who had seen the Swami welcomed by a reception committee, came up to him, saying that he had heard how in him one of his own people had become a great man and that he would like to have the privilege of shaking hands with him. The Swami warmly clasped the hands of the railway-porter and exclaimed, “Thank you! Thank you, brother!” He related many similar confidences made to him by Negroes and he never resented being thought of as one of them. It happened several times in important cities of the South, that he was refused admittance to the hotels because of his dark colour, the proprietors saying that they could not accommodate a Negro and showing him the door with scant courtesy; but even in these dilemmas he refused to say that he was an Oriental. Where-upon the manager of his lecturing tour had to make other arrangements for him. When the hotel people read his lectures in the morning papers and heard his name spoken broadcast with reverence, they were mortified and hurried to him to offer apologies. Even in the barber shops of Northern cities, he was shown ihe door with caustic remarks. Long after, when a Western disciple referring to these incidents asked him in surprise why he had not informed them who he was, he replied, “What! Rise at the expense of another! I did not come to earth for that!” He was never ashamed of his race. On the contrary, he was proud that he was an Indian, and when any Westerner displayed a sense of superiority before him, because of the fairness of his skin, he did not escape his stern reproof. Sister Nivedita writes:

“He was scornful in his repudiation of the pseudo-ethnology of privileged races. ‘If I am grateful to my white-skinned Aryan ancestor,’ he said, ‘1 am far more so to my yellow-skinned Mongolian ancestor, and most so of all, to the black-skinned Negritoid!’

“He was immensely proud, in his own physiognomy, of what he called his ‘Mongolian jaw,’ regarding it as a sign of ‘Bull-dog tenacity of purpose and referring to this particular race-element, which he believed to be behind every Aryan people, he one day exclaimed, ‘Don’t you sec? The Tartar is the wine of the race! He gives energy and power to every blood!’ ”

Wheresoever he went in the course of his lecture tours the Swami found his name blazoned in the papers. The reporters and editors literally besieged him on all sides. He was made to answer innumerable questions with regard to his habits of life, his religion, his philosophy, his views of Western civilisation, his scheme of future work, his diet, his antecedents, the manners and customs of his people, the political conditions of his land, and a host of other subjects. In this manner the newspapers made the American public acquainted with many details of his personal as well as his country’s history. When he came to Detroit, in the month of February 1894, he was sought after by newspaper reporters day in and day out. It would be well to quote here what the Detroit Free Press, one of the leading journals not only of this city but of America itself, writes concerning him, as the description of the Swami given in this paper is typical of what was printed of him elsewhere in other cities:

“Since tlie Parliament he has spoken to immense audiences in many towns and cities, who have but one opinion of praise and are enthusiastic over his magnetic power and his way of giving light and life to every subject he touches upon.    Naturally    his    views of great questions, coming like himself from the other side of the globe, are refreshing and stirring to American people!. His hearers are pleasantly astonished when the dark-hued, dark-haired, dignified man rises in rich yellow robes and speaks their own language with fluency, distinctness and correctness.”

Commenting on his lecture of February 18, 1894, this same paper reports:

“Swami Vivekananda, Hindu philosopher and priest, concluded his series of lectures, or rather sermons, at the Unitarian church last night speaking on ‘The Divinity of Man.’In spite of the bad weather, the church was crowded almost to the doors,half an hour before the Eastern brother—as he likes to be called—appeared. All professions and business occupations were represented in the attentive audience—lawyers, judges, ministers of the Gospel, merchants, a Rabbi—-not to speak of the many ladies who have, by their repeated attendance and rapt attention, shown a decided inclination to shower adulation upon the dusky visitor, whose drawing-room attraction is as great as his ability in the rostrum.

“The lecture last night was less descriptive than preceding ones, and for nearly two hours Vivekananda wove a metaphysical texture on affairs human and divine, so logical that he made science appear like common sense. It was a beautiful logical garment that he wove, replete with as many bright colours and as attractive and pleasing to contemplate as one of the many-hued fabrics made by hand in his native land and seemed with the most, seductive fragrance of the Orient. The dusky gentleman uses poetical imagery as an artist uses colours, and the lutes are laid on just where they belong, the result being somewhat bizarre in effect, and yet having a peculiar fascination. Kaleidoscopic were the swiftly succeeding logical conclusions, and the deft manipulator was rewarded for his efforts from time to time by enthusiastic applause.”

Writing of her appreciation of the Swami, in his first visit to Detroit, Mrs. Mary C. Funke, a well-known society woman of that city, says many years after:

“Februrary 14th, 1894, stands out in my memory as a day apart, a sacred, holy day ; for it was then that I first saw the form and listened to the voicx! of that great soul, that spiritual giant, the Swami Vivekananda, who, two years later, to my great joy and never-ceasing wonder, accepted me as a disciple.

“ He had been lecturing in the large cities of this country, and on the above date gave the first of a series of lectures in Detroit, in the Unitarian church. The large edifice was literally packed and the Swami received an ovation. I can see hint yet as he stepped upon the platform, a regal, majestic figure, vital, forceful, dominant, and at the first sound of the wonderful voice, a voice all music—now like the plaintive minor strain of an Eolian harp, again, deep, vibrant, resonant—there was a hush, a stillness that could almost be fell, and the vast audience breathed as one man.

” The Swami gave five public lectures and he held his audiences, for his was the grasp of the ‘ master hand,* and he spoke as one with authority. His arguments were logical, convincing, and in his most brilliant oratorical flights never once did he lose sight of the main issue- the truth he wished to drive home.*’

Indeed, one of the notable characteristics in all the Swami’s addresses delivered at this time, which the newspaper descriptions of him did not fail to notice, was his patriotism. To quote one of them: ‘‘His patriotism was perfervid. The manner in which he speaks of ‘My country’ is most touching. That one phrase revealed him not only as a monk, but as a man of his people.”

Everywhere he went the Swami gave himself and his time unstintingly. in service. He gave and gave, until the strain became intense. He accepted every invitation, thinking that it was an opportunity afforded him to help others. He felt that he was being guided by the Lord ; and it was true of him that he exerted as great an influence in private as in public life. To present the ideals of the civilisation and the religious consciousness of his own race to the peoples of the West, to enhance the spiritual vision of all with whom he came into contact, to enlighten the Western mind with the knowledge of the Advaita Vedanta—these were the ideas which possessed him. The spiritual side of his message was constantly in the foreground, and he found that though India might be seriously in need of material aid, the West stood infinitely more in need of spiritual assistance. So he decided that he should give himself to the West as well as to the East, that he should give himself, in fact, to the whole wide world.

During this period and continuously the Swami received invitation after invitation to speak before clubs and churches and before private gatherings. Most of these he readily accepted in so far as was practicable for him, and thus it is no wonder to find him travelling here and there and everywhere in the Eastern and Mid-Western States of America, numbers of times, from Chicago to New York and from Boston to Baltimore.

He had to deliver twelve to fourteen lectures or sometimes even more a week. He felt greatly the excessive physical and mental strain ; he confessed that on his lecture tour after a time the strain was so great that he felt as if he had exhausted himself intellectually. At such times he asked himself, “What is to be done! What shall I say in my lecture tomorrow!” And in his extremity he was aided in many wonderful ways. For instance, at dead of night he would hear a voice shouting at him the very thoughts which he was to speak on the morrow. Sometimes it would come as from a long distance, speaking to him down a great avenue, as it were ; and then it would draw nearer and nearer. Or again it would be like someone delivering a lecture alongside of him, as he lay on his bed listening. At other times two voices would argue before him, discussing at great length subjects that he would find himself repealing on the following day upon the platform or in the pulpit. Sometimes these discussions involved ideas that he had never heard or thought of previously.

He was not, however, puzzled at these strange happenings, and interpreted them as manifestations of the wider faculties of the mind—subjective, mere automatic mental operations. The mind, imbued with given forms of thought, works instinctively on their enlargement, calling on the creative faculties for their more perfect presentation and utterance. It was perhaps an extreme case of the mind becoming its own Guru. Commenting upon these experiences to his more intimate disciples he would remark that they constituted what is regarded as inspiration. Though the Swami described them as subjective experiences, yet it must be noted that some of the inmates of the same residence would ask him in the morning, “Swami, with whom were you talking last night? We heard you talking loudly and enthusiastically and we were wondering.” The Swami would smile at their bewilderment and would answer in an evasive manner which left them mystified. To his disciples he would explain that these incidents betrayed the powers and potentialities of the Self, and denied that there was anything miraculous about them.

During this time and at certain subsequent periods of his stay in the West the Swami felt extraordinary Yoga powers developing spontaneously within him, yet, rarely did he exercise them with determination ; in the few cases that he did so, it was only for some grave reason. He could change, if he so wished, the whole trend of the life of any one by a simple touch. He could see clearly things happening at a great distance. Some of the intimate disciples to whom he spoke casually of this fact, prevailed upon him to allow them to test him, in spite of his abhorrence of making a display of psychic powers, and they invariably found his words to be true. On many an occasion his students would find him answering and solving the very doubts and questions that were troubling them at the moment. He could read one’s past life and read the contents of one’s mind at a glance. Once a wealthy citizen of Chicago chaffed the Swami rather flippantly about his Yogic powers and challenged him to demonstrate them. He said, “Well, sir, if all this which you say be true, then tell me something of my mental make-up, or of my past!” The Swami hesitated a moment; then he fixed his eyes upon those of the man as though he would pierce, by some quiet but irresistible power, through the body to the naked soul. The man at once became nervous. His flippancy gave way to sudden seriousness and fear and he exclaimed, “O Swami, what are you doing to me? It seems as if my whole soul is being churned and all the secrets of my life are being called up in strong colours!” The Swami did not consider these powers to be marks of spirituality and never cared to exercise them.

People who had listened for years with increasing dissatisfaction to numerous preachers of modern cults, came to hear him and had their souls aroused and their spiritual hopes fulfilled. His utterances were authoritative, his realisation genuine, he spoke of what he had felt and had himself seen. Those who had knocked long at the doors of wisdom found that through him the gates were opening. And those who had him as their guest at this time would speak of him as a kaleidoscopic genius, enriching his surroundings with a many-sided greatness. It is no wonder that those who came in intimate contact with him would say that he was a soul of unspeakable beauty and grandeur and that he transcended their previous notions of greatness or of saintship.

In September, 1894, finding that his American work had been wilfully misrepresented in Calcutta and that enterprising publishers were printing books of his speeches and sayings in such a way “as to savour of political views,” he wrote with vehemence to a disciple in Madras stating:

“I am no politician or political agitator. I care only for the Spirit …. So you must warn the Calcutta people that no political significance he ever attached falsely to any of my writings or sayings. What nonsense! … I heard that the Rev. Kali Gharan Bancrji in a lecture to the Christian missionaries had said that I was a political delegate. If it was said publicly, then publicly ask the Babu from me, to write to any of the Calcutta papers and prove it, or else take back his foolish assertion …. I have said a few harsh words in honest criticism of Christian Governments in general, but that docs not mean that I care for, or have any connection with politics …. Tell my friends that a uniform silence is all my answer to my detractors …. This nonsense of public life and newspaper blazoning has disgusted me thoroughly. I long to go back to the Himalayan quiet.”

Only a man of the Swami’s calibre could have stood the intensity of his life at this time. It is no wonder, therefore, to find him longing for the retreats and silence of the distant Himalayas.

THE BEGINNING OF WORK

It is an exceedingly difficult task to keep up with the Swami in his travels following upon the Parliament of Religions. His lecture tour tinder the bureau carried him far and wide. But his travels, while going about delivering lectures and holding parlour meetings and class talks, on his own account, were even more varied. Within the short time of a year he had visited practically every city of consequence from the Atlantic coast to the Mississippi River, and had given innumerable lectures, both public and private, the reports of most of which are unfortunately not available now. Wherever he went, he went as a guest. In Detroit he was for about four weeks the guest of Mrs. John J. Bagley, the widow of the ex-Governor of Michigan and a lady of rare culture and unusual spirituality. She often said that during this time the Swami constantly expressed the highest in word and action, and that his presence was a “continual benediction.” After leaving Mrs. Bagley, he spent two weeks as the guest of the Hon. Thomas W. Palmer, the President of the World’s Fair Commission and formerly a U. S. Senator and the Minister of his country to Spain. When not travelling, or answering invitations coining from all directions, he was frequently the guest of Mr. George W. Hale of Chicago. After giving A series of lectures in the Unitarian Church at Detroit in February, the Swami spent the months of March, April and May of 1894, alternately in Chicago, and New York and Boston. June he spent in Chicago, while during the mid-summer months he delivered a series of lectures at Green-acre in New England, where the “Greenacre Conferences” were being inaugurated and before which he had been asked to speak. Here a group of earnest students gathered round him, and the Swami expounded the Vedanta philosophy as they sat in oriental fashion under a venerable pine tree, since called “The Swami’s Pine.” These conferences became widely known through the School of Comparative Religions conducted there by Dr. Lewis G. Janes, who was long the President of the Brooklyn Ethical Association. Following upon his work in Greenacre, where he left an indelible impression, the Swami visited on invitation various intellectual and society people in the cities and suburbs of Boston, Chicago and New York. In this way he spent the autumn, visiting Baltimore and Washington at the end of October. In November he went to New York again. His previous visits to the city had been only casual, as a guest in the homes of friends. He had given a few public lectures but was not yet in a position to begin regular work. It was at this time that he met Dr. Lewis G. Janes, mentioned above, who was so much struck with his unusual attainments as well as with his message that he invited him at once to give a series of lectures on the Hindu Religion before the Brooklyn Ethical Association. This the Swami accepted. From that time until death separated them he and Dr. Janes were fast friends.

His first lecture in Brooklyn before that Association ensured him immediate success. A large and enthusiastic audience greeted him on that night—the last night of the year—to listen to his lecture on Hinduism, “and as the Swami, in his long robe and turban, expounded the ancient religion of his native land, the interest grew so deep that at the close of the evening there was an insistent demand for regular classes in Brooklyn”. The Swami acceded, and a series of class meetings were held and several public lectures were given at the Pouch Mansion, where the Ethical Association held its meetings, and elsewhere.

Of his appearance before the Brooklyn Ethical Society, The Brooklyn Standard writes:

“It was the voire of the ancient Rishis of the Vedas, speaking sweet words of love and toleration through the Hindu monk, Paraniahanisa Swami Vivekananda, that held spellbound every one of those many hundreds who had accepted the invitation of the Brooklyn Ethical Society and packed the large lecture hall and the adjoining rooms of the Pouch Gallery on Clinton Avenue to overflowing, on the 30th December, 1894.

. . Men of all professions and callings—doctors and lawyers and judges and teachers—together with many ladies, had come from all parts of the city to listen to his strangely beautiful and eloquent defence of the Religion of India. . . .

“And they were not disappointed. Swami (i.e. Master or Rabbi or Teacher) Vivekananda is even greater than his fame. . . . He was a splendid type of the famous sages of the Himalayas, a prophet of a new religion combining the morality of the Christians with the philosophy of the Buddhists ….

“Whatever else may be said of the Swami’s lecture or address (for it was spoken extemporaneously), it was certainly intensely interesting . . . .“

This series of lectures constituted the real beginning of the Swami’s work in America. He had already anticipated the serious character of his future activity by breaking away from social invitations and establishing himself in quarters of his own in the city of New York. He was tired and disgusted with the fame he had acquired ; and he felt that the interest he had awakened was not what he wanted ; to his mind it was too superficial. He desired earnest-minded followers whom he could teach freely, while living independently in a place of his own. For this reason he announced classes and lectures free of charge, himself paying expenses with the money he had gained in his lecturing tours. Many came, some from curiosity, others from earnest sincerity “to learn the ancient teachings of India and the all-embracing character of its philosophy, . . . and, above all, to hear the constant lessons of the Swami on a world-wide universal toleration”. Miss S. E. Waldo, of Brooklyn, who became one of the Swami’s foremost disciples, and well known under the name of Sister Haridasi, writes as follows, taking up the thread of her narrative from the time of his lecture before the Ethical Association:

“A few of those who had heard him in Brooklyn now began to go to the place where he lived in New York. It was just an ordinary room on the second floor of a lodging house. The classes grew with astonishing rapidity, and as the little room filled to overflowing it became very picturesque. The Swami himself sat on the floor and most of his audience likewise. The marble-topped dresser, the arms of the sofa and even the corner wash-stand helped to furnish scats for the constantly increasing numbers. The door was left open and the overflow filled the hall and sat on the stairs. And those first classes! How intensely interesting they were I Who that was privileged to attend them can ever forget them !

The Swami so dignified yet so simple, so gravely earnest, so eloquent, and the close ranks of students, forgetting all inconveniences, hanging breathless on his every word!

“It was a fit beginning for a movement that has since grown to such grand proportions. In this unpretentious way did Swami Vivekananda inaugurate the work of teaching Vedanta philosophy in New York. The Swami gave his services free as ail’. The rent was paid by voluntary subscriptions ; and when these were found insufficient, the Swami hired a hall and gave secular lectures on India and devoted the proceeds to the maintenance of the classes. He said that Hindu teachers of religion felt, it to be their duty to support their classes and the students too, if they were unable to care for themselves, and the teachers would willingly make any sacrifice they possibly could, to assist a needy disciple.

“The classes began in February, 1895, and lasted until June ; but long before that time they had outgrown their small beginnings and had removed downstairs to occupy an entire parlour floor and extension. The classes were held nearly every morning and on several evenings in every week. Some Sunday lectures were also given, and there were ‘question’ classes to help those to whom the teaching was so new and strange that they were desirous to have an opportunity for more extended explanation.”

It is touching to find the Swami teaching Americans of wealth and position, in the fashion of the ancient Gurus. Though they had money, he would not make a single charge. Religion, to his mind, ought to be given free, for it was something not to be bartered but realised. Though it is true that regular classes did not begin until February of the year 1895, yet numbers of visitors flocked to him constantly. The Swami now felt that he was carrying on his message, slowly, perhaps, but surely, in the right way. Formerly he had stood merely in the limelight, which to the superficial mind means success. But the Swami knew better, for he had within him the Sannyasin instinct for sounding the reality and worth of things. He abandoned readily the surroundings and the invitations of persons of wealth and social position for the simple and yet intense life which he deemed necessary for the spread of the cause.

At this time he worked more strenuously than ever; he gave his whole time to teaching by means of talks and lectures, and regularly every day trained some chosen followers how to quiet the mind in the silence of meditation. Teaching his auditors how to meditate he would himself drift into the meditative state, and oftentimes so deeply that he could not readily be brought back to normal consciousness. When the Swami emerged from such states, he would feel impatient with himself, for he desired that the Teacher should be uppermost in him, rather than the Yogi. In order to avoid repetitions of such occurrences, he instructed one or two, how to bring him back by uttering a word or a Name, should he be carried by the force of meditation into Samadhi. Often he would be found singing Sanskrit hymns in gentle tones, or murmuring to himself some of the great Shlokas of the Vedas and the Upanishads. He literally radiated spirituality. Indeed, that same atmosphere of ecstasy and insight that hovered about the Master at Dakshineswar, now hovered about the Swami in these strange surroundings in a far-off land. Ail atmosphere of benediction, of peace, of power and of inexpressible luminosity was felt by one and all who came to his classes.

It is interesting to read the description of the Swami given by the Phrenological Journal of New York. It reads:

“Swami Vivekananda is in many respects an excellent specimen of his race, lie is five feet eight and a half inches in height and weighs one hundred and seventy pounds. His head measures twenty-one and thrce-fourtlis inches in circumference by fourteen from ear to ear across the top. He is thus very well proportioned as regards both body and brain. His instincts are too feminine to be compatible with much conjugal sentiment. Indeed, he says himself that he never had the slightest feeling of love for any woman. As he is opposed to war and teaches a religion of unmixed gentleness, wc should expect his head to be narrow in the region of the ears at the seat, of combativeness and destructiveness, and such is the case. The same deficiency is much marked in the diameters a little farther up at secretivencss and acquisitiveness. He dismisses the whole subject of finance and ownership by saying that he has no property and does not want to be bothered with any. While such a sentiment sounds odd to American cars, it must be confessed that his face, at least, shows more marks of contentment than the visages of Russel Sage, Hetty Green and many others of our multi-millionaires. Firmness and conscientiousness are fully developed. Benevolence is quite conspicuous. Music is well indicated in the width of the temples. The prominent eyes betoken superior memory of words and explain much of the eloquence he has displayed in his lectures. The upper forehead is well developed at causality and in comparison to which is added a fine endowment of suavity and sense of human nature. Summing up the organisation, it will be seen that kindness, sympathy and philosophical intelligence, with ambition to achieve success in the direction of higher educational work are his predominant characteristics. Being a graduate of the Calcutta University, lie speaks English almost as perfectly as if he weic a native of England. If he does no more than continue the development of that splendid spirit of charity which was displayed at the World’s Fair, his mission among us will certainly prove eminently successful.“

Yet, in spite of the appreciation of the beauty of his character and the grandeur of his mission and leaching, the path before the Swami was not a smooth one. With his great veneration for Jesus the Christ, which all who knew him were aware of, it is almost unbelievable that the Swami was continuously persecuted by sectarian and bigoted Christians who, not satisfied with criticising his work and philosophy, made attacks upon his personal character. Sometimes notes and letters were sent to persons who had invited him to their homes, which declared that the Swami was not what: he represented himself to be, and contained all kinds of calumnies against him. Occasionally these notices had the desired effects, and the Swami would find that the doors of his intended hosts were closed to him! But in most instances, the error would be discovered after a time, and they would call and apologise, and become greater friends than ever. So the obstacles he had to face were enormous, keeping him on edge, as it were, constantly. Everywhere he encountered the weighty opposition of sheer ignorance. Some idea of the difficulties may be gleaned from a letter written to the Brahmavadin in the following year by Swami Kripananda, an American disciple, which is quoted at some length here to show the Swami’s mettle.

“The wonderful success which the Swami Vivekananda achieved in spreading the religious and the philosophical ideas of the Hindus in America, rnav lead one to the erroneous conclusion that this happy result was due to a coincidence of favourable circumstances, rather than to his extraordinary ability. It is only by studying the fin de siecle condition of our country, by taking cognisance of the antagonistic forces that had to ho coped with, and considering the numerous difficulties to be overcome in this attempt, that wc come to fully appreciate the grandeur of the work accomplished, and to realise that the great success accompanying it, is solely due to the personality of the Teacher, to his extraordinary moral, intellectual and spiritual endowments, and to his exceptional energy and willpower.

“It is true that, on the occasion of the Parliament of Religions at Chicago, many Indians succeeded in calling the attention of the world to the Light from the East, and caused a wave to pass over our country ; but this wave would have died away as quickly as it had come, without leaving any lasting clfcct, had it not been for the efforts of this one man who unremittingly persisted in grafting the Hindu religious ideas on Western materialism and never rested until his work was crowned with success.

“At the time the American mind was coated with thick layers of superstition and bigotry that had conic down from olden times and there was no humbug, no charlatanry, no imposition which had not left there an impress extremely difficult to eradicate. The Americans are a receptive nation. That is why the country is a hot-bed of all kinds of religious and irreligious monstrosities. There is no theory so absurd, no doctrine so irrational, no claim so extravagant, no fraud so transparent, but can find their numerous believers and a ready market. This morbid craving for the abnormal, the occult, the sensational, has practically brought about a revival of the Middle Ages. To satisfy this craving, to feed the credulity of the people hundreds of societies and sects are born for the salvation of the world and to enable the prophets to pocket $25 to $100 initiation fees. Hobgoblins, spooks, Mahatmas and new prophets were rising every day. In this bedlam of religious cranks, in this devil’s kitchen of fraud, imposture and knavery, the Swami appeared to teach the lofty religion of the Vedas, the profound philosophy of the Vedanta, the sublime wisdom of the ancient Rishis. The most unfavourable environment lor such a task!    Before even starting this great mission, it was necessary to first perform the Herculean labour of cleansing this Augean stable of imposture, superstition and bigotry, a task sufficient to discourage the bravest heart, to dispirit the most powerful will. But the Swami was not the man to be deterred by difficulties. Poor and friendless, with no other support than God and his love for mankind, he set patiently to work, determined not to give up until the message he had to deliver would reach the hearts of truth-seeking men and women.

“In the beginning crowds of people flocked to his lectures, consisting partly of curiosity-seekers, partly of the representatives of the cranky and fraudulent elements mentioned before, who thought that they had found in the Swami a proper tool to forward their interests. Most of the latter type of persons tried to induce him to embrace their cause, first by promises of support, and then by threats of injuring him if he refused to ally himself with them. But they were all grievously disappointed. For the first time they had met with a man who could be neither bought nor frightened —‘the sickle had hit on a stone,’ as the Polish proverb says. To all these propositions his only answer was, I stand for Truth. Truth will never ally itself with falsehood. Even if all the world should be against me, Truth must prevail in the end.f He denounced fraud and superstition in whatever guise they appeared, and all those untrue and erratic existences hid themselves, like bats at the approach of daylight, in their haunts before this apostle of Truth.

“The methods and tactics of the Christian Missionaries are well known. They would have liked to have the Swami preach Christianity as they understood it, but ‘It could not., should not be,’ as runs the refrain of the German folksong. Indifferent to the filthy stories they set in circulation about him, he peacefully continued to preach God and Love and Truth, and their gossip had only advertised his lectures, and gained him the sympathy of all fair-minded people.

“A worthier antagonist, though not commensurate with his strength, lie had to meet in another class of people, the so-called Free-thinkers, embracing the atheists, materialists, agnostics, rationalists, and all those who, on principle, are averse to anything that savours of religion. They thought that this Hindu monk was an easy match for them, and that all his theology would be crushed under the weight of Western civilisation, Western philosophy, and Western science. So sure were they of their triumph, that they invited him, in New’ York, to lecture before their society, anxious to show to their numerous followers how easily religious claims could be refuted by the powerful arguments of their logic and pure reasoning. I shall never forget that memorable evening when the Swami appeared single-handed to face the forces of materialism, arrayed in their heaviest armour of law*, and reason, and logic, and common sense, of matter, and force, and heredity, and all the stock phrases calculated to awe and terrify the ignorant. Imagine their surprise and consternation when they found that, far from being intimidated by these big words, he proved himself a master in wielding their own weapons, and as familiar with the arguments of materialism as with those of the Advaita philosophy. He showed them that their much-vaunted Western civilisation consisted principally in the development of the art to destroy their fellow-men, that their Western science could not answer the most, vital questions of life and being, that their immutable law’s, so much talked of, had no outside existence apart from the human mind, that the very idea of matter was a metaphysical conception, and that it was the much-despiscd metaphysics upon which ultimately rested the very’ basis of their materialism. With an irresistible logic he demonstrated that their knowledge proved itself incorrect, not by comparison with knowledge which is true, but by the very laws upon which it depends for its basis ; that pure reasoning could not help admitting its own limitations and pointed to something beyond reason ; and that rationalism when carried to its last consequences must ultimately land us at a something which is above matter, above force, above sense, above thought and even consciousness, and of which all these are but manifestations.

The powerful effect of this lecture could be seen on the following day, when numbers of the materialistic camp came to sit at the feet of the Hindu monk, and listen to his sublime utterances on God and religion.

“Thus the Swami gathered around himself, from among the most heterogeneous classes of society a large and ever-increasing following of sincere men and women animated with the only desire to pursue truth for truth’s owii sake.

“This is a delineation of the negative side of the Swami’s work. He had first to clear the ground and lay a deep foundation for the grand edifice to be built.”

More and more, as time went on, the Swami found himself winning, to a greater and still greater extent, the confidence and the respect, and even the reverence, of large numbers of people in America. Many of these devoted themselves heart and soul to his work and became his followers in a definite sense.

Meanwhile his disciples in India were looking up to him for guidance, sending him numerous letters and even begging him to return to India ; to which his reply was that they should depend upon themselves, believe in themselves and ‘‘march on”. The Swami seemed, in some aspects, to have the strength of a military leader ; his letters charging and inciting them to work were always military in character and intensity ; and his reprimands and words of encouragement were alike replete with martial enthusiasm. He had no patience with lack of self-confidence and his constant watchword was, “Stand on your own feet!” He wrote, “. . . if you are really my children you will fear nothing, stop at nothing. You will be like lions. We must rouse India and the whole world. . . .” All his letters to India at this time are filled with this spirit and with a remarkable penetration into the nature of Indian problems. His comments on Christianity, during this period, are also interesting. In a letter he writes as follows, at the very time of the agitation against him by missionary bodies in America, and it is mentioned to show the great generosity and kindly spirit of the Swami:

“. . . . The Christianity that is preached in India is quite different from what one sees here ; you will be astonished to hear that I have friends in this country amongst the clergy of the Episcopal and even Presbyterian churches, who are as broad, as liberal and as sincere, as you are in your own religion. The real spiritual man is broad everywhere. His love forces him to be so. Those to whom religion is a trade, are forced to become narrow and mischievous by their introduction into religion of the competitive, fighting and selfish methods of the world.”

When his Indian friends had sent to him the missionary criticism concerning himself and his work, he answered:

. . . In future do not pay any heed to what people say either for or against me …. I shall work incessantly until I die. and even after death I shall work for the good of the world. Truth is infinitely more weighty than untruth ; …. It is the force of character, of purity and of truth-of personality. So long as I have these things you can feel easy ; no one will he able to injure a hair of my head. If they try they will fail, saycili the Lord. …”

Probably none other of the Swami’s writings are so surcharged with the apostolic fire of his own personality as his letters, and particularly his letters written at this time to his Gurubhais and his Indian devotees. These abound with such fine utterances as the following taken at random:

“, . . .I do not care whether they are Hindus, or Mohammedans or Christians, but those that love the Lord will always command my service.

. Plunge into the fire and bring people towards the Lord. Everything will come to you if you have faith.”

“I always pray for you ; you must pray for me. Let each one of us pray day and night for the downtrodden millions in India who are held fast by poverty, priestcraft and tyranny -pray day and night for them. care more to preach religion to them than to the high and the rich. I am no metaphysician, no philosopher, nay, no saint. I am poor, I love the poor …. Who feels in India for the two hundred millions of men and women sunken for ever in poverty and ignorance? Where is the way out? Who feels for them? They cannot find light or education. Who will bring ihe light to them—who will travel from door to door bringing education to them? Let these people he your God—think of them, work for them, pray for them incessantly—the Lord will show you the way. Him I call a Mahatmfi, whose heart bleeds for the poor, otherwise, he is a Duralma. . . . We may die unknown, unpitied, unbewailed, without accomplishing anything, hut not one thought will he lost. It will take effect sooner or later. … So long as the millions live in hunger and ignorance, hold every man a traitor who, having been educated at their expense, pays not the least heed to them I . . . We are poor, my brothers, we are nobodics, but such have always been the instruments of the Most High.”

“I only want men to follow me, who can be true and faithful unto death.

I (It) not care for success or non-success. … I must keep my movement pure, or I will have none of it.”

“India’s doom was sealed the very day they invented the word MIeccha and stopped from communion with others.”

“An organisation that will teach the Hindus mutual help and appreciation is absolutely necessary.”

“. . . . Work among those young men who can devote heart and soul to this one duly—the duty of raising the masses of India. . . . Cultivate the virtue of obedience. . . . No centralisation is possible unless there is obedience to superiors. No great work can be done without this centralisation of individual fortes. . . . Give up jealousy and conceit. Learn to work unitedly for others. This is the great need of our country.”

The letters that the Swami sent constantly to India, both to his disciples in Madras and Northern India and to his Gurubhais in the monastery at Baranagore, had almost the same value as his presence. They encouraged all who read them ; they made them ambitious to do and to serve ; and one finds many of his disciples earnestly devoting themselves, at his bidding, to the carrying out of his plans and ideas. After he started his systematic work in New York, the Swami constantly urged his disciples in Madras to launch a magazine on Vedantic lines. He even helped them to carry out this project by sending them enough money from the proceeds of his secular lectures, and the magazine called Brahmavddin came into existence. He begged them to study the Sanskrit scriptures and gave the following suggestions in a letter from New York dated May 6, 1895, as to the lines on which the journal was to be conducted:

“Now I will tell you my discovery. All of religion is contained in the Vedanta, that is, in the three stages of the Vedanta philosophy, the Dvaita, the Visit isht Advaita and Advaita ; one comes after the other. These are the three stages of spiritual growth in mart. Every one is necessary. This is the essential of religion:    The Vedanta applied to the various ethnic customs and creeds of India, is Hinduism. The first stage, i.e. Dvaita, applied to the ideas of the ethnic groups of Europe, is Christianity ; as applied to the Semitic groups, Mohammedanism ; the Advaita as applied in its Yoga perception form, is Buddhism. Now, by religion is meant the Vedanta ; the applications must vary according to the different needs, surroundings and other circumstances of different, nations. You will find that although the philosophy is the same, the Shaktas. Shaivas and others apply it, each, to their own special cult and forms. Now, in your journal write article after article on these three systems, showing their harmony as one following after the other, and at the same time avoiding the ceremonial forms altogether. That is, preach the philosophy, the spiritual part, and let people suit it to their own forms. . . . The journal must not be llippant but steady, calm and high toned. … Be perfectly unselfish, be steady and work on. . . .”

Thus the Swami was also ushering some work in India and guiding it through letters from distant America. He was preparing a field for himself when he would return back to India. To return to a further consideration of the Swami’s work with his classes in New York, the nature of it was largely that of Raja-Yoga and Jnana-Yoga. He taught the students the path of practical spirituality by the inner control of the senses, through Raja-Yoga, to still the mind, and to subordinate the sense-impulses to reason ; in short, to spiritualise the whole personality. Meditation was the key to spirituality, and he held regular classes in which the students were taught to concentrate. The Swami himself spent long hours in meditation, squatting on the ground in the Yogi fashion as in India. Thus the students learnt how to overcome physical consciousness and to realise the potential divinity within them. They learnt that religion was not a question of belief but of practice, and they began to practise under the Swami’s guidance systematically certain spiritual and physical exercises by which equilibrium of the body and the mind could be established.

In order to achieve success, the Swami enjoined on the students the necessity of absolutely pure lives, and of simple Sattvika food, else grave mental and physical disorders, and even insanity, might result. Thus his classes took on the aspect of monastic gatherings, permitting the highest flights of philosophy and spiritual recollectedness. He warned his students against the occult, pointing out that psychic powers were impediments to real spiritual progress, and only diverted one from the right path. The Swami was almost violent in his denunciation of the sects or persons who subordinated spirituality to that grossest of all superstitions, psychic powers. And the Swami put into practice that which he preached. Thus one sees him in his New York retreat, in the morning or the evening quiet, or at dead of night, meditating. Oftentimes he was lost in meditation, his unconsciousness of the external betraying his complete absorption within.

And the Swami was pre-eminently fitted to teach the practices of meditation. Having practised innumerable forms of meditation under the guidance of his Master and possessing a mind informed of all the details and intricacies in the experience of its different states, he was qualified to know the tendency of every disciple and to develop everyone according to his special tendencies, giving every disciple, in accordance with his nature a special ideal and special form of meditation. His scientific turn of mind gave him a deep insight into the rationale of Yoga exercises ; and therefore he could analyse his own experiences and those of his disciples, endeavouring at all times to give a subjective rather than an objective interpretation to the visions and phenomena of meditation ; and his counsel was to test everything by reason. Whatever he taught to his disciples he said that he had himself experienced. His theories of the anatomy of the nervous system and of its relations to the brain, his statements as to the relation between states of mind and nervous changes, drew the attention of a great number of noted American physicians and physiologists, some of whom championed his theories, avowing that they contained truths concerning the functions of the body which were worthy of careful investigation. His claim that meditation brought about the extension and development of the human faculties and produced supernormal experiences, hitherto classified as miraculous phenomena, interested the foremost American psychologists, particularly Prof. William James of Harvard University. But his personal disciples were concerned with the spiritual rather than the academic side of religious study, and their efforts at meditation continued unabated.

His lectures at this time were replete with the deepest philosophical insight and with extraordinary outbursts of devotion, revealing his nature as essentially a combination of the Jnani and Bhakta, the saint and true mystic in one. Sometimes it would seem as if the veils that blind the spiritual vision were rent, and the Swami would stand before his classes a veritable knower of the Self. His hours when not employed in meditation, in private or class teaching, or in replying to various correspondents, were consumed in the pursuit of secular knowledge which he absorbed and turned to spiritual account. The flow of life in the Western world interested him. He was also engaged at this time in penning those immortal thoughts that have become embodied in his now famous work, Rdja-Yoga, and which were originally given as class lectures in his New York centre.

It was some time about June that he completed Rdja-Yoga. The manner in which he wrote this is of exceeding interest. His staunch disciple, Miss S. E. Waldo of Brooklyn, was his amanuensis, and she says:

“It was inspiring to see the Swami as he dictated to me the contents of the work. In delivering 1iis commentaries on the Sutras, he would leave me waiting while he entered deep stales of meditation or self-contemplation, to emerge therefrom with some luminous interpretation. I had always to keep the pen dipped in the ink. He might be absorbed for long periods of time and then suddenly his silence would be broken by some eager expression or some long deliberate teaching.”

Day after day the Swami was in this constant atmosphere of intense rccollectedness and deep intellectual work, teaching Raja-Yoga, practising it, writing about it. That the Swami maintained the meditative habit throughout his Western life was remarkable ; for the disturbances were innumerable. Oftentimes, whilst those about him were talking vivaciously, it would be noticed that the Swami’s eyes would grow fixed, his breath would come slower and slower till there would be a pause and then a gradual return to consciousness of his environment. It is said of him:

“His friends knew these things and provided for them. If he walked into the house to pay a call and forgot to speak, or if he was found in a room, in silence, no one disturbed him, though he would sometimes rise and render assistance to an intruder, without breaking the train of thought. Thus his interest lay within, and not without. To the scale and range of his thought his conversation was of course our only clue.”

The Swami had already made ardent admirers and even disciples of many distinguished persons. It was his earnest desire to initiate a few as Sannyasins, and to train them so that they would be fitted to carry on his American work in his absence. Two had already become “his proclaimed disciples”, though they had not as yet received actual initiation into Sannyasa. These were Madame Marie Louise and Herr Leon Landsberg. The description of these two followers of the Swami is best given in The New York Herald a few months after they received Sannyasa in the summer of 1895. To cjuote from the paper:

“The Swami Abhayananda is a French woman, but naturalised and twenty-five years resident of New York. She has a curious history. For a quarter of a century she has been known to liberal circles as a materialist, socialist. . . . Twelve months ago she was a prominent member of the Manhattan Liberal Club. Then she was known in the press and on the platform as Mine. Marie Louise, a fearless, progressive, advanced woman, whose boast it was that she was always in the forefront of the battle and ahead of her times.

“The second disciple is also an enthusiast. With skill which Vivekananda shows in all his dealings with men, the Hindu has chosen his first disciples well. I he Swami Kripananda, before he was taken into the circle and took the vows of poverty and chastity, was a newspaper man, employed on the staff of one of the most prominent New York papers. By birth he is a Russian Jew, named Leon Landsberg, and. if it were know’ll, his life history is probably as interesting as that of Swami Abhayananda. …”

Among others who were devoted to the Swami’s teachings were Mrs. Ole Bull, wife of the celebrated violinist and Norwegian nationalist, Dr. Allan Day, Miss S. E. Waldo, Professors Wyman and Wright, Dr. Street, and many clergymen and laymen of note.

Mr. and Mrs. Francis Leggett and Miss J. MacLeod, well-known society people of New York, became his most intimate friends and helped him in various ways. The members of the Dixon Society, before which he was invited many times to lecture, became the champions of his ideas. Later on, the great electrician, Nicolas Tesla, hearing the Swami’s exposition of the Sankhya philosophy, admitted the superiority of its cosmogony and its rational theories of the Kalpas (cycles), Prdna and

Akasa, to which, he said, modem science might well look for the solution of cosmological problems. He assured the Swami that he could prove them mathematically. It was at this time that Sarah Bernhardt, the famous French actress, the “Divine Sarah’’ as she is called, sought an interview with him and expressed her admiration and intense interest in the sublime teachings of the philosophy he so eloquently and so truly represented.1 Later on Madame Calve, the celebrated singer, became his ardent devotee.

It would be interesting to give here the reminiscences of Madame Calve of her first meeting with Swami Vivekananda— and of the profound effect the Swami’s teaching produced upon her life:

“It lias been my good fortune and my jov to know a man who truly ‘walked with God1, a noble being, a saint, a philosopher and a true friend. His influence upon my spiritual life was profound. He opened up new horizons before me, enlarging and unifying my religious ideas and ideals ; leaching me a broader understanding of truth. My soul will bear him eternal gratitude.

“ … .He was lecturing in Chicago one year when I was there ; and as I was at that lime greatly depressed in mind and body, I decided lo go to him, having seen how he had helped some of my friends. An appointment was arranged for me and when I arrived at his house, I was immediately ushered into his study. Before going I had been told not to speak until he addressed me. When I entered the room, I stood before him in silence for a moment. He was seated in a noble attitude of meditation, bis robe of saffron yellow falling in straight lines to the floor, bis head swathed in a turban bent forward, his eyes on the ground. After a pause lie spoke without looking up.

“ ‘My child,’ he said, ‘What a troubled atmosphere you have about you:    Be calm:    It is essential.’

“Then in a quiet voice, untroubled and aloof, this man who did not even knew my name talked to me of my secret problems and anxieties. He spoke of things that I thought were unknown even to my nearest friends. It seemed miraculous, supernatural.

“ ‘How do you know all this?’ I asked at last. ‘Who has talked of me to you?’

“He looked at me with his quiet smile as though I were a child who had asked a foolish question.

1 She met Swamiji in 1896 (See letter dated ISth Feb. 1896).

“ ‘No one has talked to me,’ he answered gently. ‘Do you think that it is necessary? I read in you as in an open book.’

“Finally it was time for me to leave.

“ ‘You must forget,’ he said as I rose. ‘Become gay and happy again. Build up your health. Do not dwell in silence upon your sorrows. Transmute your emotions into some form of eternal expression. Your spiritual health requires it. Your art demands it.’

“I left him, deeply impressed by his words and his personality. He seemed to have emptied my brain of all its feverish complexities and placed there instead his clean and calming thoughts. I became once again vivacious and cheerful, thanks to the effect of his powerful will. He did not use any of the hypnotic or mesmeric influences. It was the strength of his character, the purity and intensity of his purpose that carried conviction. It seemed to me, when I came to know him better, that he lulled one’s chaotic thoughts info a state of peaceful acquiescence, so that one could give complete and undivided attention to his words.

“He often spoke in parables, answering our questions or making his points clear by means of a poetic analogy. One day we were discussing immortality and the survival of individual characteristics. He was expounding his belief in reincarnation which was a fundamental part of his teaching. ‘I cannot bear the idea,’ I explained. ‘I cling to my individuality, unimportant as it may be:    I don’t want to be absorbed into an eternal unity. The mere thought, is terrible to me.’ f*One day a drop of water fell into the vast ocean,’ the Swami answered. ‘When it found itself there, it began to weep and complain just as you are doing. The great ocean laughed at the drop of water. ‘Why do you weep?’ It asked. ‘I do noL understand. When you join me, \ou join all your brothers and sisters, the other drops of water of which I am made. You become the ocean itself. If \ou wish to leave me, you have only to rise up on a sunbeam into the clouds. From there yon can descend again, little drop of water, a blessing and a benediction to the thirsty earth’’

By the month of June, 1895, the Swami had placed his work on a solid foundation. He had constant support from wealthy and influential followers and whatever financial returns he received went towards the further consolidation of his work. Though he was helped, he also helped himself, as has been seen, by giving secular lectures. Not content with the success of his work in America, the Swami, as early as August 1894, meditated a trip to England. He decided that the whole Western world should hear of the glory of the Indian Dharma. Besides his manifold labours and innumerable plans and hopes, he had to make his way constantly explaining himself and his ideas to numerous audiences in which were strangely mingled such opposite types as the hodcarrier and the scientist.

Various moods visited the Swami in the year 1895. This was the year of his hardest work, of his highest hopes, of his greatest endeavours to gain a number of souls of whom he could be sure that they would carry on his work. He went into the very heart of things in his efforts to make some see his vision and become free. He had all manners of plans ; he longed, at times, for an organisation that would represent his ideas and his aspirations. Amidst the enormous difficulty of settling himself in a new land, amidst all the strain of propagating new ideas to those who were bred and brought up in a different ideal of life and religion, the Swami in spite of his indomitable will and vigour sometimes felt worried and exhausted. He was at times led to think that all work was hut a trap of Maya, but he knew that there was no other object in work except personal purification. Thus one finds him writing to a disciple to say that he had done his best, that he was working out the great Karma that had fallen upon him and that he hoped that the Lord would soon liberate him from the task of preaching. And in one of his epistles he cries out, even as early as January’ 1895, “I long, oh, I long for my rags, my shaven head, my sleep under the trees, and my food from begging and in another mood, in the latter part of March of the same year, lie writes, “That is why I desire so much to have a centre. Organisation has its faults, no doubt, but without that nothing can be clone …. One must work as the dictate comes from within, and then if it is right and good, society is bound to veer round, perhaps centuries after one is dead and gone . . . These words show the spirit of the man, burdened with much aflliction, and yet bent on giving his message, bent on working, and yet in the long run indifferent to the fruits. He did not believe in external success. He was truly ready to wait even for centuries.

In the cause of spreading the ideas of the Vedanta, as he himself has said, he was ready to sacrifice everything, even his life. He would work, work, work, But in the very midst of work he would always inwardly rest in the silent and blissful freedom of the life of the true Sannyasiri! He was now in the very rush of the world. He found, however, that even some of his followers, devoted as they might be, interfered unintentionally in the method of carrying out his work. Perhaps some stilted Boston lady would ask him to take elocution lessons, as if he who had shaken the very soul of the Parliament of Religions and was a born teacher of men needed ‘elocution lessons’. Another would worry him about how to organise ; another would say, “Swami, you must do so and so ; you must live in better surroundings, and you must be fashionable so as to reach and influence society people.” At all this the Swami would become fierce with righteous indignation, and exclaim, “Why shall I be bound down with all this nonsense? I am a monk, a monk who has realised the vanity of all earthly nonsense! I have no time to give my manners a finish. I cannot find time enough to give my message. I will give it after my own fashion. Liberty, Mukti, is inv religion. I shall never be dictated to. 1 feel I am guided by the Most High, and as I am guided so shall I do. I don’t care for your sort of success. Shall I be dragged down into the narrow limits of your conventional life? Never!”

In a letter to an esteemed friend the Swami wrote in April:

“Miss H wants me to be introduced to the ‘right kind of people’. This is the second edition of the ‘hold yourself steady’ business, I am afraid. The only ‘right, sort of people’ are those whom the Lord sends—that is what I understand in my life’s experience. They alone can and will help me. As for the rest, Lord bless them in a mass and save me from them!”

Then the Swami went on to say that, even though he lived in poor quarters the right kind of people did come to him, even she who had criticised him. Then he launched forth in an eloquent appeal to Lord Shiva, in which he dedicated himself entirely to the Will of the Lord, writing in his anguish and in his burning love, “Lord, since a child I have taken refuge in Thee. Thou wilt be with me in the tropics or at the poles, on the tops of mountains or in the depths of ocean . . . .” And a few days later he writes, “ . . . The less help from man, the more from the Lord.” And again, three days later, he writes,

“It is the duty of a teacher always to turn out the ‘right sort’ from the most unrighteous sort of persons …. Through the mercy of Ramakrishna my instinct ‘si/cs up’ almost infallibly a human face as soon as I see it . . . .”

The Swami was always grateful for any kindness shown to him. About this time he gave those who had befriended him in his early days in America, rich presents sent to him for this purpose by the Prime Minister of Junagad and the Maharaja of Mysore. Now perhaps it would be a Kashmiri shawl, then a costly Indian carpet, again, a valuable piece of brass or some exquisite silk or muslin. He also wrote to his Indian disciples to send him Rudniksha beads and Kushasanas, which he gave to those initiated disciples who were practising regular meditation.

All through 1895 the Swami’s work was enormous; he was in the very whirlwind of work ; lecturing both privately and publicly, and always at a tension, he began to feel himself wearing out. His nerves were racked, his brain tired, his whole body exhausted. He longed for a brief period of rest and recuperation. Personally he was satisfied. His message was being kindly received, and he had thousands of disciples, many of whom he never even saw. In his rushing hither and thither over the American continent, he had scattered ideas, and he himself saw that they were being echoed in pulpits and in rostrums, though it might be that he received no credit for them. He was satisfied that the ideals of the Sana tana Dharma were spreading and percolating through the whole thought world of America. In July, 1895, he wrote to the Maharaja of Khetri that he was bent on preaching, that the more the Christian missionaries opposed him, the more determined he was to leave a permanent impression on Christian countries. And he stated that his plan was to initiate some of his followers into Sannyasa and have them continue the work.

To have impressed the entire American nation with a new thought was no easy task. And to have done so within two years of work was all the more wonderful. The Swami had, no doubt, the Divine Power behind him ; he had intense sincerity, great ability and unwearying perseverance. Above all, he had Realisation. That was the secret.

Having almost exhausted himself by the uninterrupted work of class and public lecturing, the Swami in the beginning of June, 1895, accepted the invitation of one of his friends and went to Percy, N. H., for a period of rest in the silence of the pine woods. His classes in New York had grown out of all proportions. And yet these classes were to be outdone by the glory and the light of those he was to hold at Thousand Island Park in the immediate future. Before he left for Percy, N. H., his disciples were eager that he should return and continue his work of teaching through the summer months, but being too tired, he demurred to prolonging his work at a tension through the hot weather ; besides, many of his students had arranged to leave Ncw York for seaside or mountain resorts.

The problem however solved itself. One of the students owned a small cottage at Thousand Island Park,1 the largest island in the St. Lawrence River; and she olfered the use of it to the Swami and as many of the students as it would accommodate. This plan appealed to the Swami and he agreed to join the students there after a brief visit to the Maine Camp (Percy, New Hampshire) of one of his friends.

The Swami said that those students who were willing to put aside all other interests and devote themselves to studying the Vedanta, travelling more than three hundred miles to a suitable spot, were the ones really in earnest, and he should recognise them as disciples. He did not expect many would take so much trouble, but if any responded, he would do his share of helping them on the path.

Miss Dutcher, the student to whom the cottage belonged, feeling that a special sanctuary should be prepared for the occasion, built as a true love offering to her Teacher, a new wing that was nearly as large as the original cottage. The place was ideally situated on high ground, overlooking a wide sweep of

1 Wc are indebted to Miss Waldo for the charming description of the Thousand Island Park and of the Swami’s sojourn there the beautiful river with many of its far-famed Thousand Islands, (dayton could be dimly discerned in the distance, while the nearer and wider Canadian shores bounded the view to the north. The cottage stood on the side of a hill, which on the north and west sloped down abruptly towards the shores of the river and of a little inlet that like a small lake lay behind the house. The house was literally “built upon a rock”, and huge boulders lay all around it. The new wing stood on the steep slope of the rocks like a great lantern tower with windows on three sides, three storeys deep at the hack, and only two in front. The lower room was occupied by one of the students. The one over it opened out of the main pari of the house by several doors, and being large and convenient, became the classroom, where for hours each day the Swami gave the students familiar instruction. Over this room was the one devoted exclusively to the use of the Swami. In order that it might be perfectly secluded, Miss Dutcher had supplied it with a separate outside staircase, although there was also a door opening upon the second storey of the piazza.

The upstairs piazza played an important part in the lives of the students as all the Swami’s evening talks were given here. It was wide and roomy, roofed in, and extended along the south and west sides of the cottage. Miss Dutcher had the west side of it carefully screened ofT by a partition, so that none of the strangers who frequently visited the piazza to see the magnificent view it commanded, could intrude upon their privacy. There, close by his own door, sat the beloved Teacher every evening during his stay and communed with the pupils who sat silent in the darkness, eagerly drinking in his inspired words. The place was a veritable sanctuary. At their feet, like a sea of green, waved the leaves of the tree tops, for the entire place was surrounded by thick woods. Not one house of the large village could be seen, it was as if they were in the heart of some dense forest, miles away from the haunts of men. Beyond the trees spread the wide expanse of the St. Lawrence, dotted here and there with islands, some of which gleamed bright with the lights of hotels and boarding-houses. All these were so far away that they seemed more like a pictured scene than a reality. Not a human sound penetrated their seclusion; they heard but the murmur of the insects, the sweet songs of the birds, or the gentle sighing of the wind through the leaves. Part of the time the scene was illumined by the soft rays of the moon and her face was mirrored in the shining waters beneath. In this scene of enchantment, “the world forgetting, by the world forgot*’, the devoted students spent seven blessed weeks with their beloved Teacher, listening to his words of inspiration. Immediately after the evening meal each day of their stay, they all repaired to the upper piazza and awaited the coming of the Swami. Nor had they long to wait, for hardly had they assembled ere the door of his room would open and he would quickly step out and take his accustomed seat. He always spent two hours with them and more often much longer. One glorious night, when the moon was about full, he talked to them until she set below the western horizon, apparently as unconscious as the students were of the lapse of time.

Speaking of the Swami and his stay Miss S. E. Waldo, one of the students, writes:

“To those; who were fortunate: enough lo be there with the Swami, those were weeks of ever-hallowed memory, so fraught were they with unusual opportunity for spiritual growth. No worels can describe what that blissful period meant (and still means) to the devoted little band who followed the Swami from New York to the island in the St. Lawrence, who daily served him with joy and listened to him with heartfelt thankfulness. His whole heart was in his work, and he taught like one inspired.

“Of these talks it was not possible to take notes. They are preserved only in the hearts of the hearers. None of us can ever forget the sense of uplift, the intense spiritual life of those hallowed hours. The Swami poured out all his heart at those times, his own struggles were enacted again before us ; the very spirit of his Master seemed to speak through his lips, to satisfy all doubts, to answer all questioning, to soothe every fear. Many times the Swami seemed hardly conscious of our presence, and then we almost held our breath for fear of disturbing him and checking the flow of his thoughts. He would rise from his seat and pace up and down the narrow limits of the piazza, pouring forth a perfect torrent of eloquence.

“The Swami did not appear to address us directly, but rather seemed to he speaking to himself in words of fire, as it were, so intense were they, and so convincing, burning into the very hearts of his listeners, never to be forgotten.

“Never was lie more gentle, more lovable than during these hours. It may have been much like the way his own great Master taught his disciples, just allowing them to listen to the outpourings of his own spirit in communion with himself.

“It was a perpetual inspiration to live with a man like Swami Vivekananda. From morning till night it was ever the same, we lived in a constant atmosphere of intense spirituality- Often playful and fun-loving, full of merry jest and quick repartee, he was never for a moment far from the dominating note of his life. Everything could furnish a text or an illustration, and in a moment we would find ourselves swept from amusing tales of Hindu mythology to the deepest philosophy. The Swami had an inexhaustible fund of mythological lore, and surely no race is more abundantly supplied with liivths than those ancient Aryans. He loved to tell them to us, and vve were delighted to listen ; for lie never failed to point out the reality hidden under myth and story and to draw from it valuable spiritual lessons. Never had fortunate students greater cause to congratulate themselves on having so gifted a Teacher!

“Those ideas were new and strange to us, and we were slow in assimilating them, hut the Swami’s patience never flagged, his enthusiasm never waned. In the afternoons he talked to 11s more informally, and we took usually a long walk.

“By a singular coincidence just twelve students followed the Swami to Thousand Island Park, and he told us that lie accepted us as real disciples and that was why he so constantly and freely taught 11s, giving us his best. All the twelve were not together at once, ten being the largest number present at any one time. Two of our number subsequently became Sannvasins. . . .

“The ceremony of initiation was impressive from its extreme simplicity. A small altar fire, beautiful flowers and the earnest w’ords of the Teacher alone marked it as different from onr daily lessons. It took place at sunrise of a beautiful summer day and the scene still lives fresh in our memories. . . .

“On the occasion of the consecration of the second Sannyasin, the Swami initiated five of us as Brahmarharins.”

It was decided, when they went to Thousand Island Park, that they should live as a community, each doing his or her share of the house-work in order that no alien presence should mar the serenity of the household. The Swami himself was an accomplished cook and often prepared for them delicious dishes.

Every morning, just as soon as the various tasks were over (and often before), the Swami cafled the students together in the large parlour that served as a class-room and began to teach. Each day he took up some special subject, or expounded from some sacred book, as the Bhagavad-Gita, the Upanishads, or the Vedanta Sutras of Vyasa.

In these morning lessons the point of view presented was sometimes that of pure dualism as represented by Madhva, while on another day it was that of the qualified non-dualism taught by Ramanuja, known as Vishishtadvaita. Most frequently, however, the monistic commentary of Sliankara was taken up ; but because of his subtlety he was more difficult to understand, so to the end Ramanuja remained the favourite among, the students.

Sometimes the Swami took up the Bhakti-Sutras of Narada. They are a short exposition of devotion to God, which gives one some conception of the lofty Hindu ideal of real, all-absorbing love for the Lord, love that literally possesses the devotee to the exclusion of every other thought.

In these talks the Swami for the first time spoke to them at length about Shri Ramakrishna, of his daily life with the Master and of his struggles with his own tendency to unbelief, which at times drew tears from his Master.

As the days and weeks passed by, the students began to really understand and grasp the meaning of what they heard, and they gladly accepted the teaching. Every one of the students there received initiation by Mantra at the hands of the Swami, thus becoming his disciples, the Swami assuming towards them the position of the Guru.

Mrs. Funke speaking of her delightful experience at Thousand Island Park writes as follows:

“We (she and Miss Christine Grecnstidel) had no chance to meet him irr a personal way at the time (during his first visit to Detroit), but we listened and pondered in our hearts over all that we had heard him say, resolving to find him some time, somewhere, even if we had to go across the world to do it. We lost trace of him completely for one year and a half and thought that probably he had returned to India, but one afternoon we were told by a friend that he was still in this country and that he was spending the summer at Thousand Island Park. We started the next morning, resolved to seek him out and ask him to tea eh ns.

“At last alter a weary search we found him. We were feeling very much frightened at our teinerit) in thus intruding upon his privacy, but lie had lighted a fire in our souls that could not be quenched. We must know more of this wonderful man and his teaching. It. was a dark and rainy night, and we were weary alter out long journey, but we could not rest until we had seen him face to face. Would he accept us ? And if lie did not, what then could wc do- ft suddenly seemed to us that it might be a foolish thing to go several hundred miles to find a man who did not even know of our existence, but wc plodded on up the hill in the rain and darkness, with a man we had hired to show us the way with his lantern. Speaking of this in alter years, our (hiru would rclcr to us as ‘my disciples, who travelled hundreds of miles to iind me, and the) came in the night and in the rain.’ We had thought ol what to say 10 him, hut when wc realised that we had really found him, we instantly loigot all our tine speeches, and one of us blurted out, “\vr come from Detroit and Mrs. P. sent us to )ou.‘ The oilier said, ‘We have come to \ou just as we would go to Jesus if He were still on the earth and ask Him to teach us.’ He looked at ns so kindly and said gently, “II only I possessed the power ol the Christ to set you free now!’ He stood for a moment looking thoughtful and then turning to his hostess who was standing near, said. ‘These ladies are from Detroit, please show them upstairs and allow them to spend the evening with us.’ Wc remained until late listening to the Master who paid no more attention to ns, hut as wc bade them all good-night we were told to come the next morning at nine o’clock. Wc arrived promptly, and to our great joy weie accepted by the Master and were cordially invited to become members of the household.”

In a letter to a friend at this time she writes:

“So here we arc—in the very house with Vivekananda, listening to him from 8 o’clock in the morning until late at night. Even in my wildest dreams I could not imagine anything so wonderful, so perfect. To be with Vivekananda! *l‘o be accepted by him! . . .

“Oil, the sublime teaching ol Vivekananda! No nonsense, no talk of ‘astrals,’ “imps,’ but God. Jesus, Buddha. I feel that I shall never be quite the same again for I have caught a glimpse of the Real.

“Just think what it means to listen to a Vivekananda at every meal, lessons each morning and the nights on the porch, the eternal stars shining like ‘patines of bright gold’! In the afternoon, we take long walks, and the Swami literally, and so simply, finds ‘books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good (God) in everything.’ And this same Swami is so merry and fun-loving. We just go mad at times.

“Later. We have been soaring on the Heights, since I last wrote you. Swami tells us to forget that there is any Detroit for the present • that is, to allow no personal thoughts to occupy our minds while taking this instruction. We are taught to sec God in everything from the blade of grass to man—‘even in the diabolical man’.

“Really, it is almost impossible to find time to write here. W’c put up wit It some inconveniences as it is so crowded. There is no time to relax, to rest, for we feel the time is all too short as the Swami leaves soon for England. We scarcely take time to array ourselves properly, so afraid are we of losing some of the precious jewels. 11 is words are like jewels, and all that he says fits together like a wonder-hilly beautiful mosaic. In his talks he may go ever so far afield, but always lie conies back to the one fundamental, vital thing—‘Find God! Nothing else matters.’

“I especially like Miss Waldo and Miss Ellis, although the whole household is interesting. Some unique characters. One, a Dr. Wrighi of (.’ambridge, a very cultured man, creates much merriment at times. He becomes so absorbed in the teaching that he, invariably, at the end of each discourse ends up with asking Swamiji, “Well. Swami. it all amounts to this in the end, doesn’t it ? I am Brahman, I am the Absolute.* If you could only see Swami’s indulgent smile and hear him answer so gently, ‘Yes, l)okie, you are Brahman, you are the Absolute, in the real essence of your being.’ Later, when the learned doctor comes to the table a trifle late. Swami. with the utmost gravity but with a merry twinkle in his eyes, will say, ‘Here comes Brahman’ or ’Here is the Absolute.’

“Swami ji’s fun-making is of the merry type. Sometimes lie will say, ‘Now I am going to cook for you!’ He is a wonderful cook and delights in serving the ‘brithrill*. The food he prepares is delicious hut for ‘yours truly’ too hot with various spices ; but I made up my mind to cat it il it strangled me, which it nearly did. If a Vivekananda can cook for me, 1 guess the least I can do is to eat it. Bless him!

“At such times we have a whirlwind of fun. Swamiji will stand on the floor with a white napkin draped over his arm, a la the waiters cm the dining cars, and will intone in perfect imitation their call for dinner— “Last call lb* the dinning cah. Dinner served.’’—Irresistibly funny. And then, at table, such gales of laughter over some quip or jest, for he unfailingly discovers the little idiosyncrasies of each one—but never sarcasm or malice—just fun.

“Since my last letter to you when I told you of Swamiji’s capacity for merriment so many little things have occurred to make one see how varied are the aspects of Vivekananda. We are trying to take notes of all that he says, but / find myself lost in listening and forget: the notes. His voice is wondrously beautiful. One might well lose oneself in its divine music. However, dear Miss Waldo is taking very full notes of the lessons, and in that way they will be preserved.

“Some good fairy must have presided at our birth—Christine’s and mine. Wc do not, as yet, know much of Karma and Reincarnation, but we are beginning to sec that both are involved in our being brought into touch with Swamiji.

’ Sometimes I ask him rather daring questions, for I am so anxious to know just how he would react under certain conditions. He takes it so kindly when I in my impulsive way sometimes ‘rush in where angels fear to tread*. Once he said to some one. ’Mrs. l’unke tests me. she is no naive.’ Wasn’t that dear of him?

“One evening, when it was raining and we were all sitting in the living room, the Swami was talking about pure womanhood and told us the story of Sita. Hoiv he can tell a story! You see it and all the characters become real. I found myself wondering just how some of the beautiful society queens of the West would appear to him—especially those versed in the art of allurement -and before I took time to think, out popped the question and immediately I was covered with confusion. The Swami. however, looked at me calmly with his big, serious eyes and gravely replied, ‘If the most beautiful woman in the world were to look at me in an immodest or unwomanly way, she would immediately turn into a hideous, green frog, and one docs not, of course, admire frogs!’ . . .

“Now he has closed the class for the morning, and he has turned to me, ‘Mrs. Funke, tell me a funny story. We are going to part soon, and we must talk funny things, isn’t it?’ Alas, he leaves on Monday. . . .

“We take long walks every afternoon, and our favourite walk is back of the cottage down a hill and then a rustic path to the river. . . . Sometimes we stop several times and sit around on the grass and listen to Swami’s wonderful talks. A bird, a flower, a butterfly, will start him off, and he will tell us stories from the Vedas or recite Indian poetry. I recall that one poem started with the line. ‘Her eyes are like the black bee on the lotus.’ He considered most of our poetry to be obvious, banal, without the delicacy of that of his own country.

“Wednesday, August 7th. Alas, he has departed! Swamiji left this evening at 9 o’clock on the steamer for Clayton where he will take the train for New York and from there sail for England.

“The last day has been a very wonderful and precious one. This morning there was no class. He asked C. and me to take a walk as he wished to be alone with us. (The others had been with him all summer, and he felt we should have a last talk.) Wc went up a hill about half a mile away. All was woods and solitude. Finally he selected a low-branchcd tree, and we sat under the low-spreading branches.    Instead of the expected talk, he suddenly said, ‘Now we will meditate. We shall be like Buddha under the Bo Tree.” He seemed to turn to bronze, so still was he. Then a thunder-storm came up, and it poured. He never noticed it. I raised my umbrella and protected him as much as possible. Completely absorbed in his meditation, lie was oblivious of everything. Soon we heard shouts in the distance. Tlie others had come out alter us with raincoats and umbrellas. Swamiji looked around regretfully, for we had to go, and said, ’Once more am I in Calcutta in the rains.’

“He was so tender and sweet all this last day. As the steamer rounded the bend in the river, he boyishly and joyously waved his hat to us in larcwell and he had departed indeed.’’

Sister Christine (Miss Christine Greenstidel) speaking of these days at Thousand Island Park writes:

“All that, winter the work went on, and when the season came to an end, early in the summer, this devoted group was not willing to have    the    teaching discontinued.    One of them    owned a    house in

Thousand Island Park on the St. Lawrence River, and a proposal was made to the teacher that they all spend the summer there. He consented, much touched by their earnestness, lie wrote to one of his friends that he wanted to manufacture a lew Yogis out of the materials of the classes. He felt that his work was now really started and    that    those    who joined him    at Thousand    Islands were really disciples. . . .

“Early in June three or four were gathered at Thousand Island Park with him and the teaching began without delay. We came on Saturday, July 6, 1895. Swami Vivekananda had planned to initiate several ol‘already there on Monday. ‘I don’t, know you well enough yet to feel sure that you are ready for initiation,’ he said on Sunday afternoon. Then he added rather shyly, ‘I have a power which I seldom use—the power of reading the mind. If you will permit me, I should like to read your mind, as I wish to initiate you with the others tomorrow.’ We assented joyfully. Evidently he was satisfied with the result of the reading, for the next day, together with several others, he gave us a Mantra and made us his disciples. Afterwards, questioned as to what he saw while he was reading our minds he told us a little. He saw that we should he faithful and that we should make progress in our spiritual life. He described something of what he saw, without giving the interpretation of every picture. In one case, scene after scene passed before his mental vision which meant that there would be extensive travel apparently in Oriental countries. He described the very houses in which we should live, the people who should surround us, the influences that would affect our lives. We questioned him about this. He told us it could be acquired by anyone. The method was simple at least in the telling. First, think of space—vast, blue extending everywhere. In time, as one meditates upon this space intently, pictures appear. These pictures must be interpreted. Sometimes one sees the pictures but does not know the interpretation. He saw that one of us would be indissolubly connected with India. Important as well as minor events were foretold for ns nearly all of which have conic to pass, in this reading, the quality of the personality was revealed—the mettle, the capacity, the character. Having passed this tcM, there can he no selldepreciation, no lack of faith in one’s self, liven momentary doubt is replaced by a serene assurance. Has the personality not received the stamp of approval from the one being in the wot Id . . .?

‘Of the wonderful weeks that followed, it is difficult to write. Only if one’s mind were lifted to that high state ol consciousness in which we Ihed for the time, could we hope to recapture the experience. We were tilled with joy. We did not know at that time that we were living in his radiance. On the wings of inspiration, he carried 11s to the height which was his natural abode. He himself, speaking of it later, said that he was at his best in Thousand Inlands. Then he felt that he had found the channel through which his message might he spread, the way to fulfil his mission, for the Guru had found his own disciples. His first overwhelming desire was to show us the path to Mukti, to set us free. ‘Ah’, he said with touching pathos, ‘If I could only set you free with a touch!’ His second object, not so apparent perhaps, hut always in the undercurrent, was to train this group to carry on the work in America. On his own little \erandali, overlooking the tree tops and the beautiful St. Lawrence, he often called upon us to make speeches. Tt was a trying ordeal. Each in turn was called upon to make an attempt. There was no escape’. At these intimate evening gatherings often he soared to the greatest height as the night advanced. What if it was two o’clock in the morning? What it wc had watched the moon rise and set? Time and space had vanished for us.

“There was nothing set or formal about these nights on the upper \crandah. He sat in his large chair at the end, near his door. Sometimes he went into a deep meditation. At such times we too meditated or sat in profound silence. Often it lasted for hours and one after the other slipped away. For we knew that after this he would not feel inclined to speak. Or again the meditation woidd be short, and he would encourage us to ask questions afterwards, often calling on one of us to answer. No matter how far wrong these answers were, he let us flounder about until we were near the truth, and then in a few words, he would dear up the difficulty. This was his invariable method in teaching. He knew how to stimulate the mind of the learner and make it do its own thinking. Did wc go to him for confirmation of a new idea or point of view and begin, ‘I see it is thus and so.’ his ‘Yes?’ with an upper inflection always .sent us hack for further thought. Again we would come with a more clarified understanding and again the ‘Yes?’ stimulated us to further thought. Perhaps after the third time when the capacity lor further thought along that particular line was reached, he would point out the error–an error usually due to something in our Western mode of thought. And so he trained us with such patience, such benignity. It was like a benedict ion.

“It was a strange group -these people whom lie had gathered around him that summer at Thousand Islands. No wonder the shopkeeper to whom we went for direction upon our arrival, said, ‘Yes, there are some queer people living up on the hill, among whom is a foreign-looking gentleman.’ There were three friends who had come to the Swami’s New York classes together—Miss S. E. Waldo, Miss Ruth Ellis, and Doctor Wight. For thirty years, they had attended every lecture on philosophy that they had heard of, hut had never found anything that even remotely approached this. So Doctor Wight gravely assured us, the newcomers ….

“. . . . We in out retirement seldom saw anyone except now and then someone who came lor the view. The conditions were ideal for our purpose. One could not have believed that such a spot could he found in America. What great ideas were voiced there! What an atmosphere was created, what power was generated! There the Teacher reached some of his loftiest llights, there he showed us his heart and mind. We saw’ ideas unfold and flower. We saw the evolution of plans which grew into institutions in the years that followed. It was a blessed experience–an experience which made Miss Waldo exclaim, ‘What have we ever done to deserve this?’ And so we all felt.

“The original plan was that they should live as a community, without servants, each doing a share of the work. Nearly all of them were unaccustomed to housework and found it uncongenial. The result was amusing ; as time went on, it threatened to become disastrous. Some of us who had just been reading the story of Brook Farm felt that we saw it re-enacted before our eyes. No wonder Emerson refused to join that community of transcen-dcntalistsl His serenity was evidently bought at a price. Some could only wash dishes. One whose work was to cut the bread, groaned and all but wept whenever she attempted the task. It is curious how character is tested in these little things. Weaknesses which might have been hidden for a lifetime in ordinary intercourse, were exposed in a day of this community life. It was interesting. With Swamiji the effect was quite different. Although only one among them all was younger than himself, he seemed like a father or rather like a mother in patience and gentleness. When the tension became too great, he would say with the utmost sweetness, ‘Today,

I shall cook for you.’ To this Landsberg would ejaculate in an aside, ‘Heaven save us!* By way of explanation lie said that in New York when Swamiji cooked he, Landsberg. would tear his hair, because it meant that afterwards every dish in the house required washing. After several unhappy experiences in the community housekeeping, an outsider was engaged for help, and one or two of the more capable ones undertook certain responsibilities, and we had peace.

“But once the necessary work was over and we had gathered in the class room, the atmosphere was changed. There never was a disturbing element within those walls. It seemed as if we had left the body and the bodily consciousness outside. We sat in a semi-circle and waited. Which gate to the Eternal would be opened for us today? What heavenly vision should meet our eyes? There was always the thrill of adventure. The l-ndiseovered Country, the Sorrowless Land opened up new vistas of hope and beauty. Even so, our expectations were always exceeded. Viveka-nanda’s flights carried us with him to supernal heights. Whatever degree of realisation may or may not have come to us since, one thing we can never forget: We saw the Promised Land. We, too, were taken to the top of Pisgah and the sorrow and trials of this world have never been quite real since.

“. . . . When he saw how deep the impression was which lie had made, he would say with a smile. ‘The cobra has bitten you. You cannot escape.’ Or sometimes, I have caught you in my net. Yon can never get out.’

“Miss Dutcher, our hostess, was a conscientious little woman, a devout Methodist. How she ever came to be associated with such a group as gathered in her house that summer would have been a mystery to anyone who did not know the power of Swami Vivekananda to attract and hold sincere souls. But having once seen and heard him, what could one do but follow? Was he not the Incarnation of the Divine, the Divine which lures man on until he finds himself again in his lost kingdom? But the road was hard and often terrifying to one still bound by conventions and orthodoxy in religion. All her ideals, her values of life, her concepts of religion were, it seemed to her, destroyed. In reality, they were only modified. Sometimes she did not appear lor two or three days. ‘Don’t you see,’ Swami said, ‘this is not an ordinary illness? It is the reaction of the body against the chaos that is going on in her mind. She cannot bear it.’ The most violent attack came one day after a timid protest on her part against something he had said in the class. ‘The idea of duty is the midday sun of misery scorching the very soul,’ he had said. ‘Is it not our duty.’ she began, but got no farther. For once that great free soul broke all bounds in his rebellion against the idea that anyone should dare bind with fetters the soul of man. Miss Dutcher was not seen for some days. And so the process of education went on. It was not difficult il one’s devotion to the Guru was great enough, for then, like the snake, one dropped the old and put on the new. But where the old prejudices and conventions were stronger than one’s faith, it was a terrifying, almost a devastating process.

‘‘For the first time we understood why all religions begin with ethics. For without truth, non-injury, continence, non-stealing, cleanliness, austerity, there can be no spirituality ….

“Continence-Chastity:    This subject always stirred him deeply. Walking up and down the room, getting more and more excited, he would stop before some one as if there were no one else in the room. ‘Don’t you see,’ he would say eagerly, ‘there is a reason why chastity is insisted on in all monastic orders?’ Spiritual giants are produced only where the vow of chastity is observed. Don’t you see there must be a reason? The Roman Catholic Church has produced great saints, St. Francis of Assisi, Ignatius Loyola, St. Theresa, the two Katharines and many others. The Protestant Church has produced no one of spiritual rank equal to them. There is a connection between great spirituality and chastity. The explanation is that these men and women have through prayer and meditation transmuted the most powerful force in the body into spiritual energy. In India this is well understood and Yogis do it consciously. The force so transmuted is called Ojas and is stored up in the brain. It has been lifted from the lowest centre of the Kundalini—the Muladliara— to the highest.’ To us who listened, the words came to our remembrance:    And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me.’

“. . . . How touchingly earnest Swami Vivekananda was as he proposed this subject, lie seemed to plead with us as if beg us to act upon this teaching as something most precious. More, we could not be the disciples he required if we were not established in this. He demanded a conscious transmutation. ‘The inan who has no temper has nothing to control,’ he said. ‘I want a few, five or six who are in the (lower of their youth.’ . . .

“It is needless to repeat the formal teaching, the great central idea. These one can read for onescll. But there was something else, an influence, an atmosphere charged with the desire to escape from bondage —call it what you will—that can never be put into words, and yet was more powerful than any words. It was this which made us realise that we were blessed beyond words. To hear him say, ‘This indecent clinging to life,* drew aside the curtain for us into the region beyond life and death, and planted in onr hearts the desire for that glorious freedom. We saw a soul struggling to escape the meshes of    one to whom the body was an intolerable bondage, not only a limitation but a degrading humiliation. ‘A/ad, Azild, the Free,’ he cried, pacing up and down like a caged lion. Yes, like the lion in the cage who found the bars not of iron but of bamboo. ‘Let us not be caught this time,’ would be his refrain another day ….

“We seemed to be in a different world. The end to he attained was Freedom—afreedom from the bondage in which Maya has caught us, in which Mayd has enmeshed all mankind. Sooner or later the opportunity to escape will come to all. Ours had come. From these days every aspiration, every desire, every struggle was directed towards this one purpose— consciously by our Teacher, blindly, unconsciously by us, following the influence he created.*’

Wednesday, June 19, marked the beginning of the regular teaching given daily by the Swami to his group oa disciples at Thousand Island Park. He came on this first morning with the Bible in his hand and opened it at the Book of John, saying that since the students were all Christians, it was proper that he should begin with the Christian Scriptures. With August 6, ended these beautiful lessons and on the following day he left for New’ York.

Though all the talks of the Swami during his stay at Thousand Island Park were not written down, some were, and these have been embodied in hwoh-form. known as Inspired Talks. It is to Miss Waldo that the followers of the Swami are indebted for these immortal words and the title of the book lias been well chosen, for they were indeed inspired. The Swami threw light upon all manner of subjects, historical and philosophical, spiritual and temporal. It was as if the contents of his nature were pouring themselves forth as a grand revelation of the many-sidedness of the Eternal Truth. Certainly the seven weeks at the Thousand Island Park were one of the freest and the greatest periods in the Swami’s life. He was there in the uninterrupted stillness of the island retreat, in an atmosphere similar to that in which his Master had lived and taught in the Dakshineswar days of old. And there on the banks of the St. Lawrence, in a mood of supreme ecstas\, one day, he entered while meditating into the Nirvikalpa Samadhi as he had done in the days of blessed memory at Cossipore. Though at the time he spoke of it to no one he reckoned this experience as one of the most exalted in his life. The whirlwind of spiritual rliapsod) and ecstasy that has swept the souls of devotees in Dakshineswar on the bank of the Ganga, swept here anew the souls of other devotees in the island retreat of the beautiful St. Lawrence river, and the spirit of the Master and the realisation of the Swami burned constantly in vast, ignorance-destroying flames.

Just before leaving New York for Thousand Island Park the Swami had received an invitation to visit the Greenacre Conferences, hut he declined. The reason of this one finds in a letter written to a friend in which he says that he intends “to manufacture a few Yogis out of the materials of the classes and a busy fair like Greenacre is the last place for that”. Therefore he had decided to go to the St. Lawrence retreat. For his work at Thousand Island Park, his short stay at Percy, New Hampshire, evidently fitted him. There in the silence of the pines he read the Gita, meditated alone in the stillness of the forest for hours and days together. His one idea was to be by himself in communion with the Highest; and therefore it was little wonder that he came forth from the solitude a very avalanche of spirituality, making his disciples realise many forms of Truth at but a glance or touch or wish.

In the autumn of 1895, following upon his Thousand Island work, the Swami is seen writing to Swami Abhayananda concerning organisation. Dissatisfied with those who mistook what he meant by the term organisation in his letter, and who did not catch the spirit, thinking, perhaps, that he wanted to “make a success” of his work, he wrote:

“We have no organisation, nor want to build any. Each one is quite independent to teach, quite free to preach whatever he or she likes.

“If you have the spirit within, you will never fail to attract others ….

“Individuality is my motto. I have no ambition beyond training individuals. I know very little : that little I teach without reserve ; where

I am ignorant I confess it as such…..I am a Sannyasin, As such I hold

myself as a servant, not as a master in this world,”

And he adds that whether people love him or hate him, they all are alike welcome. He says that he seeks no help, nor rejects any, that he has no right to be helped and that if he is helped by others it is their mercy. He avers that when he became a Sannyasin he did so with his whole mind, welcoming anything, even starvation and the utmost misery.

Gradually his disciples came to understand his ideal. Possessed with the Western consciousness of the necessity of external organisation, it took some time for them to see that what he desired was a spiritual rather than a temporal organisation, a union of noble, pure, persevering and energetic souls, bent on personal realisation and moved to work by a genuine interest and love for humanity. He had carried on his work in this spirit, and already it had assumed large proportions. In a letter to a distinguished Indian he said, in the glory of his realisations at the Thousand Island Park, “I arn free, my bonds are cut, what care I whether this body goes or does not go? … . I have a truth to teach, I, the child of God. And Pie that gave me the truth will send me fellow-workers from the Earth’s bravest and best.” Now and then the monk would come out in protest against his surroundings and distraction. His poem, The Song of the Sannyasin. considered by some to be his masterpiece, was written in a state of spiritual fervour and in protest to one who interfered with his life, trying to dictate terms to him. He had received a letter, criticising his determination to work among the people instead of among the rich ; and as an answer he sent back by return mail, The Song of the Sannyasin. Three verses selected from this poem afford an insight into the ardour and the power of the Swami’s spirit of Sannyasa and of his realisation.

Strike off thy fetters! Bonds that bind thee down,

Of shining gold, or darker, baser ore ;

Love, hale—good, bad—and all the dual throng.

Know, slave is slave, caressed or whipped, not free ;

For fetters though of gold, are not less strong to bind ;

Thus be thou calm, Sannyasin bold! Say—

“Om Tat Sat, Om!”

Heed then no more how body lives or goes,

Its task is done. Let Karma float it down ;

Let one put garlands on, another kick

This frame ; say naught. No praise or blame can be

Where praiser, praised—and blamer, blamed—are one.

Thus be thou calm, Sannyasin bold! Say—

“Om Tat Sat, Om!”

Few only know the Truth. The rest will hate

And laugh at thee, great one ; but pay no heed.

Go thou, the free, from place to place,

and help Them out of darkness, Maya’s veil. Without 

The fear of pain or search for pleasure, go 

Beyond them both, SannyAsin bold! Say—

“Om Tat Sat, Om!”

THE FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND

Having fulfilled his great work of training and initiating disciples at Thousand Island Park, the Swami returned to New York, where he made preparations to sail for England. He had long held the idea of going to London as a missionary of Hinduism and had been invited by Miss Henrietta Muller to be her guest. Mr. E. T. Sturdy, hearing that he was coining, wrote a cordial letter asking him to come and live with him. He assured him that there was a great field for his work in London and that he would do everything in his power to help the work on. One of the Swanii’s New York friends invited him to join him in a tour to Paris and to England. Seeing that things were opening lip for him he seized this opportunity to carry to England and to the English people that same great message which he had preached in America and which had aroused the foremost thinkers and representatives of American life and culture to a new order of thought and to a new spiritual outlook.

The Swami needed rest, and he thought that an ocean voyage would be a restorative to tired nerves and an exhausted brain. Therefore, in the middle of August, he sailed from New York, reaching Paris in the latter part of the month. The trip delighted him ; now he was in Paris, the centre of European culture. He made the most of his brief stay by visiting its museums, its churches, its cathedrals, its art galleries, and was pleased to see how highly the artistic instincts of the French nation were developed. He was introduced to some of the enlightened friends of his host, with whom he discoursed on subjects which ranged from the highest spiritual to the most learned studies. They became his friends and enjoyed his company, for in himself he was historian, philosopher, wit and entertainer. As was his custom everywhere, in his short stay in Paris he acquired as much information as possible, asking, studying, and observing the culture of the West.

But even though he came to Paris for recreation, thoughts of work crossed 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, criticising his life, his teaching and his conduct. Evidently the missionaries had been criticising his diet in the West and many of the Hindus who had read this became opposed to the Swami and attacked him in strong terms. Naturally he was vexed, and so he writes from Paris on the day previous to his departure for London, to say:

. . I am surprised you take the missionaries’ nonsense so seriously. … If the people in India wmiu 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 arebig liars ….

‘‘As for me. mind yon. I stand at nobody’s dictation. I know my mission in life, and no chauvinism about ine ; I belong as much to the world as to India, no humbug about that …. What country has any special claim on me? Am I any nation’s slave? . . .

“. . . . I see a greater Power than man, or God, or devil, at my back. I require nobody’s help. I have spent all my life helping others. . . .

“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

This letter, written on September 9, shows the Swami in a strong light. By this time missionary activity against the Swami had reached a high pitch. But the Swami was a strong man, and he could be a strong adversary when necessary. He had to he this, for otherwise his religion, his people, his name and his teaching would have been overthrown by cynical or malicious critics. He had literally to fight, his way for recognition. And when his character was attacked, he was, for the sake of his teaching, unequivocal in his replies. Oftentimes, however, the Swami felt like a child, and he 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, and when asked the reason he 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!’’ Kvcii many of the Christian clerics were up in arms against the bigoted and slanderous statements which so-called Christian propagandists were heaping upon one whom every fair-minded Christian called “Our Eastern Brother’’.

Now he was bound for England! He was filled with expectations and anticipation. In America he had often dreamt of visiting the great metropolis of London. He wondered how the British public would receive him—a Hindu belonging to a subject race, come to preach his religion to them. But this wonder was shortly to give place to a still greater wonder— namely, his unbounded and immediate success. He was received by friends, among them being Mr. Sturdy, and Miss Henrietta Miiller whom he had met in America. He soon found himself accommodated now in one and then in another of the homes of his friends. After a few days’ rest he commenced work in a quiet way. During the day he paid visits to every place of historic or artistic interest, in the mornings and often in the late evenings he held classes and gave interviews. His reputation spread at once. Visitors poured in. He received numerous invitations; and within three weeks of his arrival he found himself engaged in strenuous work. He was interviewed by several of the leading journals, among them being The Westminster Gazette, and The Standard which spoke of him and of his teaching in highly complimentary terms.

The Swami’s work, though intended to be mostly of a private character, soon assumed a public aspect, as the notices incorporating his teaching, that appeared from time to time in the daily journals, attest. People came in numbers to meet the Hindu Yogi, as he was called in London. One of the Swami’s

great friends at this time, who introduced him to numerous persons and immensely assisted him in forming his classes and propagating the Vedanta teaching, was Mr. E. T. Sturdy, a man who had long been interested in Indian thought and, indeed, had been in India and undergone severe asceticism in a hill-station in the Himalayas. He was a man of means and learning and position, and his name lent weight among the ciicle of his friends who went to the Swami’s classes. Among the early visitors to the Swami’s class-rooms was Lady Isabel Margesson and several of the nobility. The Swami worked day in and day out, even as he had done in New York, without respite, giving his whole spirit to those who came to be taught.

Feeling that the London public should hear his philosophy expounded to them, his friends arranged to have him give a public lecture at Princes’ Hall, Piccadilly, one of the most fashionable places in the metropolis, on the evening of October 22. And here the Swami delivered his address on “Self-Knowledge”. When he rose to speak that night, lie faced a large gathering of people, representing all walks of life and some of the best thinkers in London. The lecture was a tremendous success, and the next morning the journals were Idled with complimentary comments. The Standard wrote:

“Since the days of Ram Mohan Roy, with the single exception of Keahab Chundra Sen, there has not appeared on an English platform a more interesting Indian figure than the Hindu who lectured in Princes* Hall …. In the course of his lecture, he made some remorselessly disparaging criticism on the work that factories, engines, and other inventions and books were doing for man, compared with half-a-dozen words spoken by Buddha or Jesus. The lecture was evidently quite extemporaneous, and was delivered in a pleasing voice free from any kind of hesitation.”

The London Daily Chronicle wrote:

“Vivekananda, the popular Hindu monk, whose physiognomy bore the most striking resemblance to the classic face of Buddha, denounced our commercial prosperity, our bloody wars, and our religious intolerance, declaring that at such a price the mild Hindu would have none of our vaunted civilisation.’’

Under tne title, “An Indian Yogi in London,” The minster Gazette wrote, following upon an interview of one of its correspondents with the Swami:

“. . . The Swami Vivekananda is a striking figure with his turban (or mitre-shaped cap) and his calm but kindly leaturcs …. His face lights up like that ol’ a child, it is so simple, straightforward and honest.”

The interviewer held a long discussion with the Swami wherein the latter told him why he had renounced the world and adopted the Sannyasin’s life. The Swami mentioned the name of his Master, and said that he liad come to organise no sect, to teach no sectarian doctrine, but to give the general outlines of the universal principles of the Vedanta and to let each apply them to his own concrete forms. He said, “I am the exponent of no occult societies, nor do I believe that good can come of such bodies. Truth stands on its own authority, and truth can bear the light of day.” The correspondent of the Gazette wrote of all the Swarm’s ideals and of his brilliant success in America, and concluded by remarking, ”1 then took my leave from one of the most original of men that I have had the honour of meeting.” Thus the London public were informed of the Swami’s being a monk and a teacher, and scores gathered at his quarters, seeking instruction, or desiring to satisfy their curiosity.

It was a novel and satisfying experience for the Swami to have the English people endorse his teaching and his character by this demonstration of enthusiasm. And though his stay in London was hardly more than a month from this lecture, he succeeded in making a deep and lasting impression upon those whom he met. Among these was Miss Margaret Noble, who later on was known as Sister NiveditS. She was struck with the novelty and the breadth of his religious culture and the intellectual freshness of his philosophical outlook, as also with the fact that “his call was sounded in the name of that which was strongest and finest, and was not j# any way dependent on* the meaner elements in man”. Both before she met him, and for some time after, Miss Noble was highly interested in educa-25 tional work, being the Principal of a school of her own, and was one of the conspicuous members of the Sesame Club, founded for the furtherance of educational purposes. She moved in quiet but distinguished intellectual circles and was deeply interested in all modern influences and thought. She weighed, the Swami’s words in the balance and at first found some difficulty in accepting his views ; but this, in the Swami’s eyes, was a sign of the power of true penetration, for he knew that though now she might hesitate, when she would once accept, there would be no more ardent champion of his ideas than she. It required many months, she herself confesses, for her to accept the Swami’s philosophy in toto.

Miss Noble pondered for a long time upon the Swami’s words ; and before he left England for America she already called him “Master”. The description of her first meeting with the Swami is charming. She writes:

“Even in far away London indeed, the first time I saw him, the occasion must have stirred in his mind, as it docs in mine, recalling it now. a host of associations connected with his own sunstccped land. The time was a cold Sunday afternoon in November, and the place, it is true, a West-end drawing-room. But he was seated, lacing a half-circle of listeners, with the fire on the hearth behind him, and as he answered question after question, breaking now and then into the chanting of some Sanskrit text in illustration of his reply, the scene must have appeared to him, while twilight passed into darkness, only as a curious variant upon the Indian garden, or on the group of hearers gathered at sundown round the Sadhu who sits beside the well, or under the tree outside the village-bounds. Never again in England did I see the Swami as a teacher, in such simple fashion. Later, he was always lecturing, or the questions he answered were put with formality by members of larger audiences. Only this first time wc were but fifteen or sixteen guests, intimate friends many of us, and he sat amongst us, in his crimson robe and girdle, as one bringing us news from a far land, with a curious habit of saying now and again ‘Shiva! Shiva and wearing that look of mingled gentleness and loftiness, that one sees on the faces of those who live much in meditation, that look, perhaps, that Raphael has painted for us, on the brow of the Sistine Child.

“That afternoon is now ten years ago, and fragments only of the talk come hack to me. But never to be forgotten are the Sanskrit verses that he chanted for us, in those wonderful Eastern tones, at once so reminiscent of, and yet so different from, the Gregorian music of our own churches.”

In the many talks and private lectures which the Swami gave in some of the aristocratic houses and before several clubs during his first stay in London, he invariably discoursed on the important tenets of the Hindu Faith, and especially of the Vedanta philosophy. As in America, so here also in his London conversations, he found himself besieged with questions of various character, and invariably he was the same brilliant wit and master of repartee and spiritual teacher. He would oftentimes express his lack of confidence in the Western conception of religious organisation and its love of, and dependence upon money, as opposed to the Hindu idea of absolute freedom in religious belief and pursuits and its glorification of Renunciation.

The lectures and talks of the Swami were sometimes thrilling and always illuminating in their character. Probably no other instance sets forth his eloquence and spirit more clearly than that which occurred in a West-end drawing-room where he lectured one evening to a highly cultural audience, composed mostly of fashionable young mothers. He was speaking on the greatness of the path of Love, showing to what heights of selflessness it leads and how it draws out the very best faculties of the soul. In elucidating his remarks, he said, “Suppose, a tiger should suddenly appear before you in the streets. How tcrror-itricken you would be, and how eager you would all be to fly away for your very lives ! But”—and his tone became changed and his face of a sudden lighted up with that strength and fearlessness which the spiritual fire alone endows in its fullest measure—“suppose, there were a baby in the path of the tiger 1 Where would your place be then? At the mouth of the tiger— any one of you—I am sure of it.” His hearers were carried away by this splendid remark, at once a compliment to the possibilities within them and with the power of arousing their very highest spiritual nature. It was such characteristics as these—his immense personal magnetism, his directness, his lucidity, his vision—which gave convincing power to his utterances, and which bound indissolubly to himself, here, there and everywhere, large groups of the very finest and the most devout disciples. The remarkable way in which he classified religious ideas, the great breadth of his intellectual and spiritual culture, the newness and profundity of his ideas, the great ethical import attached to all he said, and, finally, his strength, manliness and fearlessness of spirit, each and all of these were bound to create an indelible impression.

In his first visit to London was laid an unshakable foundation for any future work he might find it fit to initiate. When he intended to visit England, he thought it would be “only to feel the ground” ; but when he was once there, he found that his visit was not experimental but practically and immensely successful, beyond all anticipation. The Press had welcomed and heralded his ideas; some of the most select clubs of the city and even some leaders of its prominent clerical institutions had invited him and received him with marked admiration. He was moving in the best circles of English society and even members of the nobility were glad to reckon him as their friend. This completely revolutionised his idea of English men and women. In America he found that the public was most enthusiastic and responsive in taking up new ideas ; but in England he discovered that though his hearers were more conservative in their declarations of acceptance and praise, they were all the more fervent and staunch, once they had convinced themselves of the worth of a teacher and his ideas. Before he left London to return to America and take up the threads of work there, he had the joyous satisfaction of being able to count many as his sincere friends and earnest supporters. In the middle of November he himself wrote to a disciple in Madras, saying:

“. . . . In England my work is really splendid. . . . Bands and bands come and I have no room for so many ; so they squat on the floor, ladies and all. … I shall have to go away next week, and they are so sorry. Some think my work here will be hurt a little if I go away so soon. I do not think so. I do not depend on men or things. The Lord alone I depend upon—and He works through me.

“. . . . I am really tired from incessant work. Any other Hindu would have died if he had to work as hard as I have to. … I want to go to India for a long rest. . . .”

A correspondent of a daily journal, who attended the class lectures of the Swami writes:

‘ ‘It is indeed a rare sight to see some of the most fashionable ladies in London seated on the floor cross-legged, of course, for want of chairs, listening with all the Bhakti of an Indian Chela towards his Guru. The love and sympathy for India that the Swamiji is creating in the minds of the English-speaking race is sure to be a lower of strength for the progress of India.”

In the very midst of his English work, however, the Swami was receiving many letters, saying that the opportunity for American work was on the increase, and begging him to return to America for the sake of his disciples there. His English friends, on the other hand, were urging him to remain and to settle permanently in the metropolis. But he thought it would be best to give the seeds sown in London time to germinate. Besides, he felt that he was being called by the Lord, lie promised to return to England in the following summer and continue the work begun there. He was gratified with what lie said the Lord had accomplished through him and with a new spirit and renewed enthusiasm he turned his face again to the group of ardent followers in America. A rich Boston lady had promised to support his work throughout the coming winter in New York, and everything seemed bright and prosperous. Before he left, he advised those who were more particularly interested in his teaching to form themselves into a body and to meet regularly for the purpose of reading the Bhagavad-Gita, and other Hindu scriptures. Mr. E. T. Sturdy, writing to the Brahmavadin, in the month of February, 1896, of the Swami’s visit to England, says:

“The visit of the Swami Vivekananda to England has demonstrated that there exists a thoughtful, educated body of people here, which has only to be found and properly approached, to benefit very largely from the lilc-giving stream of Indian thought. . . .

“. . . . Again, from pulpit utterances, making reference to Swami Vivekananda’s expositions here, it was not difficult to see how, through him, some of the more open-minded of the Western clergy, who were fortunate enough to meet him, were able to make application, to their own system of religion, of pure Vedanta teachings …. Swami Viveka-nanda’s classes drew together considerable numbers from the various ranks of English life. The great majority of these carried away with them a clear conviction of his capacity as a teacher. Upon his return to America, in order to keep together the introductory work thus accomplished, classes were set on foot for the reading and study of the Bhagavad-Gita and other kindred subjects …. These classes continue. . . . No introduction is needed. … No society is formed, or will be formed, nor is any money consideration accepted . . . .”

The Swami’s success was due to his great art of presenting the supreme insight which he possessed. The above writer has expressed it well when, speaking of the Swami’s coming, he says in continuation, . . But at length arrived on our shores a Yogi coming with love in his heart and the tradition of ages in his memory. . . In the course of a single interview the Swami would often present to the audience a series of new ideas for the basis of a broad and all-inclusive spiritual life. In some instances literally an intellectual upheaval was created by his profound remarks on the metaphysics of the Vedanta ; and many of his hearers admitted that it had never before fallen to their lot to meet with a thinker who in one short hour was able to express all that was very highest in the way of religious thought.

ESTABLISHING THE AMERICAN WORK

During the Swami’s absence in England, the work of spreading the Vedanta was successfully carried on by his disciples, notably by Swam is Kripananda and Abhayananda, and by Miss S. E. Waldo. They not only held regular weekly meetings on the Vedanta philosophy in New York which were well attended, but carried the Swami’s message to other cities of the Union. Everywhere they found a ready hearing and succeeded in forming new centres, such as at Buffalo and Detroit, where earnest truth-seekers continued the work with zeal and devotion. After three months’ absence the Swami arrived at New York in excellent health and spirits on Friday, December 6. His visit to England and his energetic work there, though a strenuous experience, had been most pleasant. Together with Swami Kripananda, he now made his headquarters in Thirty-ninth Street. They occupied two spacious rooms which could accommodate as many as one hundred and fifty persons. The lady who had promised him help was hindered in giving it. But the Swami did not depend on men and things for his success. He set himself to the task of teaching Karma-Yoga in particular, and gave all those lessons that are embodied in the book known as Karma-Yoga, which is regarded by some as his masterpiece. For two weeks he worked incessantly, giving as many as seventeen class lectures a week, besides carrying on a voluminous correspondence and granting numerous private audiences. The subjects of some of the lectures given at this time were (1) The Claims of Religion:    Its Truth and Utility; (2) The Ideal of a Universal Religion: How It must Embrace Different Types of Minds and Methods ; (3) The Cosmos: The Order of Creation and Dissolution ; (4) Cosmos (continued).

The disciples of the Swami were eager from the first to have his extempore lectures recorded, as he made no effort to preserve his own teachings. Therefore towards the end of the year 1895, a stenographer was engaged to report his lectures. But it was found that he could not keep up with the Swami ; it was difficult for him to do so, especially because of his lack of familiarity with his subjects. Another was engaged with the same result. Finally, through some strange chance, one J. J. Goodwin, who had recently come to New York from England was engaged ; and the result was surprising. He transcribed exactly and accurately all the utterances of the Swami. A man of the world, with a variegated experience, he forsook the worldly life and all worldly pursuits almost from the moment his eyes fell upon the Swami. The Swami told him many incidents of his past life, and this created such a moral revolution in him that thenceforth his whole life was changed. He became a most ardent disciple, even to the point of attending to the Swami‘s personal needs. He would work day and night over the Swami’s lecture, taking them down stenograpliically and then typewriting them, all in the same day, in order to hand over the manuscripts to the newspapers for publication and to be prepared for the same work on the day following. The Swami prized “my faithful Goodwin’” as he was wont to speak of him, and Goodwin accompanied him wherever he went, visiting Detroit and Boston, when the Swami went to those places in the spring of the year 1896, and later accompanying him to England and even to India, where he died. At his demise the Swami was heard to remark, “Now my right hand is gone. My loss is incalculable.” It may be said here that the Swami was comparatively little given to writing. He spoke freely and always extempore and therefore, with the exception of his work on Raja-Yoga, he has left behind him little philosophical writing in his own hand.

Towards the end of the month the Swami took advantage of the Christmas holidays to pay a visit to Boston, as the guest of Mrs. Ole Bull. Returning from there he at once commenced in New York a series of stirring free public lectures at Hardeman Hall, on Sundays, beginning January 5. His lectures before the Metaphysical Society in Brooklyn and the People’s Church in New York drew crowds of listeners and were highly appreciated. Besides these public lectures, he continued to hold his private classes twice daily, the attendance at which was increasing beyond all expectations. Those who came to the public lectures came also to the Vedanta headquarters ; and oftentimes there was not even standing room in Hardeman Hall, when the Swami spoke. He was called the “lightning orator*’, and soon his lame as a public lecturer in New York spread so widely that it was deemed wise to rent Madison Square Garden, a huge hall, with a seating capacity of over fifteen hundred, for the second series of lectures which he gave in February. The subjects were “Bhakti-Yoga,” “The Real and the Apparent Man,” and “M\ Master, Shri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa”. In February, he was invited to lecture before the Metaphysical Society at Hartford, Conn. ; he accepted, and spoke on “Soul and God’’. Of this lecture the Hartford Daily Times wrote:    His lectures are more in consonance with those of Christ than those of many so-called Christians. His broad charity takes in all religions and all nations. The simplicity of his talk last night was charming.

In February he also lectured before the Ethical Society of Brooklyn. His lectures aroused everywhere an enormous wave of enthusiasm and The New York Herald, the leading paper of New York, mentioning the character of the Swami’s work, in the latter part of January, 1896, said:

“Swami Vivekananda is a name to conjure with in certain circles oa New York society today—and those not the least wealthy or intellectual. It is borne by a dusky gentleman from India, who lor the last twelve months has been making name and fame lor himself in this metropolis by the propagation of certain forms of Oriental religion, philosophy and practice. Last winter his campaign centred in the reception room of a prominent hotel on Fifth Avenue. Having gained for his teaching and himself a certain vogue in society, he now aims to reach the common people and for that reason is giving a scries of free lectures on Sunday afternoons at Hardeman Hall.

“Sufficient success has attended the efforts of Swami Vivekananda. . . . Of his early life he never speaks, save to talk in a general way about the great Master who taught him the doctrines and practices he is now trying to introduce in this country.

. . . His manner is undoubtedly attractive, and he is possessed of a large amount of personal magnetism. One has but to glance at the grave, attentive faces of the men and women who attend his classes to be convinced that it is not the man’s subject alone that attracts and holds his disciples. …”

The. New York Herald reporter, after giving a description of the Swami and his work in the United States continues as follows:

‘‘When I visited one of the Swami’s classes recently, I found present a well-dressed audience of intellectual appearance. Doctors and lawyers, professional men and socictv ladies were among those in the room.

“Swami Vivekanamla sat in the centre, clad in an ochre-coloured robe. The Hindu had his audience divided on cither side of him and there were between fifty and a hundred persons present. The class was on Karma-Yoga. . . .

“Following the lecture or instruction, the Swami held an informal reception, and the magnetism of the man was shown by the eager manner in which those who had been listening to him. hastened to shake hands or begged for the favour of an introduction.Rut concerning himself the Swami will not say move than is absolutely necessary. Contrary to the claim made by his pupils, he declares that he has come to this country alone and not as officially representing any order of Hindu monks.He belongs to the Sannyasins, he will say, and is hence free to travel without losing his caste. . . .”

Describing the Swami’s personality at this time, Helen Huntington wrote to the Brahmavadin from Brooklyn:

“. . . . But it has pleased God to send to us out of India a spiritual guide—a teacher whose sublime philosophy is slowly and surely permeating the ethical atmosphere of our country ; a man of extraordinary power and purity, who has demonstrated to us a very high plane of spiritual living, a religion of universal, unfailing charity, self-renunciation, and the purest sentiments conceivable hv the human intellect. The Swami Vivekananda has preached to us a religion that knows no bonds of creed and dogmas, is uplifting, purifying, infinitely comforting and altogether without blemish* —based on the love of God and man and on absolute chastity. . . .

“Swami Vivekananda has made many friends outside the circle of his followers ; he has met all phases of society on equal terms of friendship and brotherhood ; his classes and lectures have been attended by the most intellectual people and advanced thinkers of our cities ; and his influence has already grown into a deep, strong undercurrent of spiritual awakening. No praise or blame has moved him to cither approbation or expostulation ; neither money nor position has influenced or prejudiced him. Towards demonstrations of undue favouritism he has invariably maintained a priestly attitude of inattention, checking foolish advances with a dignity impossible to resist, blaming not any but wrong-doers and evil-thinkers, exhorting only to purity and right living. He is altogether such a man as “kings delight to honour.”

Swami Kripananda, in a letter dated February 19, 1896, to the Brahmavddin, describing the influence exercised by the Swami at this time, writes as follows:

“Since my last letter (of January 31) an immense amount of work has been accomplished by our beloved teacher in the furtherance of our great cause. The wide interest awakened by his teaching, is shown in the ever-increasing number of those who attend the class lessons and the large crowds that come to hear his public Sumlay-lcctures. . . .

“ . . . . The strong current of religious thought sent out in his lectures and writings, the powerful impetus given by bis teachings to the pursuit of truth without regard to inherited superstitions and prejudices, though working silently and unconsciously, is exercising a beneficial and lasting effect on the popular mind and so becoming an important factor in the spiritual uplifting of society. Its most palpable manifestation is shown in the growing demand for Vedantic literature and the frequent use of Sanskrit terms by people from whom one would least expect to hear them: Atman, Purusha, Prakriti, Moksha, and similar expressions have acquired full citizenship, and the names of ShankarAcharya and Ramanuja are becoming with many almost as familiar as Huxley and Spencer. The public libraries are running after everything that has reference to India ; the books of Max Muller, Colebrookc, Dcusscn, Burnouf, and of all the authors that have ever written in English on Hindu philosophy, find a ready sale ; and even the dry and tiresome Schopenhauer, on account of his Vedantic background, is being studied with great eagerness.

“People are quick to appreciate the grandeur and beauty of a system which, equally as a philosophy and a religion, appeals to the heart as well as to the reason, and satisfies all the religious cravings of human nature ; especially so, when it is being expounded by one who, like our teacher, with his wonderful oratory is able to rouse at will the dormant love of the divinely sublime in the human soul, and with his sharp and irrefutable logic to easily convince the most stubborn mind of the most scientific matter-of-fact man. No wonder, therefore, that this interest in Hindu thought is to be met with among all classes of society. . .

It was during this period that the Swami was giving his class lessons on “Bhakti-Yoga” and a series of lectures on “Jnana-Yoga” and on “Sdnkhya and Vedanta/’ He closed his public lectures at Madison Square Garden on February 24, with an inspired lecture on “My Master*’, which has become famous as a masterpiece of eloquence and as a glorious tribute to his Master. It so happened that this was the very date of the public celebration of Shri Ramakrishna’s birthday anniversary in India. On Thursday, the 20th, several young men and women took Mantras and on the preceding Thursday, the 13th, Dr. Street, a devout disciple, was initiated by the Swami as a Sannyasin, with the name of Yogananda. The impressive ceremony was performed in the presence of the other Sannyasin and Brahmachari disciples. The fact that the Swami had made three Sannyasins within one year, that three persons representing learning, position and culture, should have abandoned the world and the worldly life, taking the vows of chastity and poverty and obedience, showed how he had brought home, to some at least in that land of worldly enjoyment, a strong conviction of the necessity of renunciation as the only means of realising the Truth. The Press regarded this fact as “one of the most marvellous evidences of the Swami’s powerful influence for good” over those who came into personal contact with him. Many who had been only admirers, now became the Swami’s personal disciples, and expressed a strong desire to be initiated by him into Brahmacharya. Swami Kripananda concludes the letter quoted above by saying in a half-humorous way:

“By the way, India had better at once make clear her title to the ownership of the Swami. They are about to write his biography for the national Encyclopaedia of the United States of America, thus making of him an American citizen. The time may come when even as seven cities disputed with each other for the honour of having given birth to Homer, seven countries may claim our Master as theirs, and thus rob India of the honour of producing one of the noblest of her children.”

Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox, one of the foremost poetesses and writers of America and one of the most representative women in the world, referring to her meeting with the Swami, wrote as follows to the New York American of May 26, 1907:

“Twelve years ago I chanced one evening to hear that a certain teacher of philosophy from India, a man named Vivekananda, was to lecture a block from my home in New York.

“We went out of curiosity (the Man whose name I bear and I), and before wc had been ten minutes in the audience, wc felt ourselves lifted up into an atmosphere so rarefied, so vital, so wonderful, that wc sat spellbound and almost breathless, to the end of the lecture.

“When it was over we went out with new courage, new hope, new strength, new faith, to meet life’s daily vicissitudes. ‘This is the Philosophy, this is the idea of God, the religion which I have been seeking,’ said the Man. And for months afterwards he went, with me to hear Swami Vivekananda explain the old religion and to gather from his wonderful mind jewels of truth and thoughts of helpfulness and strength. It was that terrible winter of financial disasters, when banks failed and stocks went down like broken balloons and business men walked through the dark valleys of despair and the whole world seemed topsy-turvy—just such an era as we are again approaching. Sometimes alter sleepless nights of worry and anxiety, the Man would go with me to hear the Swami lecture, and then he would come out into the winter gloom and walk down the street smiling and say, ‘It is all right. There is nothing to worry over.* And I would go back to my own duties and pleasures with the same uplifted sense of soul and enlarged vision.

“When any philosophy, any religion, can do this for human beings in this age of stress and strain, and when, added to that, it intensifies their faith in God and increases their sympathies for their kind and gives them a confident joy in the thought of other lives to come, it: is a good and great religion.”

And not only did this celebrated lady meet the Swami, but she became “a devout pupil of the old beautiful Religion of India, as taught by Vivekananda”.She writes further in conclusion:

“We need to learn the greatness of the philosophy of India. We need to enlarge our narrow creeds with the wisdom religious. But we want: to imbue them with our own modern spirit of progress, and to apply them practically, lovingly and patiently to human needs. Vivekananda came to us with a message. … ‘I do not come to convert you to a new belief,””he said. I want you to keep your own belief I want to make the Methodist a better Methodist.; the Presbyterian a better Presbyterian ; the Unitarian a better Unitarian. I want to teach you to live the truth, to reveal the light within your own soul.’He gave the message that strengthened the man of business, that caused the frivolous society woman to pause and think ; that gave the artist new aspirations ; that imbued the wife and mother, the husband and father, with a larger and holier comprehension of duty.”

In fact, many famous philosophers and scientists, and the very best of New York’s social representatives attended the Swami’s lectures or came to his rooms to see him and went away filled with a new spiritual vision and a luminous insight. In a letter dated February 17, he wrote to his friends in India that he had succeeded in rousing the very heart of American civilisation. This was literally true ; thousands of persons of all classes had not only heard his message but had actually proclaimed themselves as Vedantins and as his disciples. Thus his desire of reaching the people was fulfilled. He had by this time concluded his class lectures on Raj a-Yoga, Bliakti-Yoga and Karma-Yoga, which were, by the labours of Mr. Goodwin, ready for the Press ; besides, several of his Sunday lectures had already appeared in pamphlet form.

Having finished his work in New York the Swami left on invitation to Detroit to hold classes and lectures for two weeks. Of this period of work, Mrs. Funke writes:

“ …. He was accompanied by his stenographer, the faithful Goodwin. They occupied a suite of rooms at The Richelieu, a small family hotel, and had the use of the large drawing-room for class work and lectures. The room was not large enough to accommodate the crowds and to our great regret many were turned away. The room, as also the liall, staircase and library were literally packed. At that time he was all Bhakti— the love for God was a hunger and a thirst with him. A kind of divine madness seemed to take possession of him, as if his heart would burst with longing for the Beloved Mother.

“His last public appearance in Detroit was at the Temple Beth El of which the Rabbi Louis Grossman, an ardent admirer of the Swami, was the pastor. It was Sunday evening, and so great was the crowd that we almost feared a panic. There was a solid line reaching far out into the street and hundreds were turned away. Vivekanarida held the large audience spellbound, his subjects being, ‘India’s Message to the West*, and ‘The Ideal of a Universal Religion*. He gave us a most brilliant and masterly discourse. Never had I seen the Master look as he looked that night. There was something in his beauty not of earth. It was as if the spirit had almost burst the bonds of flesh and it was then that I first saw a foreshadowing of the end. He was much exhausted from years of overwork, and it was even then to be seen that he was not long for this world. I tried to close my eyes to it, but in my heart I knew the truth. He had needed rest but felt that he must go on.**

The next vision of the Swami—one of the most remarkable incidents of his whole American career—is before the graduate students of the philosophical department of Harvard University. Mr. Fox had invited him earlier in the year to present his ideas and his philosophy to this society, one of the foremost intellectual bodies in the world. The Swami had accepted the invitation, and on March 25, he spoke on the ‘‘Philosophy of the Vedanta” in such a profound manner as to create an indelible impression on the minds of the professors. Indeed, they offered him a Chair of Eastern Philosophy in the University. But he could not accept this as he was a Sannyasin. It was a trying experience for the Swami to speak before this great critical gathering; but he was at his best, and his interpretation of his philosophy excited the most hearty commendation. Indeed, the Rev. C. C. Everett, D.D., LL.D., of Harvard University, in the introduction to the pamphlet, embodying the Swami’s address and a record of his answers to questions together with the discussion which followed before that institution, writes:

“ . . . . Vivekananda has created a high degree of interest in himself and his work. There are indeed few departments of study more attractive than the Hindu thought. It is a rare pleasure to sec a form of belief that to most seems so far away and unreal as the Vedanta system, represented by an actually living and extremely intelligent believer. This system is not to be regarded merely as a curiosity, as a speculative vagary. Hegel said that Spinozism is the necessary beginning of all philosophising. This can be said even more emphatically of the Vedanta system. We Occidentals busy ourselves with the manifold. We can, however, have no understanding of the manifold, if we have no sense of die One in which the manifold exists. The reality of the One is the truth which the East may well teach us ; and we owe a debt of gratitude to Vivekananda that he has taught this lesson so effectively.”

His answers to the graduating class in philosophy at Harvard were full of penetration, wit, eloquence and philosophical freshness and vitality. In his address he had given a remarkably clear exposition of the cosmology and general principles of the Vedanta, showing the points of reconciliation between the theories of science and the theories of the Vedanta concerning matter and force. He had answered questions asked in a critical spirit appertaining to the influence of Hindu on Stoic philosophy, to caste, to the relation between Advaita and Dvaita. to the theory of the Absolute, and to the contrast between self hypnotism and Raja-Yoga. Speaking of the latter, the Swami remarked that Oriental psychology was infinitely more thorough than the Occidental, asserting that man is already hypnotised and that Yoga is an effort at de-hypnotisa-tion of self. He said, “It is the Advaitist alone that does not care to be hypnotised. His is the only system that more or less understands that hypnotism comes with every form of dualism. But the Advaitist says, throw away even the Vedas, throw away even the Personal God, throw away even (he universe, throw away even your own body and mind, and let nothing remain, in order to get rid of hypnotism perfectly. . . Asked concerning the Yoga powers, the Swami replied that the highest form of Yoga power manifested itself in a Vedanta character and in the continuous perception of divinity as exemplified in the instance of “a Yogi” (Pavhari Baba) “who was bitten by a cobra, and who fell down on the ground. In the evening he revived, and when asked what had happened he said, ‘A messenger came from my Beloved.’ All hatred and anger and jealousy had been burned out of this man. Nothing could make him react; he was infinite love all the time, and he was omnipotent in his power of love. That is the real Yogi.” He added that the highest spiritual power embodied itself in a demonstration of spiritual freedom and in a constant accession of spiritual vision and insight, the Nirvikalpa Samadhi being the climax thereof. When asked by the professors, “What is the Vedantic idea of civilisation?” the Swami made answer that true civilisation was the manifestation of the divinity within, and that that land was the most civilised wherein the highest ideals were made practical.

The Swami was not a preacher of theory. If there was any one feature of the Vedanta philosophy which he propounded, which appeared specially refreshing, it was its possibility of practical demonstration. The West was wedded to the idea that religion is a sublime theory which can be brought into practice and made tangible for people only in another life, but the Swami showed them the folly of this.

One of the subjects he spoke on at Boston was “The Ideals of a Universal Religion”, a religion of principles whose background should be Advaita, and which should vary according to individual temperament of separate nations and personalities.

The Swami was physically worn out by this time. He had worked to the point of exhaustion, and yet strange to say one does not find him flagging in the least. After closing his public lectures in New York in the latter part of February, 1896, the Swami consolidated his American work by organising the Vedanta movement into a definite society and by issuing his teachings in book form. Thus came into existence “The Vedanta Society of New York” of which he was the founder, a non-sectarian body with the aim of preaching and practising the Vedanta, and applying its principles to all religions. It invited members of all religious creeds and organisations to become its members without change of faith. Toleration and acceptance of all religions were its watchwords and described its general character. Its members became known as “Vedantins” and met regularly at appointed times for the purpose of carrying on co-operative and organised work, and for the study and propagation of Vedanta literature.

Some of the Swami’s great works like Raja-Yoga, Bhakti-Yoga and Karma-Yoga had already been published and had speedily attained a wide circulation. The American journals received and reviewed these works favourably, and the book Raja-Yoga aroused a considerable discussion among the psychologists and physiologists of some of the leading Universities.

More and more as time went on, the Swami found it necessary to systematise his religious ideas ; to do so he felt that he would necessarily have to reorganise the entire Hindu Philosophical thought and to group its distinctive features round the leading tenets of the Hindu religious systems, thus making it more intelligible to Western minds. He wanted to bring out according to different schools of Vedanta, the ideas of the soul and the Divinity or final goal, the relation of matter and force  and the Vedantic conception of cosmology, and how they coincided with modern science. He also intended to draw up a classification of the Upanishads according to the passages which have a distinct bearing on the Advaita, the Vishishtadvaita and the Dvaita conceptions, in order to show how all of them can be reconciled. He planned to write a book, carefully working out all these ideas in a definite form. That he had this idea for a long time is shown by a letter which he wrote from England in 1896, saying that he was busy collecting passages from the various Vedas bearing on the Vedanta in its threefold aspects. For this reason he had been sending to India for the Vedanta-Sutras with the Bhashyas of all the sects, as also the Brahmanas, the Upanishads and the Puranas. When these works came, his first task, he thought, would be to remodel the Indian thought-forms therein contained so as to be acceptable to the modernised intellect of the West. And his aim was, as he himself had written long before to one of his disciples:

“To put the Hindu ideas into English and then make out of dry Philosophy and intricate Mythology and queer startling Psychology, a religioti which shall he easy, simple, popular and at the same time meet the requirements of the highest minds—is a task which only those can understand who have attempted it. The abstract Advaita must become living—poetic—in everyday life ; out of hopelessly intricate Mythology must come concrete moral forms ; and out of bewildering Yogism must come the most scientific and practical Psychology—and all this must he put into a form so that a child may grasp it. That is mv life’s work. The Lord only knows how far I shall succeed. To work we have the right, not to the fruits thereof. It is hard work, my boy, hard work!”

Yes, to be sure, the task was Herculean ; but certainly the Swami had succeeded in some measure. His experience in the West and his constant meditation on religious matters, drew out of him surprisingly original ovservations upon Indian philosophy, which culminated in his bringing about later on in India itself, a thorough restatement of Indian ideas. And it may be said without dispute that, in an especial sense he was the first of Indian philosophers to prove the Hindu spiritual ideas to be truly scientific as well; and it was he alone who has shown the philosophical truths behind the Puranic and mythological forms of Hinduism. By the time he went to Thousand Island Park lie had with him the Bhashyas of all the principal sects, and all his philosophical writings and utterances were, as it were, so many commentaries upon these, which were remarkably original in their expression. He would accept no authority as linal, “knowing full well how each commentator, in turn, had twisted the texts to suit his own meaning”. Whensoever he made comments in his classes upon the Vedas or other Hindu scriptures, he threw a whole world of light and revelation upon the texts.

One of the Swami’s purposes in organising his classes into a society, besides carrying on the spiritual work he had commenced, was particularly to bring about an interchange of ideals and ideas between the East and the West. He wanted centres of vital and continual communication between the two worlds and to make “open doors, as it were, through which the East and the West could pass freely back and forth, without a feeling of strangeness, as from one home to another”. Already he had in his mind the plan of bringing some of his brother-disciples from India to teach and preach in America, and also of having some of his American and English disciples go to India and teach and preach there. In America it would be a religious teaching, and in India it would be a practical teaching, a message of science, industry, economics, applied sociology, organisation and co-operation. Day and night the Swami pondered on the ways and means of reconciling these two great worlds— the East and the West; and in a form of prophetic vision, he would often tell his American followers, that the time would come when the lines of demarcation, both in thought and in ideal, between the two would be obliterated.

He had long since, when he was in England, written to the Swami Saradananda that he desired him to come to the West, but for one reason or another his departure was delayed. In the spring of 1896 letters came pouring in to the Swami, beseeching him to come to England again and to systematise the work he had initiated there. He had himself felt the urgent need of doing so ; and it was this reason which actuated him to organise his New York work all the sooner. New York, being the metropolis of America, and London being the metropolis of England, he knew that if he could leave organised societies in both these cities, the work of acquainting the whole English-speaking Western world with his message would in time become a definite possibility. With this object in view, he was also training such of his disciples as he could depend upon. Thus upon Miss S. E. Waldo, who became known as “Sister Haridasi”, the Swami conferred spiritual powers and authority, saying that she alone, of all others, was best able to teach the practice and philosophy of Raja-Yoga. Then, too. he had been carefully training Swam is Kripananda, Abhayananda and Yogananda and a number of Brahmacharis into an intimate and learned acquaintance with the Vedanta philosophy, in its threefold aspects. And there were those of his disciples who were achieving a true insight into his message. Upon all these he was relying to further the cause of the Vedanta during his intended absence in England and subsequently in India, for he had made up his mind to sail in the middle of April for Europe, and, having finished his work there, to sail for his motherland.

Before leaving New York he made Mr. Francis H. Leggett, one of the wealthy and influential residents of the city, the President of the Vedanta Society. The other offices were occupied by the Swami’s initiated disciples. Among those who counted themselves as eager workers in his cause at this time were Miss Mary Phillips, a lady prominent in many circles in women’s charitable and intellectual work in the metropolis, Mrs. Arthur Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Walter Goodyear, and Miss Emma Thursby, the famour singer. The chief members of the Society had been urging upon the Swami the advisability of sending for one of his Gurubhais to conduct his classes and work in general during his absence, and the Swami, abiding by their wishes, wrote definitely to the Swami Saradananda, some time before his return to England asking him to come to London at once as the guest of Mr, E. T. Sturdy, On April 15, the Swami himself sailed for England from New York.

Though he was constantly in a whirlwind of work. Swami Vivekananda delighted in hours of rest and leisure when he could throw off his burden of teaching and preaching; at such times, he would enjoy himself like a child. The giving of his message was, in his case, the giving of his life’s blood. Nothing interested him more in times of mental and physical weariness than to “talk nonsense” and be amused. He would take up a copy of “Punch” or some other comic paper and laugh till the tears rolled from his eyes. He demanded diversion of mind, because he knew that there was the tendency in him to drift into serious moods of thought; and those who loved him were glad at heart when they saw him joyous as a child at play.

He heartily enjoyed a good story. He never forgot any such told to him and would use it himself to the amusement of others when occasion arose. A few may be here cited. A lady whose husband was a friend of the Swami and who took him for his first sleigh ride, came to know him closely when she and the Swami were guests of Mrs. Bagley at Annisquam, in August of 1894. She writes to Sister Nivedita:

“We were friends at once. … He lectured only once at Annisquam. It was his holiday time. … He used to turn to me and say, ‘Tell me a story.’ I remember he was greatly amused by a tale about a Chinaman who had been arrested lor stealing pork and who, in reply to the Justice who remarked that he thought Chinamen did not eat pork, said, ‘Oh! Me Melican man now. Me, sir, me steal, me eat pork, me everything.’ How often I have heard Vivekananda say, sotto voce, ‘Me Melican man.’ These things would seem trifling to anyone who does not know the Swami as you do. But, nothing which concerned him could seem trivial or of poor report to you, I am sure.

“I had lived for three years on an Indian Reservation in Canada. The Swami was never tired of listening to anecdotes about the Red men. One I remember amused him greatly. An Indian whose wife had just died came to the Parsonage for some nails for her coffin. While waiting he asked my cook if she would marry him! Naturally she was very indignant, and in reply to her sorrowful refusal the man only said, ‘Wait, you see.’ The following Sunday much to our amusement he came and sat upon one of the gate posts. He had a feather stuck jauntily in his hat, and hair oil, of which he had been most prodigal, was trickling down his cheeks. It happened that the Swami was giving sitting for his portrait just then, and we went to the Studio to see how the portrait was progressing. Just as I entered the Studio a little oil ran down the cheek of the portrait, and the Swami seeing it said instantly, ‘Getting ready to marry the cook!’, . . Knowing the Swami as you did, you must have realised what an exquisite sense ol humour he had. …”

But of all other stories, two which he relished most and which sent him into fits of laughter, were those respectively of a new Christian missionary to a cannibal tribe, and that of the “darky” clergyman, preaching on “Creation”. As to the former: There was once a Christian missionary newly arrived in a far-off island inhabited by cannibals. He proceeded to the chief of the place and asked him, “Well, how did you like my predecessor?” The reply was, “He was simply de—li—cious.” And as for the “darky” preacher:    He was shouting out, “Yo see, God was making Adam, and he was a makin im out o’ mud. And when he had a-got im made, he stucks im up again a fence to dry. And then—”. “Hold on, there, preacher,” suddenly cried out a learned listener. “What abouts dat ere fence? Whos a-made dat fence?” The preacher replied sharply, “Now youse listen here. Sam Jones. Don’t youse be a gwining to ask such ere questions. Youse’ll ere smash up all theology.”

Great souls are not always serious. This power of complete relaxation was as much a part of the Swami’s greatness as were his intellectual powers and spiritual realisations. One would like to know the personal temperament, the personal incident, the human side of a teacher as well as his words of Revelation. Those who live in the personal environment of great men love them for their human qualities, and it was so with the disciples and admirers of Swami Vivekananda. They made every effort to divert his mind and found that the diversion made him deliver his message all the clearer. Several of his most intimate friends, persons of position and wealth in the Western world, understood his need for rest and recreation, and invited him to spend short holidays at their residences* There he was allowed absolute personal freedom. Did he desire to talk, they would listen with rapt attention. Did he desire to sing the songs of his own land, he could do so freely. If he sat in silent abstraction they left him to his mood. Times were when he would break the silence of days in a rhapsody of divine eloquence ; and then again he would talk on matters that required no mental concentration. After giving some lecture that throbbed with spiritual power and realisation he would often dance in glee saying, “Thank God, it is over! ” He would come down unexpectedly from the mountain-tops of insight to the levels of childlike simplicity in a moment.

With those in the West with whom he was particularly free he would say frankly whatever came into his mind. He called them oftentimes by familiar names as he did Mr. and Mrs. Hale, whom he styled “Father Pope” and “Mother Church” ; another he called “Yum”, “Jojo”, and so on. When they prepared some delicious recipe he would look pleadingly at it, his eyes beaming with joy—and then, eat with his fingers as he was wont to do in India, saying that he liked to do so and that he enjoyed it more in that way. At first it was shocking to the Westerners ; but when they understood, it gave them pleasure to let him have his own way. They would be specially amused when in the privacy of their homes he would take oil his collar and throw off the boots which made him uncomfortable and slip his feet into a pair of house-slippers ; and as to cuffs, they were an abomination in his eyes. The Sannyasin nature in him would resent at times all conventions and etiquette. His indifference 10 money was characteristic. It is told by his American disciples how he would often look with dread upon money he had received from friends for his own use, and would give it away freely to the poor or to those in need. Or it might be that he would immediately purchase presents for his friends and disciples, as was the case at Thousand Island Park when he was given a handsome purse at the end of his class work. The whole sum was spent in this way.

The Swami demanded personal freedom on all occasions ; if he did not receive it, he shook himself free. He could not tolerate to be patronised ; and when a certain woman of wealth endeavoured to make him do as she desired in matters of plans and arrangements, he disrupted them all. She would be irritated for the time being and then later on say of him laughingly and lovingly, “At the last moment he upsets all my plans for him. He must have his own way. He is just like a mad bull in a china-shop.” While he would go to any length when it was a matter of service or loyalty, he never allowed anyone to compel him to do certain things. And he certainly displayed wonderful patience with some, whom he believed, in spite of personal irritation, to be instruments of the Lord in the furthering of His cause. For otherwise, his first impulse would be to throw them overboard. He could not tolerate restraint.

There were times when he would say, “Oh! The body is a terrible bondage!” or “How I wish that I could ‘hide myself for ever! ’ ” and all would see the spirit in him as though chained in agony to the fetters of the flesh. Such moments often came to him, as for example, when he wrote his poems “My Play is Done”, and “The Song of the Sannyasin” ; and here and there in scores of his letters this is evident. To cite from a letter to Mi’s. Bull:

“I have a note-book which has travelled with me all over the world. I find therein these words written seven years ago: ‘Now to seek a corner and lay myself down to die!’ Yet all this Karma remained. I hope I have worked it out.

“It appears like a hallucination that I was in these childish dreams of doing this and doing that. I am getting out of them. . . . Perhaps these mad desires were necessary to bring me over to this country. And I thank the Lord for the experience.”

When his disciples found him in such moods they feared that the Hour of Deliverance might come on suddenly and the body drop. So they rejoiced to see him in his lighter moods.

An illustrative incident of the Swami’s human side as told by one of his disciples happened in the city of Detroit. On a certain occasion he went to the house of one of his admirers and, with that unique sense of freedom and frankness which was his, asked to be allowed to cook an Indian meal himself. The request was immediately granted, and then to the amusement of everyone present, he gathered from his pockets some score or more of tiny packets filled with finely-grounded condiments and spices. These had been sent all the way from India, and wherever he went these packets went with him. At one time, one of his choicest and most prized possessions was a bottle of chutney some gentleman had thoughtfully sent him from Madras. His Western disciples delighted to have him cook his own dishes in their kitchens. They helped him also in this, and thus time would pass by in merriment and making new experiments. He would make the dishes so hot with spices that they were not palatable to a Western taste, and many times the preparations took so long that when the food was ready to be served the party was literally ravenous. Then there would be much talk and laughter, and he would take the keenest delight in seeing how the Western tongue stood the hot-spiced dishes of distant Hindusthan. They were, no doubt, soothing to his high-strung temperament and tired nerves, but certainly not “good for his liver” as he insisted they were. This human side of the Swami bound his disciples to him in deep human love.

Nothing he enjoyed so much at times as to be seated cozily near a fire in winter-time and plunge into reminiscences of his early days. Or he would spend the morning or evening in reading comic papers and magazines from cover to cover. As for newspapers he betrayed the reporter s instinct in reading only the headlines. This was his diversion ; but at any moment the saint and prophet in him might emerge. One disciple who could not understand him at first, unfortunately being in his presence only in his times of recreation, was one day suddenly made conscious of the Swami’s true nature. This disciple saw the Swami enjoying himself heartily. But when he asked him a question concerning religion, the countenance of the Swami changed instantly. Fun gave place to the revelation of the highest spiritual truths. He says, “It seemed as though the Swami had of a sudden cast aside the layer of that consciousness in which he had been then enjoying himself and made me aware of other layers behind the network of changing personality/* But it was more than the power to transfigure his consciousness suddenly from fun to holiness and Jnana that he manifested. He was actually possessed of a dual consciousness. Whilst he might be playing, as it were, on the surface of his personality, one was made aware at the same moment of the mighty flow of the immense depths beneath.

At the end of his American work he was thoroughly tired. Indeed, after he had made a railway journey it seemed for days as though the wheels of the trains revolved with their noise in his brain : yet his head was always clear, though at times he grew exceedingly nervous. The strain of the years of his Sadhana in the East and teaching in the West, had been too much for him. His friends feared a complete breakdown and, as a matter of fact, slowly but surely his body was failing, though he himself was the last to be conscious of this, and all the time worked harder than ever. His friends could not help seeing the cost to the body of delivering his spiritual message. They knew that he had given himself wholly and unstintingly for the good of those who made his message the gospel of their lives.

As may be readily imagined there were many aspects of the Swami’s personality and teachings during his stay in America prior to his second visit to England, which must remain unknown for ever. According to his disciples, “Each hour of the day there would be some new idea, some new human sweetness, some illuminating thought on the vastness of the soul and the divinity of man, some new, boundless hope, some startlingly original plan that would radiate from his personality.” One disciple says, “Simply to walk on the city streets with him, meant to be translated to marvellous worlds of thought or power suddenly from the sheerest fun.” Still another records, “He always made one feel that he was all spirit and not body, and this in spite of the fact that his magnificent physical frame irresistibly attracted the attention of every one.” Another disciple says:

“It would be impossible for me to describe the overwhelming force of Swamiji’s presence. He could rivet attention upon himself: and when lie spoke in all seriousness and intensity—though it seems wellnigh incredible—there were some among his hearers who were literally exhausted. The subtlety of his thoughts and arguments swept them off their feet. In one case I know of a man who was forced to rest in bed for three days as the result of a nervous shock received by a discussion with the Swami.

His personality was at once awe-inspiring and sublime. He had the faculty of literally annihilating one if lie so chose.”

On many an occasion he would draw out one who differed from him, only to bewilder and confuse him. And yet these very ones who were thus “prostrated by that radiant power” attested most to his sweetness. They said, “He is a marvellous combination of sweetness and irresistible force, verily a child and a prophet in one.” Indeed, if all the descriptions of his ideas and personality at this period were recorded, they would of themselves constitute a complete volume.

All through his American work his mind was full with plans. From the very first it was his intention, when he had once gained a learned and extensive hearing and established his mission on a solid basis, to found a “Temple Universal”, as he styled it, wherein should congregate, in harmony, all the religious sects of the world, worshipping but one symbol, “om”, which represents the Absolute. But his intense, all-absorbing work in founding his own Vedanta movement prevented him from carrying out this noble ideal.

Still another plan of his about which he had written to Mrs. Bull in the beginning of the year 1895, was to purchase lands in the Catskill mountains to the extent of one hundred and eight acres, where his students could go for Sadhana during the summer holidays and build camps or cottages as they liked, until permanent buildings could be erected. He said that he would himself contribute the funds to buy the land.

It is a painful and unpleasant task to have constantly to revert to a recital of the slanders that were frequently heaped upon the Swami by self-seeking and malicious parties, but the demands of biographical treatment would not be fulfilled were this not done. The greatness of the Swami looms up larger on the horizon of true judgment when one knows what tremendous obstacles he was forced to encounter and how much suffering he experienced, as a monk, by the many lies circulated against his purity and temperance.

There were two occasions in particular during his American work when his character was assailed. Maddened to desperation by the official reports that “because of Vivekananda’s success and teaching, the contributions to the Indian missionary funds had decreased in one year by as much as one million pounds”, certain zealot missionaries, circulated the story that “because of Vivekananda, Mrs. Bagley (the wife of the ex-Governor of Michigan) has had to dismiss a servant-girl ; he is dreadfully intemperate.” Fortunately there are in existence three letters from the Bagley family which conclusively deny such malicious statements. A letter of the Swami written on March 21, 1895, to Mrs. Ole Bull concerning these incidents is also in the possession of his disciples ; it reads:

“I am astonished to hear the scandals the Ramabai circle are indulging in about me. Among others, one item is that Mrs. Bagley of Detroit had to dismiss a servant-girl on account of my bad character! ! I Don’t you see, Mrs. Bull, that however a man may conduct himself, there will always be persons who will invent the blackest lies about him. At Chicago I had such things spread every day against me.

“And these women are invariably the very Christian of Christians! …”

Other letters similar to this, which the Swami wrote at this time were filled with the bitterest indignation against the vicious slanderers who would even be willing to let their “souls go to hell itself” rather than let “this d-d Hindu”, as some called him, “interfere with our work”. The Swami could not realise why they should invent these charges against him. He was at first taken aback, but he took hope amidst the blackest despair when he learned through his friends that these persons had no prestige and standing amongst honest Christians, that they were regarded as “blue-nosed”, “hard-shelled” and “soft-shelled” fanatics. The Swami marked well that none of the missionary bodies of standing and education, such as “The Oxford Mission”, militated against him. What pleased him most during his stay in England, was to meet only with the kindest and most sympathetic treatment from the ecclesiastics there. But the testimony of Mrs. Bagley herself and of her daughter, is particularly in point. Writing to a lady friend from Annisquam, Mass., on June 22, 1894, Mrs. Bagley says:

“You write of my dear friend, Vivekananda. I am glad of an opportunity to express my admiration of his character, and it makes me most indignant that any one should call him in question. He has given us in America higher ideas of life than we have ever had before. In Detroit, an old conservative city, in all the Clubs he is honoured as no one has ever been, and I only feel that all who say one word against him are jealous of his greatness and his fine spiritual perceptions ; and yet how can they be? He does nothing to make them so.

“He has been a revelation to Christians, … he has made possible for us all a diviner and more noble practical life. As a religious teacher and an example to all I do not know of his equal. It is so wrong and so untrue to say that lie is intemperate. All who have been brought in contact with him day by day, speak enthusiastically of his sterling qualities of character, and men in Detroit who judge most critically, and who are unsparing, admire and respect him. … He has been a guest in iny house more than three weeks, and my sons as well as my son-in-law and my entire family found Swami Vivekananda a gentleman always, most courteous and polite, a charming companion and an evcr-welcomc guest. I have invited him to visit 11s at my summer-home here at Annisquam, and in my family lie will always be honoured and welcomed. I am really sorry for those who say aught against him, more than I am angry, for they know so little what they are talking about. He has been with Mr. and Mrs. Hale of Chicago much of the time while in that city. I think that has been his home. They invited him first as guest and later were unwilling to part with him. They are Presbyterians ; . . . cultivated and refined people, and they admire, respect and love Vivekananda. He is a strong, noble human being, one who walks with God. He is as simple and trustful as a child. In Detroit I gave him an evening reception, inviting ladies and gentlemen, and two weeks afterwards he lectured to invited guests in my parlour. … I had included lawyers, judges, ministers, army-officers, physicians and business men with their wives and daughters. Vivekananda talked two hours on ‘The Ancient Hindu Philosophers and What They Taught’. All listened with intense interest to the end. Wherever he spoke, people listened gladly and said, ‘I never heard man speak like that.’ He docs not antagonise, bur lifts people up to a higher level—they see something beyond man-made creeds and denominational names, and they feel one with him in their religious beliefs.

“Every human being would be made better by knowing him and living in the same house with him. … I want every one in America to know Vivekananda, and if India lias more such let her send them to us. …”

Again in another letter, dated March 20, 1895, she writes in reply to the same lady:

“. . . Let my first word be that all this about Swami Vivekananda is an absolute falsehood from beginning to end. Nothing could be more false. We all enjoyed every day of the six weeks he spent with us. . . . He was invited by the different clubs of gentlemen in Detroit, and dinners were given him in beautiful homes so that greater numbers might meet him and talk with him and hear him talk . . . and everywhere and at all times he was, as he deserved to be, honoured and respected. No one can know him without respecting his integrity and excellence of character and his strong religious nature. At Annisquam last summer I had a cottage and we wrote Vivekananda, who was in Boston, inviting him again to visit us there, which he did. lemairiing three weeks, not only conferring a favour upon us, but a great pleasure I am sure, to friends who had cottages near us. My servants. I have had many years and they are all still with me. Some of them went with us to Annisquam, the others were at home. You can sec how wholly without foundation are all these stories. Who this woman in Detroit is. of whom you speak, I do not know. I only know this that every word of her story is as untrue and false as possible. . . . Wc all know Vivekananda. Who are they that speak so falsely?’ . .

This dignified and powerful refutation of the scandals circulated against the Swami was supplemented by another letter written on the following day by Mrs. Bagiev’s daughter (Helen Bagiev). It reads:

I am glad to know that the story was not circulated by R—. If I find it possible I wish to see Mrs. S—— and ask her what her authority for such a statement was. I shall do it quietly of course, but I am going to find out for once, if possible, who starts these lies about Vivekananda. These things travel fast, and if once one is uprooted, perhaps these women will stop to think before they circulate a story so readily. If only they would investigate them they would find how false they all are. . .

The Swami, as a matter of fact, knew too well, that he had little cause to feel either himself or his work seriously harmed by the many attacks on his personality. Then, he had the satisfaction of knowing that thousands of others regarded and knew him as a man of absolute purity and unparalleled integrity. Besides, from every quarter of America reports of his teaching and of its influence came pouring in. The only occasion when he was seriously incensed, was when certain parties, securing the photograph of his Master, managed to have it printed in one of the leading papers of a large Mid-Western city, together with slurring comments upon his appearance and upon Hinduism and Hindu Yogis in general. Then he was heard to exclaim, “Oh! This is blasphemy! “

In striking contrast to these unpleasantnesses, he had as a real consolation the thought that he was reverenced and loved by the finest minds in the land. Even before his public reception at the Harvard University in 1896, he had been received privately in September of 1894 by some members of the University faculty and by many of the graduate philosophical students. Following close upon this, the Columbia University offered him the Chair of Sanskrit, which honour he had to decline because he was a Sannyasin.

It was at this time that the Swami met the distinguished Professor William James of Harvard at dinner at the residence of Mrs. Ole Bull. After dinner the Swami and the Professor drew together in earnest and subdued conversation. It was midnight when they rose from their long discourse. Eager to know the result of the meeting of these two great minds, Mrs. Bull asked, “Well, Swami, how did you like Professor James?” He replied, in a sort of abstracted way, “A very nice man, a very nice man ! ” laying emphasis on the word nice. The next day the Swami handed a letter to Mrs. Bull with the casual remark, “You may be interested in this.” Mrs. Bull read and to her amazement saw that Professor James, in inviting the Swami to meet him at his own residence for dinner a few days later, had addressed him as “Master”. The tribute of Professor James’ regard for the Swami is evinced, on many occasions, in his writings, and he speaks of him deferentially as “that paragon of Vedantists”. In his classical work, The Variety of Religious Experience, he specially refers to the Swami in connection with monistic mysticism. In his celebrated essay, The Energies of Men, he speaks of a University professor who underwent the Raja-Yoga practices as a cure for nervous disorders, and who received thereby not only physical benefit but intellectual and spiritual illumination as well. There are many who believe that in this essay Professor James was describing his own experiences of the Raj a-Yoga practices as instructed by the Swami.

It must always be remembered that the Swami met influential personages of other fields of thought, besides the religious, and they were charmed with his knowledge of science and art,

As early as September 1893, immediately following his appearance at the Parliament, he was introduced to a group of noted scientists at a vegetarian dinner given especially in his honour by Professor Elisha Grey, the electrical inventor, and his wife in their beautiful residence. Highland Park, Chicago. It was at the time that the Electrical Congress was being held, and amongst other distinguished guests who were invited to meet the Swami, there were Sir William Thompson, afterwards Lord Kelvin, Professor Helmholtz and Ariton Ilopitallia. The Swami’s knowledge of electricity amazed the scientists, and his shining repartees bearing on the matters of science were greeted with sincere pleasure.

There were, of course, scores of lectures given by the Swami, now lost, apart from those which have been incorporated in the Complete Works as belonging to the period of his first stay in America. In 1893 he gave a series of lectures in and around Chicago, and the whole of the next year was spent in lecturing throughout the country. In 1894, he made his home for a time with the Guernsey family, the members of which regarded him as “Master” and opened up for him numerous opportunities for holding classes and conversaziones. It was at this time that he met Dr. Lyman Abbot, and was also invited to dine with the editors of the Outlook. The lectures known as the “Barber Lectures” were given in 1895 under the patronage of Mrs. Barber, a society woman of Boston. At Annisquam, where he was twice the guest of Mrs. Bagley of Michigan, taking short holidays there in 1894 and in 1895, he gave one public lecture and a number of conversaziones. From January to April 1895, he gave numerous lectures at his own quarters in New York, and in the following month concluded his public lectures in Mott’s Memorial Building with “The Science of Religion” and “The Rationale of Yoga”, his leading thought being “Unity in Variety is the Plan of Nature”, thus reconciling in one sentence the opposing thought-systems of the monistic and pluralistic outlook. Among the many receptions accorded him during his stay in New York, several of the more successful ones were inaugurated by Miss Phillips. But the fearless outspokennessof the Swami often alienated that general approval for which so many public workers slave and sacrifice their true views and their principles. And, after all, he found that the American public, though at first it might appear to resent, would afterwards regard with great admiration one who dared speak openly of what he felt were the drawbacks of American civilisation. It so happened that he once spoke in Boston before a large audience gathered to hear him on “My Master”. Full of the fire of renunciation that he was, when he saw before him the audience composed, for the most part, of worldly-minded men and women lacking in spiritual sympathy and earnestness, he felt that it would be a desecration to speak to them of his understanding of, and his real feelings of devotion for Shri Ramakrishna. So, instead, he launched out on a terrible denunciation of the vulgar, physical and materialistic ideas which underlay the whole of Western civilisation. Hundreds of people left the hall abruptly, but in no way affected, he went on to the end. The next morning the papers were filled with varying criticisms, some highly favourable, others severely critical in their analysis of what he had said, but all commenting on his fearlessness, sincerity and frankness. When he himself read the report of his speech, he was stung with remorse. He wept bitterly for thus denouncing others and said, “My Master could not see the evil side of a man. He had nothing but love even for his worst vilifiers. It is nothing short of sacrilege on my part to abuse others and wound their feelings while speaking about my Master. Really I have not understood Shri Ramakrishna and am totally unfit to speak about him! ” But that he ever denounced American women, as some of his bitter antagonists have said, is a gross libel. The Swami’s own words live to testify to his high opinion concerning them and to his sincere gratitude for the uniform kindness they had shown him.

One of the interesting lectures that the Swami gave during his visit to Boston at the latter part of 1894, when he was the guest of Mrs. Ole Bull, was on “The Ideals of Indian Women”. At her special solicitation he gave this lecture to the women of Cambridge, a suburb of Boston. This address which was deep,  stirring and patriotic, dwelt on the beauty of character and the ideals of Indian Womanhood in general, and the idea of Indian Motherhood in particular. It was as well, though unconsciously, a reply to the remarks which many ignorant or self-interested persons had circulated concerning the “degraded” condition of Indian Womanhood. So much impressed was the gathering of prominent ladies with the Swami’s address that in the time of the approaching Christmas they sent, unbeknown to the Swami himself, the following letter to his mother, in far-off India, together with a beautiful picture of the Child Jesus in the lap of the Virgin Mary: 

“To

“The Mother of Swami Vivekananda,

“Dear Madam,

“At this Christmas tide, when the gift of Mary’s son to the world is celebrated and rejoiced over with us, it would seern the time of remembrance. We, who have your son in our midst, send you greetings. His generous service to men, women and children in our midst was laid at your feet by him, in an address lie gave us the other day on the Ideals of Motherhood in India. The worship of his mother will be to all who heard him an inspiration and an uplift.

“Accept, dear Madam, our grateful recognition of your life and work in and through your son. And may it be accepted by you as a slight token of remembrance to serve in, its use as a tangible reminder that the world is coming to its true inheritance fiom God, of Brotherhood and Unity.”

Referring to this lecture Mrs. Bull has written:

”… Having given from the Vedas, from Sanskrit literature and the dramas these Ideals, and having cited the laws of today favourable to the women of India, he paid his filial homage to his own mother as having enabled him to do the best he had done, by her life of unselfish love and purity, that caused him by his very inheritance to choose the life of a monk.”

It was conspicuous in the Swami that wherever he went he paid the highest tribute to his mother, whensoever the occasion arose. One of his friends, recalling the few happy weeks spent as a fellow guest in the house of a common friend writes:

“He spoke often of his mother. I remember his saying that she had wonderful self-control, and that lie had never known any woman who could fast so long. She had once gone without food, he said, for as many as fourteen days together. And it was not uncommon for his followers to hear such words upon his lips as, ‘It was my mother who inspired me to this. Her character was a constant inspiration to my life and work’.”

Of the many descriptions of the Swami in America, the following extract from a newspaper report is interesting:1

“One day, at an unfashionable place by the sea, the professor was seen crossing the lawn between the boarding-house and his cottage accompanied by a man in a long red coat. The coat, which had something of a priestly cut, descended far below the man’s knees, and was girded around his waist with a thick cord of the same reddish orange tint. He walked with a strange, shambling gait, and yet there was a commanding dignity and impressiveness in the carriage of his neck and bare head that caused everyone in sight to stop and look at him ; he moved slowly, with the swinging tread of one who had never hastened, and in his great dark eyes was the beauty of an alien civilisation which might—should time and circumstances turn it into opposition—become intolerably repulsive. He was dark, about the colour of a light quadroon, and his full lips, which in a man of Caucasian race would have been brilliant scarlet, had a tint of bluish purple. His teeth were regular, white, and sometimes cruel, but his beautiful expressive eyes and the proud wonderful carriage of his head, the swing and grace of the heavy crimson tassels that hung from the end of his sash, made one forget that he was too heavy for so young a man, and that long sitting on the floor had visited him with the fate of the tailor.

”… He seemed very young, even younger than his twenty-nine years, and as he seated himself he covered his legs carefully with his flowing robe, like a woman or a priest; but the hoary ancient turn of his thought belied his childlike manner.

”… And then, having said his say, the Swami was silent …. Occasionally he cast his eye up to the roof and repeated softly ‘Shiva, Shiva, Shiva!’ . . . And a current of powerful feeling seemed to be flowing like molten lava beneath the silent surface of this strange being ….

“He stayed days among them, keenly interested in all practical things ; his efforts to eat strange food were heroic and sometimes disastrous to himself. He was constantly looking about for something which would widen the possibilities of feeding his people in times of famine. Our ways seemed to inspire him with a sort of horror, meat-eating cannibals that we seemed to be! But he concealed it, either with absolute dumbness, or by a courteous flow of language which effectually hid his thoughts.

1 This was written by Mrs. John Henry Wright and related to the week-end Swamiji spent with the Wrights at Annisquam at the end of August, 1893.

“He had been brought up amidst polemics, and his habit of argument was mainly Sorratic, beginning insidiously and simply by a story, or clear statement of some incontestable fact, and then from that deriving strange and unanswerable things. All through, his discourses abounded in picturesque illustrations and beautiful legends. To work, to get on in the world, in fact, any measure of temporal success seemed to him entirely beside the subject. He had been trained to regard the spiritual life as the real thing of this world! Love of God and love of man! . . . ‘The love of the Hindu’, lie told us, ‘goes further than the love of the Christian, for that stops at man ; but the religion of Buddha goes on towards the beasts of the field and every creeping thing that has life.’

“At sixteen he had renounced the world and spent his time among men who rejoiced in these things and looked forward to spending day after day on the banks of the Ganges, talking of the higher life.

“When someone suggested to him that Christianity was a saving power, he opened his gnat dark eyes upon him and said. ‘If Christianity is a saving power in itself, why has it not saved the Ethiopians. the Abyssi-liians-’’ lie also arraigned our own crimes, the horror of women on the stage, the frightful immorality in our streets, our drunkenness, our thieving, our political degeneracy, the murdering in our West, the lynching in our South, and wc, remembering his own Thugs, were still too delicate to mention them.

“. . . He cared for Thomas ft Kcmpis more than for any other writer and had translated a part of the ‘Imitation of Christ’ into Bengali and written an introduction to it ; as for receiving the Stigmata, he spoke of it as the natural result of an agonising love of God. The teaching of the Vedas, constant and beautiful, lie applied to every event in life, quoting a few verses and then translating, and with the translation of the story giving the meaning. His mouth, also, was full of wonderful proverbs. ‘Of what, use is the knowledge that is locked away in books?’ he said, in speaking of the memories of Hindu boys.

“Himself a Hindu monk, he told, once, of a time when he turned into a forest, a trackless forest, because he felt that God was leading him, of how he went on for three days, starving and how he was more perfectly happy than he had ever been before because he felt that he was entirely in the hands of God. ‘When my time comes,’ he said. ‘I shall like to go up the mountain and there, by the Ganges, lay myself down,and with the water singing over me I shall go to sleep, and above me will tower the Himalayas—men have gone mad for those mountains!’ There was once a monk, he told us, who went far up into the mountains and saw them everywhere around him ; and above his head towered their great white crests. Far below, thousands of feet, was the Ganges—narrow stream at the foot of a precipice. ‘Shall I then like a dog die in my bed when all this beauty is around me?’ the monk thought, and he plunged into the chasm.

“The Hindu monks have no monasteries, no property. . . . According to him, the monks were not required to do penance, or to worship. They were, in short, minor deities to the Hindu people ; but yet the Swami was wonderfully unspoiled and simple, claiming nothing for himself, playing with the children, twirling a stick between his fingers with laughing skill and glee at their inability to equal him.

“All the people of that little place were moved and excited by this young man, in a manner beyond what might be accounted for by his coming from a strange country and a different people. He had another power, an unusual ability to bring his hearers into vivid sympathy with his own point of view. It repelled, in some cases, however, as strongly as it attracted, hut whether in support or opposition, it was difficult to keep a cool head or a level judgment when confronted with him.

“All the people of all degrees were interested ; women’s eyes blazed and their cheeks were red with excitement ; even the children of the village talked of what he had said to them : all the idle summer boarders trooped to hear him, and all the artists longingly observed him and wanted to paint him.

“lie told strange stories as ordinary people would mention the wonders of electricity, curious feats of legerdemain, and talcs of monks who had lived one hundred, or one hundred and thirty years ; but so-called occult societies drew down his most magnificent contempt. … He spoke of holy men who at a single glance converted hardened sinners and detected men’s inmost thoughts. . . . But these things were trifles ; always his thoughts turned hack to his people. He lived to raise them up and make them better and had come this long way in the hope of gaining help to teach them, to be practically more efficient. We hardly knew what he needed: money, if money would do it ; tools, advice, new ideas. And for this he was willing to die to-morrow. . . .

“His great heroine was the dreadful Rani of the Indian Mutiny, who led her troops in person. . . . Whenever he mentioned the Rani he would weep, with tears streaming down his face. ‘That woman was a goddess,’ he said, ‘a Devi. When overcome, she fell on her sword and died like a man.’

“In quoting from the Upanishads his voice was most musical. He would quote a verse in Sanskrit with intonations and then translate it into beautiful English, of which he had a wonderful command. And, in his mystical religion, he seemed perfectly and unquestionably happy.

. . And yet, when they gave him money, it seemed as if some injury had been done him and some disgrace put upon him. ‘Of all the worries I have ever had.’ he said, as he left us, ‘the greatest has been the care of this money!’ His horrified reluctance to take it haunted us.

He could not be made to see why he might not wander on in this country, as in his own, without touching a medium of exchange, which he considered disgraceful, and the pain he showed when it was made clear to him that without money he could not even move, hung round us for days after he left, as if wc had hurt some innocent thing or had wounded a soul. . . . And we saw him leave us after that one little week of knowing him, with the fear that clutches the heart when a beloved, gifted, passionate child fares forth, unconscious, in an untried world.”

This beautiful and interesting description of the Swami is only one out of hundreds that were written of him at the time* All his friends recognised in him “A Grand Seigneur” as Mrs* Leggett so aptly remarks. And this lady says, “In all my experience I have met but two celebrated personages that could make one feel perfectly at ease without themselves for an instant losing their own dignity—one the German Emperor, the other, Swami Vivekananda.” Truly he was, as the American papers spoke of him, “The Lordly Monk”.

Surveying the history of his work, one sees Swami Vivekananda moving through the West as some mighty, glorious and effulgent light. A Plato in thought, a modem Savonarola in his fearless outspokenness, and adored as a Master and as a Prophet, the Swami moved amongst his disciples as some great Bodhi-sattva amongst his devotees. Some looked upon him even as a Buddha, others as a Christ, some as a Rishi of the Upanishads, whilst others as a Shankaracharya ; and all regarded him as the embodiment of the Highest Consciousness. And certainly, when one listens to the words that were heralded in the tense stillness of that hour which followed his reception at the Parliament of Religions, one can only think of him as one speaking with Authority, having realised the Divinity he preached. His hands, raised in continual benediction, his voice, murmuring or thundering, as it might be, the Gospel of the Highest Consciousness, his face beaming with love and goodwill, Swami Vivekananda lives in the memory of America as the Man with a Message for the West, “One who walked with God”.

BACK TO LONDON AND A TOUR OF THE CONTINENT

On April, 15, 1896, Swami Vivekananda left New York for London. A pleasant surprise awaited him there. Swami Sarada-nanda had arrived from Calcutta on April 1 and was the guest of Mr. E. T. Sturdy. For several years the Swami had not seen any of the Gurubhais. So his meeting with Swami Sarada-nanda was an event of great joy. Swami Saradananda brought all the news from India. He told his brother-monk about the monastery in Alambazar and of every one of the Gurubhais. The Swami was full of plans at the time which he communicated to his brother-monk who was lost in wonder at his indefatigable energy and his apostolic fervour.

The Swami himself foresaw the success that lay before him on his second visit to England. All who had known him during his previous sojourn in London welcomed him back most cordially. Together with Swami Saradananda he made his home in St. George’s Road, as the guest of Miss Muller and Mr. Sturdy. Soon he found himself teaching privately and preaching publicly ; and the fame of his personality and utterances travelled wide. In a short time many persons of distinction, students of comparative religion and earnest seekers after truth were visiting his quarters and he was introduced to many new people who became his followers. He talked to them of the philosophies of India and their relation to modern life and explained to them the various forms of Yoga, and gathered round him a considerable number of people desirous of seriously studying the problem of human existence in their light.

In the beginning of May, 1896, the Swami began his regular classes, lecturing mostly on Jnana-Yoga, or the Path of Wisdom. Towards the end of May, he inaugurated a series of Sunday lectures in one of the galleries of the Royal Institute of Painters in Water-Colours in Picadilly. The subjects were, “The Necessity of Religion”, “A Universal Religion” and “The Real and the Apparent Man”. These three lectures proving a great success, another course was arranged for in Princes’ Hall for Sunday afternoons from the end of June to the middle of July. Among these lectures were “Bliakti-Yoga”, “Renunciation” and “Realisation”. Besides these, the Swami held regularly every week five classes at which the attendance was uniformly good, and on Friday evenings a question-and-answer class, which was especially educative. In his first series of class lectures he dealt mainly with the history of the Aryan race, its developments, its religious advance, and the diffusion of its religious influence. Besides his class lectures on Jnana-Yoga, he gave a course of lessons on Raja-Yoga. Then followed a series of discourses on Bhakti-Yoga. Shorthand reports of these ’lectures were taken down by Mr. Goodwin.

But all these classes and Sunday lectures and interviews did not by any means cover the whole of the work the Swami was doing in England. He lectured also in many drawingrooms, and at several well-known clubs. At the invitation of Mrs. Annie Besant he spoke at her lodge in Avenue Road, St. John’s Wood, on Bhakti. He also delivered an address on “The Hindu Idea of Soul” at the residence of Mrs. Martin.

The Swami also spoke at Notting Hill Gate at the residence of Mrs. Hunt, as well as at Wimbledon, when a good deal of helpful discussion followed the lecture and several other meetings of a similar nature were arranged for. At the Sesame Club, he delivered an address on “Education”. Swami Saradananda writing to the Brahmavddin of June 6, says:

“Swami Vivekananda has made a good beginning here. A large number of people attend his classes regularly and the lectures are most interesting. Canon Haweis, one of the leaders of the Anglican Church, came the other day and was much interested. He had seen the Swami before at the Chicago Fair, and loved him from that time. On Tuesday last the Swami lectured on Education at the Sesame Club. It is an important club organised by women for the education of their sex. In this he dealt with the old educational systems of India, pointed out clearly and impressively that the sole aim of the system was ‘man-making’ and not cramming, and compared it with the present system.”

The Swami was warmly received at the residence of Canon Wilberforce, where a levee was held in his honour, in which many distinguished ladies and gentlemen took part.

Mr. Eric Hammond in recording his reminiscences of the Swami’s visit to London and especially of a lecture before a club says:

“On his arrival in London, Swami Vivekananda was welcomed in the quiet, thoughtful, semi-calculating way to which Londoners generally habituate themselves. Perhaps the Missionary, everywhere, is met by an atmosphere not exactly antagonistic, but, at the best, doubtful. That Swamiji recognised this clement of doubt and of wonderment is certain, and it is certain too, that his winning personality cleared a way through it and found glad welcome in many hearts.

“Clubs, societies, drawing-rooms opened their doors to him. Sets of students grouped themselves together in this quarter and that, and heard him at appointed intervals. His hearers, hearing him, longed to hear further.

“At one of these meetings, at the close of his address, a white-haired and well-known Philosopher said to the Swami, ‘You have spoken splendidly, sir, and I thank you heartily, but you have told us nothing new.* The lecturer’s sonorous tones rang through the room in reply, ‘Sir, I have told you the Truth. That, the Truth, is as old as the immemorial hills, as old as humanity, as old as the Creation, as old as the Great God. If I have told it in such words as will make you think, make you live up to your thinking, do I not do well in telling it?’ The murmur of ‘Hear!’ ‘Hear’! and the louder clapping of hands showed how completely the Swami had carried his audience with him. One lady present on that occasion, and on many more, said, ‘I have attended church services regularly all ruy life. Their monotony and lack of vitality had made them barren and distasteful. I went to them because others went and one hates to be peculiar. Since I heard the Swami, light has flooded into religion. It is real ; it lives ; it lias a new glad meaning and is altogether transformed for me.*

“ ‘I will tell yow how ,’ came to know the Truth,’ continued the Swami, and in the telling they learned something of the earth-life of Sliri Rama-krishna ; the sublime simplicity of his character ; his indefatigable search for Truth in this religions phase and that; his discovery and his fine proclamation of it:    ‘Where I am, there the Truth is!’

“ ‘I found Truth,’ said the Swami, ‘because I had it in my heart already. Do not deceive yourselves. Do not imagine you will find it in one creed or in another creed. It is within you. Your creed will not give it to you, you must give it to your creed. Men and priests give it various names. They bid you believe one thing and another thing. Listen: You have it within yourself, this pearl of great price. That which exists is one. Listen :‘Thou art That!’

“From first to last of this address lie dwelt on the message of his Master, Shri Ramakrishna. He had, he said, not one little word of his own to utter, not one infinitesimal thought of his own to unfold. Every* thing, every single thing, all he was himself, all lie could be to us. all he might be to the world, came from that single source ; from the pure soul, from the illimitable inspiration who, seated ’there in my beloved India, had solved the tremendous secret and bestowed the solution broadcast, ungrudgingly, with divine prodigality.*

“In passages of exquisite eloquence he dilated upon Shri Ramakrishna. Self was utterly forgotten, altogether ignored. ‘I am what I am. and what I am is always due to him, whatever in me or in iny words is good and true and eternal came to me from his mouth, his heart, his soul. Sliri Ramakrishna is the spring of this phase of the earth’s religious life, of its impulses and its activities. If I can show the world one glimpse of my Master I shall not live in vain.* ’’

One cannot read the above eloquent tribute of the Swami to his Master without noting a beautiful phase of his character —how even in the midst of his triumphs when he was hirnself hailed on all sides as Master, he again and again pointed out in all humility that he was only a disciple of Shri Ramakrishna at whose feet he had learned everything, that the credit of his teaching was not his but was due to his Master. It is only a true disciple that can be a true Master.

The Indian students resident in London naturally looked to him for guidance. The Swami endeared himself to them all by making them feel quite at home with him and helping them in various ways. And so when on July 18, a social conference of Indian residents in Great Britain and Ireland was held under the auspices of the London Hindu Association, it was he who was asked to preside. The subject of the discourse was, “The Hindus and Their Needs”. At this meeting many English ladies and gentlemen were present.

The Swami worked indefatigably in these days, even more than he had done during his previous visit. It must be noted that even at that time in the midst of his multifarious activities he had devoted a good deal of his time in helping Mr. Sturdy in his translation of the Ndrada-Sutras on Bhakti-Yoga. The book which was published about this time, with copious commentaries by the Swami, was deservedly popular.

One of the memorable events, during the Swami’s stay in London, was his meeting with the celebrated Orientalist, Professor Max Muller of Oxford University, at his residence, by special invitation, on May 28. Of that pleasant experience the Swami himself wrote as follows to the Brahmavadin on June 6:

. . What an extraordinary man is Professor Max Muller! I paid a visit to him a few days ago. I should say, that. I went to pay my respects to him, for whosoever loves Shri Ramakrishna, whatever be his or her sect, or creed, or nationality, my visit to that person I hold as a pilgrimage. . . .

“The Professor was first induced to inquire about the power behind, which led to sudden and momentous changes in the life of the late Kcshab Chandra Sen, the great Brahmo leader ; and since then, he has been an earnest student and admirer of the life and teachings of Shri Ramakrishna. ‘Ramakrishna is worshipped by thousands today, Professor,’ I said. ‘To whom else shall worship be accorded, if not to such?’ was his answer. The Professor was kindness itself, and asked Mr. Sturdy and myself to lunch with him. He showed us several colleges in Oxford, and the Bodleian Library. He also accompanied us to the railway station, and all this he did because, as he said, ‘It is not every day one meets with a disciple of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa.’

“The visit was really a revelation to me. That nice little house, its setting of a beautiful garden, the silver-headed sage, with a face calm and benign, and forehead smooth as a child’s in spite of seventy winters, and every line in that face speaking of a deep-seated mine of spirituality somewhere behind ; that noble wife, the helpmate of his life through his long and arduous task of exciting interest, overriding opposition and contempt, and at last creating a respect for the thoughts of the sages of ancient India—the trees, the flowers, the calmness and the clear sky—all these sent me back in imagination to the glorious days of ancient India, the days of our Brahmarsliis and RAjarshis, the days of the great VAna-prasthas, the days of Arundhatis and Vasishthas.

“It was neither the Philologist nor the Scholar that I saw, but a soul that is every day realising its oneness with the Brahman, a heart, that is every moment expanding to reach oneness with the Universal. . . .

“. . . And what love he bears towards India! I wish I had a hundredth part of that love for my own motherland. Endued with an extraordinary, and, at the same time, an intensely active mind, he has lived and moved in the world of Indian thought for fifty years or more, and watched the sharp interchange of light and shade in the interminable forest of Sanskrit literature with deep interest and heart-felt love, till they have all sunk into his very soul and coloured his whole being. Max M tiller is a Vcdantist of Vedantists. . . .

“ ‘When are you coming to India? Every heart there would welcome one who lias done so much to place the thoughts of their ancestors in the true light,’ I said. The face of the aged sage brightened up—there was almost a tear in his eye, a gentle nodding of the head, and slowly the words came out:    ‘I would not return then ; you would have to cremate me there.’ Further questions seemed an unwarrantable intrusion into realms wherein are stored the holy secrets of man’s heart.”

This letter was written by the Swami shortly after the Professor had written an article, from information gathered in India, concerning Shri Ramakrishna, which was to appear in the Nineteenth Century> entitled “A Real Mahatman”. Out of the enthusiasm with which the Swami had inspired him, he asked, “What are you doing to make him known to the world?” He was anxious to know more concerning the Master and said that he would be glad to write a large and fuller account of his life and teaching, provided ampler facts and details were given him. The Swami at once commissioned Swami Saradananda to get into communication with India and to collect as much as was possible of the sayings of Shri Ramakrishna and of the facts concerning his life. This was done ; and the Professor set to work at once and jnibodied them in a book which has been published under the title, Ramakrishna :    His Life and Sayings. This book breathes a fervid devotional and yet critical spirit, and contains a number of the Master’s sayings. It has aided materially in giving the Swami and his mission a firmer hold on the English-speaking world. The Swami and the Professor were frequent correspondents and fast friends. Only in matters of philosophical criticism did they sometimes differ.

The Swami was in the highest spiritual moods during his stay in London. Oftentimes he was all radiance and ecstasy, with infinite love and sympathy for everybody and everything, and nothing better illustrates this than a letter dated July 6, which he addressed to Mr. Francis H. Leggett in the endearing term of “Frankincense”, and which reads as follows:

“. . . Things are going on with me very well on this side of the Atlantic.

“The Sunday lectures were quite successful, so were the classes. The season has ended and I too am thoroughly exhausted. I am going to make a tour in Switzerland with Miss Muller. . . .

. . Well, the work is growing silently yet surely in England. Almost every other man or woman came to me and talked about the work. This British Empire with all its drawbacks is the greatest, machine that ever existed for the dissemination of ideas. I mean to put my ideas in the centre of this machine, and they will spread all over the world. Of course, all great work is slow and the difficulties are too many, especially as we Hindus are the conquered race. Yet, that is the very reason why it is bound to work ; for spiritual ideals have always come from the downtrodden. Jews overwhelmed the Roman Empire with their spiritual ideals. You will be pleased to know that I am also learning my lessons every day in patience and, above all, in sympathy. I think I am beginning to see the Divine, even inside the haughty ‘Anglo-Indians’. I think I am slowly approaching to that state when I would be able to love the very ‘Devil’ himself, if there were any.

“At twenty I was the most unsympathetic, uncompromising fanatic ; I would not walk on the footpath, on the theatre-side of the streets in Calcutta. At thirty-three I can live in the same house with prostitutes and never would think of saying a word of reproach to them. Is it degenerate? Or is it that I am broadening out into that Universal Love which is the Lord Himself ? Again, I have heard that if one docs not sec the evil around one, one cannot do good work—one lapses into a sort of fatalism. I do not see that. On the other hand, my power of work is immensely increasing and becoming immensely effective. Some days I get into a sort of ecstasy. I feel that I must bless everyone, everything, love and embrace everything, and I do see that evil is a delusion. I am in one of these moods now, dear Francis, and am actually shedding tears of joy at the thought of your and Mrs. Leggett’s love and kindness to me. I bless the day I was bom. I have had so much of kindness and love here ; and that Love Infinite that brought me into being, has guarded every one of my actions good or bad (don’t be frightened). For what am I, what was I ever but a tool in His hands, for whose service I have given up everything—my beloved ones, iny joy, my life? He is my playful darling, I am His playfellow. There is neither rhyme nor reason in the Universel What reason binds Him? He the Playful One is playing these tears and laughters over all parts of the play! Great fun, great fun, as Joe says.

“It is a funny world and the funniest chap you ever saw is He— the Beloved Infinite! Fun, is it not ? Brotherhood or playmatehood—a school of romping children let out to play in this playground of the world! Isn’t it? Whom to praise, whom to blame, it is all His play! They want explanations, but how can you explain Him? He is brainless, nor has He any reason. He is fooling us with little brains and reason, but this time He won’t find me napping.

“I have learnt a thing or two: beyond, beyond reason and learning and talking is the feeling, the Love’, the ‘Beloved*. Aye, ‘Sake’, fill up the cup and we will be mad.

Yours ever in madness, Vivekananda.”

Here one has Swami Vivekananda himself. We see him in a mood, almost akin to the ecstasy of Saint Francis of Assisi, or bordering on that Divine Madness which possessed the Sufis of old, as he speaks of his Beloved Lord.

But returning to a consideration of the Swami’s work, it will be hard to gauge the import and character of it and the interest it created in London. It was more spiritual than organised. Many ministers of the Gospel and distinguished clergymen were caught up in the grandeur and the freshness of the thought he sent forth. Distinguished intellectual and society people were captivated until it seemed as if some great movement was about to be born in his name. He conferred the spirit, leaving the form to be organised later, in whatsoever way it might be possible. He often said of himself that he was not an organiser, but a preacher and a monk ; and it is in this sense that his work in England must be regarded.

But apart from the public significance of the Swami’s work in London, his second visit is memorable ; for he made then some of the most valuable contacts of his life and gathered to his fold some of the most diligent and heroic workers and helpers in his cause. True, in his previous visit he had made acquaintances which ripened into friendship with such talented souls as Miss Henrietta Muller, Miss M. E. Noble, Mr. E. T. Sturdy and others, but now they became his disciples, ready to sacrifice everything for him and his cause. To this group were added two of his most faithful disciples, Mr. and Mrs. Sevier, of whom we shall often have occasion to speak later. Mr. and Mrs. Sevier met Swamiji soon after his arrival in London, having heard from a mutual friend that a Hindu preacher was going to hold classes on Eastern philosophy. Both of them were earnest students of religion and sought for the Highest Truth in various sects and creeds, but none of these satisfied the yearning of their souls. They were disappointed with the forms and theological dogmas which passed under the name of religion. So it was with expectant hearts that they came to listen to the exposition of a new religion from the lips of an “Indian Yogi”. What was the surprise of the devoted couple to find on comparing notes that they, when hearing the Swami, had felt intuitively and simultaneously thus: “This is the man and this is the philosophy that we have been seeking in vain all through our life.” What appealed to them most was the Advaita philosophy. The very first time they met the Swami in private, the latter addressed Mrs. Sevier as “Mother”, and asked her, “Would you not like to come to India? I will give you of my best realisations.” From that day they looked upon the Swami not only as their Guru but as their own son. Thus was established a relationship which was to bring forth inestimable fruits in the fulfilment of one of the Swami’s great missions to the West. Indeed, he held Miss Noble (Sister Nivedita), J. J. Goodwin and Mr. and Mrs. Sevier as the fairest flowers of his work in England.

Exhausted with the strenuous exertions of his London work, the Swami accepted the invitation of three of his more intimate friends for a tour and a holiday on the Continent. He was “as delighted as a child” at the prospect. Those who planned the Swami’s holiday and accompanied him on his tour were Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Sevier and Miss Henrietta Muller. For some time, they had been urging the Swami to rest, for they felt that he could not endure much longer the strain of his work. Then, too, it was the holiday season for London in general; and many of the Swami’s students and admirers were leaving the metropolis for seaside or mountain resorts. When the suggestion was made to him, the Swami readily assented. He was particularly eager to visit Switzerland. He said, “O! I long to see the snows and wander on the mountain paths!”

So in the afternoon of one of the last days in July, the Swami and his friends left London with the best wishes of all his students and disciples. Arriving at Dover, the party took passage to Calais. The English Channel, often choppy, chanced on this occasion to be comparatively calm. In order to break the long journey between Calais and Geneva the travellers spent the night in Paris. On the following day, they resumed their journey, arriving in excellent spirits at Geneva. The hotel in which the party found accommodation overlooked the beautiful and peaceful lake. The cool invigorating air, the intense blue of the waters, the sky and the fields, the picturcsquencss of the houses, and the novelty of things about him deeply appealed to the Swami.

Geneva is a great bathing-resort, and the Swami availed himself twice of the opportunity for full water bathing. A visit to the Castle of Chillon ended a three days’ sojourn in this historic city. They originally intended to remain longer, but the programme was suddenly changed, and we next find the travellers in the far-famed retreat of Chamounix, some forty miles away. When they approached this place, the grand spectacle of Mont Blanc opened up to view, presenting a vision which the Swami said he had not enjoyed even amidst the Himalayas. He cried out, “This is really wonderful! Here we are actually in the midst of the snows. In India the snows are so far distant. One walks for days and days amidst the mountains to come near them. But then, these are mere hills compared with those mighty peaks that tower on the borders of Tibet. Yet this is beautiful! Come! let us make the ascent of Mont Blanc.” But the guides told them that only skilled mountaineers should attempt such a feat. This was a disappointment to the Swami, but as he gazed through the telescope and saw the appallingly steep ascents, he granted that it was impracticable. However, he was bent on crossing a glacier at all costs. Without this, he felt, his visit to Switzerland would be incomplete. Fortunately the famous Mer-de-Glace was within easy approach. Accordingly several days later, the party travelled on mules to the village whence the passage over the glacier begins. The actual expedition was not so pleasant as the Swami had anticipated. It was difficult to keep his footing, even though he admired the beautiful green tints of the crevasses. They were appallingly deep and so beyond much.

When the glacier proper is crossed a very steep ascent must be climbed to reach the village above. It was here that the Swami suffered from vertigo for the first time in his life. This vertigo made it very unsafe, and he was glad when he reached the little chalet at the summit without any untoward accident.

The Swami observing the characteristics of the peasantry, remarked to his friends, “Why, these people in many of their manners and in their costumes remind me of the peasants in the hills of the Himalayas! Those long baskets that the people carry on their backs are exactly like those used in the mountainous districts of my country.” It was in the Himalayas of Europe that those who were to be the founders of the Advaita Ashrama and dedicate their lives to it, heard for the first time of the Swami’s longing to establish a monastery in the heart of his beloved Himalayas. He said, “O, I long for such a monastery where I can retire from the labours of my life and pass the rest of my days in meditation. It will be a centre for work and meditation, where my Indian and Western disciples can live together and them I shall train as workers, the former to go out as preachers of Vedanta to the West, and the latter to devote their lives to the good of India.” A thought, something akin to vision, crossed the minds of his disciples ; and Mr. Sevier, speaking for himself and his wife, said, “How nice it would be, Swamiji, if this could be done. We must have such a monastery!” At the time, it was only a passing remark, but as the months went by, that stray remark made in the heights of the Alps, was seen to have been prophetic, for so deep had the idea sunk into the hearts of those disciples that the Swami’s great desire was fulfilled through their practical help and co-operation.

From Chamounix, the travellers visited the village of Little Saint Bernard. High above rises the famous Saint Bernard Pass, on the crest of which stands the celebrated hospice of the Augustinian monks, the highest inhabited spot in Europe. At the request of Miss Muller, the party next wandered on to an interesting retreat some miles away, where a sojourn of two  weeks was made. The Swami was at his best in this village, nestling in the Alps. On all sides rose the snow-capped peaks ; all about was the silence and the peace of village life. No rude note of worldliness crept in here. It was here that the Swami enjoyed some of the most lucid and luminous spiritual moments of his life. He seemed far, far away from all worldly concerns. The world and all thought of work were forgotten entirely. He was not even the Teacher, but the silent, meditating monk of old. Many times he walked silently on the mountain paths, and his friends seemed to be caught up with him in a world of meditation and of peace. One of those who were with him in this wondrous fortnight says, “There seemed to be a great light about him, and a great stillness and peace. Never have I seen the Swami to such advantage. He seemed to communicate spirituality by a look or with a touch. One could almost read his thoughts which were of the highest, so transfigured had his personality become! ”

Two weeks of this quiet life completely restored the Swami. There was only one incident of a slightly disturbing character. He had been walking one morning with his friends, reciting and translating passages from the Upanishads, creating in the Alps an Indian atmosphere. On this morning, lost in reverent contemplation he gradually dropped behind. After some short time, they saw him approaching rapidly, calling out in great excitement, “I have been saved by the grace of the Lord! I nearly fell over a precipice. I was walking along, planting my alpenstock firmly on the ground. Suddenly it broke through into a deep crevice and I almost fell over the precipice. Certainly it was only a miracle that saved me!” His friends were greatly agitated when they heard this and congratulated themselves and the Swami over his marvellous escape. Thenceforth they took special care never again to leave him alone.

On the way homewards, there was a little mountain chapel. As the Swami saw it, he said quietly, “Do let us offer some flowers at the feet of the Virgin!” His face shone with great tenderness, and he went forth, one of the party accompanying him, and gathered some Alpine flowers. “Offer them at the feet of the Virgin,” he said to Mrs. Sevier, “as a token of my gratitude and devotion.” And with a strange note of religious certainty, he added, “For She also is the Mother.” He would have offered them himself, but feared that the fact that he was not a Christian might cause trouble.

At this out-of-the-way village in Switzerland the Swami received news, which changed the course of his continental tour ; it was in the form of an urgent letter from the well-known Orientalist, Paul Deussen, Professor of Philosophy at the University of Kiel. He had written to the Swami’s London address, cordially inviting him to visit him at his residence in Kiel. The Professor had been studying the Swami’s lectures and utterances, and found in him an original thinker and a spiritual genius. Deeply interested as he was in the Vedanta philosophy, and having recently returned from Hindusthan itself, he naturally desired to meet the Swami to discuss philosophical questions with him. The Swami therefore made plans to go to Kiel before returning to England. But his hosts insisted that he should complete his Swiss tour before going to Kiel, and arranged that he should also see something of Germany on the way. Urgent business, however, compelled Miss Muller to leave the party at Lucerne, the destination next in view.

At Lucerne, visits were paid to all the places of interest and, with the exception of Mr. Sevier, all made the ascent of Mount Rigi by the mountain railway, a fascinating experience, the view from the summit commanding one of the finest snow vistas in the world. He was now restless to proceed onwards ; and so bidding farewell to his disciple, Miss Muller, he and Mr. and Mrs. Sevier journeyed to Zermatt, one of the beauty spots of Switzerland, where he hoped to climb the Komergrat and to secure the view of the Matterhorn. But of the party only Mr. Sevier succeeded in reaching the summit, the air being too rarefied for the other two. The next move was made to Schaffhausen, where the Falls of the Rhine are seen at their best.

From Schaffhausen the three tourists went to Heidelberg, the centre of one of the greatest German Universities, where two days were spent. A visit to the University and the caatle above the city was made. Then on to Coblenz. Here a halt was made for the night, and on the next day the party boarded a steamer to journey up the Rhine as far as the city of Cologne, where the travellers expected to stay several days. The Swami marvelled at the great cathedral and attended a service there, and visited its sanctuary.

Mr. and Mrs. Sevier had planned to take tlieir guest from Cologne direct to Kiel, but he was anxious to see the great city of Berlin. His hosts, eager to please him, made a large detour, intending not only to visit Berlin, but Dresden as well. The Swami was struck with the general prosperity of the country and with the large number of its cities built after the modem style. Berlin with its wide streets, fine monuments and beautiful parks made him compare it favourably even with Paris itself.

When he was informed that their next destination was Dresden, he hesitated saying, “Professor Dcusscn will be expecting us. Wc must not defer our visit longer.” Accordingly the party proceeded to Kiel. A very interesting account of this visit recorded by Mrs. Sevier who, together with her husband, was also invited to be the guests of the Deussen family, is given here:

“. . . My recollection of Kiel, a town in Germany, which is beautifully situated on the Baltic, is bright with agreeable memories of a pleasant day spent in the society of Dr. Paul Dcusscn, Professor of Philosophy in the University there—a man of rare philosophical grasp, standing foremost in the rank of European Sanskrit scholars,

“On hearing that the Swami had arrived at the hotel, the Professor immediately sent a note requesting his company at breakfast on the following day, courteously including my husband and myself in the invitation. Punctually at 10 o’clock the next morning we presented ourselves at his house, and were ushered into the Library, where we received a cordial reception from Dr. and Mrs. Deussen who were expecting us. After a few preliminary inquiries regarding the travels and plans of Swamiji, I noticed the Professor directing his eyes to some volumes lying open on the table, and with a scholar’s appreciation of learning, he soon turned the conversation on books. … He considered the system of the Vedanta as founded on the Upanishads and Veddnta-Sutras, with Shankaracharya’s commentaries, some of the most majestic structures and valuable products of the genius of man in his search for Truth, and that the highest and purest morality is the immediate consequence of the Vedanta. . . .

“It seems, the Professor added, that a movement is being made back towards the fountain-head of spirituality, a movement that will in the future, probably make India, the spiritual leader of the nations, the highest and greatest spiritual influence on earth,

“The Swami interested himself in some translations Dr. Deussen was making, and a discussion arose on the precise significance and correct understanding of various obscure passages. The former pointed out that clearness of definition was of primary, and elegance of diction of very secondary importance. The vigorous and lucid interpretations given by the Oriental exegetist with such firmness or conviction, and yet such delicacy of perception, eventually quite won over the German savant. . .

But to return to the narration of the day spent in Kiel. Some time during the day, the Professor found the Swami turning over the pages of a poetical work. He spoke to him but got no response. When the Swami came to know of it afterwards, he apologised, saying that he was so absorbed in reading that he had not heard him. The Professor was not satisfied with this explanation until, in the course of conversation the Swami quoted and interpreted verses from the book. Dr. Deussen was dumbfounded, and like the Maharaja of Klietri asked the Swami how he could accomplish such a feat of memory. Thereupon the conversation turned upon the subject of the concentration of the mind as practised by the Indian Yogi, and that with so much perfection that, the Swami said from personal knowledge, in that state he would be unconscious even if a piece of burning charcoal were placed on his body.

At this time, there was an exhibition in Kiel, which Dr. Deussen insisted that the Swami must visit and offered to take him there. So immediately after tea, the Swami’s party accompanied their host to the exhibition, and some time was spent in studying the various arts and industries of Germany. Partaking of light refreshments there the party returned to the hotel where the Swami was staying. The Professor suggested that the Swami should see the objects of interest in and about the city, and it was decided that on the next day they would all make an excursion to some of the outlying districts, notably to the famous harbour of Kiel, opened only a few days previously by the Kaiser.

About six weeks had been spent in holiday touring and the Swami felt that he could now take up his London work again with renewed vigour. Accordingly, he asked Mr. and Mrs. Sevier to make plans for returning immediately. Dr. Deussen had hoped that the Swami would prolong his visit so that he would have opportunities to discuss many philosophical matters with him in the quiet retreat of his own residence, where his treasure-room of learning and of books would have added much to the interest of their discussions. He tried to induce the Swami to remain if only for a few days, but when he was told that the Swami was anxious to put his work on a solid basis before returning to India which he intended to do in the near future the Professor understood and said, “Well, then, Swami, I shall meet you in Hamburg, and thence, via Holland, we shall both journey to London, where I hope to spend many happy hours with you/’

At Hamburg Professor Deussen joined them. The party, with its additional member, went to Amsterdam for three days, during which time they visited the art galleries, the museums, and other places of interest.

The channel crossing, a most unpleasant voyage, was fortunately soon over. Professor Deussen made his home with friends in St. John’s Wood, while the Swami accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Sevier to their home in Hampstead. The Swami was much improved in health and felt that he could meet the demands of his work with renewed energy and enthusiasm.

Having initiated Swami Saradananda by personal example and instructions into the manner and matter of the preaching work that he would be called upon to take up, the Swami at the repeated requests of his disciples and students of Vedanta in America, had sent him to New York, at the end of June, in the company of Mr. J. J. Goodwin. The sweet and gentle personality of the new teacher and his masterly exposition of Hinduism, at once drew to him large numbers of men and women in America, “who were attracted to the Vedfinta by the other Swami’s eloquence and example, but who had not had sufficient opportunity for personal contact to become what one would call, established in it”. Soon after his arrival he was invited to be one of the teachers in the Greenacre Conference of Comparative Religions, where he began his work with a lecture on Vedanta, and classes on the Yoga Systems, under the large Pine tree known as the “Swami’s Pine”, which had served as a canopy and open pulpit for Swami Vivekananda two years ago. At the close of the Conference, Swami Sarada-nanda was invited to lecture in Brooklyn, New York and Boston. During his tour on the Continent, the Swami was delighted with the news of his brother-disciple’s immediate success and constantly growing influence, and to hear, from private letters, that the students’ expectations of their new teacher were fully satisfied.

After a few days’ stay with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier in Hampstead, the Swami commenced his work by giving two drawing room lectures within the first two weeks at Airlie Lodge, Ridgeway Gardens, the residence of Miss Muller at Wimbledon. On the first occasion Mr. J. F. Schwam presided and the room was crowded, the majority of attendance being society ladies. The Swami spoke on “Vedanta as a Factor in Civilisation”. The lecture was a great success and it was followed by the opening of systematic classes in which the Swami gave both private and general instruction, teaching many the principles of Raja-Yoga and the practices of meditation.

His public lectures in England were mostly devoted to the exposition of the philosophical portions of the Vedanta, known as Jnana-Yoga. In order to grant the general public an opportunity of hearing the Swami, Mr. E. T. Sturdy had engaged a large room at 39 Victoria Street with ample accommodation. Close by Mr. and Mrs. Sevier had taken a flat, at 14 Grey Coat Gardens, Westminster, for the Swami and his Gumbhai, Swami Abhedananda, who had just arrived from India at the urgent call of the Swami to help him in his London work. The Swami did all in his power to impress the new-comer with the responsibilities of his new life. Day after day he trained him so that he would be able to carry on the work alone. He was thinking of sailing for India at the end of the year and was therefore eager to leave behind a worker, fitted both spiritually and intellectually to take his place.

At this time he was writing also to his Indian disciples giving them instructions on various subjects, keeping them informed of the progress of his London work, which was growing apace. He was hopeful and enthusiastic, stating that with twenty earnest-minded and capable preachers of Vedanta he could convert the West in as many years. He realised the vast importance of his work so far as its influence on the Indian public was concerned, for he wrote, “One blow struck outside of India is equal to hundred thousand struck within.”

Professor Deussen often visited the Swami, discussing with him the principles of the Vedanta and gaining from him a much clearer insight into the whole body of Vedanta thought. He was in thorough agreement with the Swami when the latter pointed out to him the difficulties that lay in the way of a thorough understanding of the Vedanta metaphysics by Western minds, the trouble resting in the fact that the Western philosopher was apt to regard Indian idealism through the lens of preconceived ideas. And as he came to know the Swami more intimately, he understood that one must become de-Occidental-ised, as it were, in order to master the spirit of the Hindu philosophical systems, for these were not so much systems of logic as methods of spiritual vision. For two whole weeks, during his stay in London, the Professor was with the Swami, either by day or by night. At the same time Professor Max Muller of Oxford was in communication with the Swami.

From Switzerland the Swami had written to an Indian disciple, “There is a big London work waiting for me next month,” and so it proved to be. The most notable feature of his work during the months of October and November, was his delivery of the message of the Vedanta both in its most practical and highest metaphysical aspects. He opened his lecture course with a masterly exposition of that most abstruse subject, the Hindu theory of Maya, to define which has not only confounded the best Sanskrit scholars of the West but puzzled even the ancient philosophers of his own land. In fact, the burden of all his subsequent lectures in London was the idea of Maya. How successfully he has achieved this most difficult task will be apprehended by every one who carefully studies his lectures on “Maya and Illusion”, “Maya and the Evolution of the Conception of God”, “Maya and Freedom”, “The Absolute and Manifestation”. In his other lectures delivered during the period which followed, such as “God in Everything”, “Realisation”, “Unity in Diversity”, “The Freedom of the Soul”, as also in the last series of four lectures known as “The Practical Vedanta”, one sees the Swami full of the one luminous thought of the Advaita, that there is but One Infinite Existence, the Sat-Chit-Ananda, the Existence, Knowledge, and Bliss Absolute—and That is the innermost nature of man, and, as such, the soul of man is, in essence, eternally free and divine, all manifestations being but the varying expressions of this nature of the Soul. No better exposition of a rationalistic religion—upon which, the Swami believed, depended the salvation of Europe—could be conceived than these unique presentments of the Highest Truth. Extraordinarily equipped as he was to garb the greatest metaphysical truths in a poetic language of wonderful depth and profundity, he made the dizzy heights of Advaita appear like a land rich with the verdure of noblest human aspiration and fragrant with the flowers of finest emotions. The tremendous power of his personality behind his utterances, made every word fall like a thunderbolt upon his audience. In one of his lectures on Maya he rose to such heights of feeling that his whole audience were transported out of themselves, so much so that they lost all sense of personality, as it were, being merged in the consciousness of the Highest for the time being. In such moments as these, his hearers admitted, a teacher can transmit his realisation even by a spoken word and make his pupils touch the borderlands of the Infinite. All these lectures were delivered on the spur of the moment, without the least preparation.

During the months of October and November the Swami also received numerous invitations to lecture in private drawing-rooms, in fashionable clubs and to select audiences in London and Oxford. He made a friend of Canon Wilberforce who received him at his residence in Westminster with great cordiality and marked attention, and became a keen student of the Vedanta philosophy. Several times he spoke before the Sesame Club, and some of the members became his ardent followers. Among many other celebrities with whom he came in contact were Mr. Frederick H. Myers, the well-known author of several psychological works, the Rev. John Page Hopps, the Nonconformist minister, Mr. Moncure D. Conway, the Positivist and peace advocate, Dr. Stanton Coit, the Rev. Charles Voysey, the Theistic leader, Mr. Edward Carpenter, the author of Towards Democracy, and many other persons of culture and enlightenment. Not only many Nonconformist clergymen, but even high clericals of the Anglican Church, were deeply impressed with the principles of the Vedanta ; and on several occasions the Swami himself went to churches where he listened to sermons, the ideas of which were characteristic of that advanced religious thought which he had propagated.

At this time the Swami was occupied with “writing something big on the Vedanta philosophy”, as he said in a letter, and was “busy collecting passages from the various Vedas bearing on the Vedanta in its threefold aspect”. Besides numerous private interviews, many classes a week, and constant writing and public lecturing, he was planning for his work in India and giving instructions accordingly to his Indian disciples and Gurubhais. He was unable to fulfil his long-cherished desire of leaving a systematised statement of his philosophy in book form before departing for India. It, however, was a matter for satisfaction to him to see that there was a great demand for his published lectures and class lessons especially for his Raja-Yoga, the first edition of which had been sold out by October, and that there were already standing orders for several hundreds when the second edition went to press in November. But the idea of writing books on Hindu philosophy never left him, and even as late as January 1901, when he came to Mayavati, he said to his disciples that he was seriously thinking of retiring from public life to devote the rest of his days to writing books in a secluded spot—and no other place he could think of, he said, was more suitable for this than Mayavati.

All this work was beginning to tax him ; he was growing more and more world-weary. The old Paramahamsa spirit which feels the bondage of any work—even that of doing good to others—as unbearable, possessed him at times and he longed to throw it off and to be merged in the Infinite Peace. Even as early as August 23, he had written from Lucerne in Switzerland:

“I have begun the work, let others work it out. So you sec, to set the work going I had to defile myself by touching money and property, for a time. Now I am sure my part of the work is done and I have no more interest in Vedanta or any philosophy in the world, or in the work itself. I am gel ting ready to depart to return no more to this hell, this world.

“Even its religious utility is beginning to pall on me …. These works and doing good and so forth are just a little exercise to cleanse the mind. I have had enough of it. . . .“

But though the Swami felt and wrote in this fashion, the Will of the Lord was otherwise. He was yet to do a world of work in his own land in the re-statement and re-valuation of the Sanatana Dharrna. The Swami had been writing from England, even as he did formerly from America, to the effect that his disciples must learn to stand on their own feet, and must be filled with his own enthusiasm and spread the new light all over India. And again from Switzerland he wrote, “Do not be afraid. Great things are going to be done, my children. Take heart. . . . In the winter I am going back to India and will try to set things on their feet there. Work on, brave hearts, fail not—no saying nay; work on—the Lord is behind the work. Mahashakti is with you. . . .” And in India the work was being pushed on by his disciples. The Brahmavadin was disseminating the Swami’s ideas broadcast, and instilling into the hearts of the people the great ideals of Hinduism, One of the events which satisfied the Swami immensely, was the success of the maiden speech of Swami Abhedananda, whom he had designated to speak in his stead at a club in Bloomsbury Square, on October 27. The new monk gave an excellent address on the general character of the Vedanta teaching; and it was noticed that he possessed spiritual fervour and possibilities of making a good speaker. A description of this occasion, written by Mr. Eric Hammond, reads:

“Sonic disappointment awaited those that had gathered that afternoon. It was announced that Swamiji did not intend to speak, and Swami Abheda-nanda would address them instead.

“An overwhelming joy was noticeable in the Swami in his scholar’s success. Joy compelled him to put at least some of itself into words that rang with delight unalloyed. It was the joy of a spiritual father over the achievement of a wcll-belovcd son, a successful and brilliant student. The Master was more than content to have effaced himself in order that his Brother’s opportunity should be altogether unhindered. The whole impression had in it a glowing beauty quite indescribable. It was as though the Master thought and knew his thought to be true:    ‘Even if I perish on this plane, my message will be sounded through these dear lips and the world will hear it. . . .’ He remarked that this was the first appearance of his dear Brother and pupil, as an English-speaking lecturer before an English audience, and he pulsated with pure pleasure at the applause that followed the remark. His selflessness throughout the episode burnt itself into one’s deepest memory.’’

At this time the Swami was also delighted to hear frequently of Swami Saradananda’s success in America chiefly through the newspaper cuttings sent to him. Following upon his teaching at the Greenacre Conference, Swami Saradananda had gone to deliver lectures at Boston, Brooklyn and New York, and everywhere had made many friends and won the love and esteem of earnest followers. He then settled down in New York to carry on the Vedanta movement in a regular and well-organised way. There was no doubt that he was making an impression among some of the best people in New York and its environs, as the reports of his work at this time testify.

Moreover, Miss Waldo whom the Swami regarded as his ablest and best-prepared student, had at his express desire organised classes of her own and was conducting them with great credit. Among her other labours, during the absence of the Swami Saradananda in Cambridge for November and December, she conducted the classes in the Vedanta Society in New York.

That the interest in the VecUinta philosophy went on steadily increasing in America since the Swami left for England, and that he was remembered with endearing love and gratitude by his students, will be evidenced by the following letter written to the editor of the Brahmavadin by Helen F. Huntington on October 14, 1896, from Gainesville, Georgia:

“I am sure you will be glad to know that the peaceable fruits of Swami Vivekananda’s teachings have been all the while increasing; his influence is like sunshine—so quiet, so potent and far-reaching. It will always be a marvel to us that an Oriental could take such a firm hold on us Occidentals, trained as we have been by long habits of thought and education to opposing views. . . . Our interest is not of the noisy effervescent quality often incited by passing fads ; today it is stronger and deeper than ever before, and all of the Swami’s followers endeavour earnestly to spread the truth according to the various opportunities afforded to them—some quietly within domestic circles, others more prominently, as the case may be. And who is able to estimate the measure of mairs silent influence? . . .

“Even down here, a thousand miles or more from the scene of the .Swami’s work, I hear mention of his name. … I hope the time is not far distant when the Vedanta will be as well known here as in New York City. . . .

“It is impossible not to wish for Swami Vivekananda’s return to our midst, as he has endeared himself so deeply to all of us. As he said of his Guru, Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, ‘His presence was a blessing to everyone, saint and sinner,* so was his own life among us; for he influenced us to better living and brotherly kindness to all men. …”

The Swami had great confidence that the work in America would not suffer by his absence in England. His friends and disciples corresponded with him regularly, and he saw from the tone in which they addressed him that they were heart and soul in their enthusiasm for the movement.

During the month of October, 1896, the S warm’s mind turned more and more towards India. He had been thinking for some time of returning thither and had spoken accordingly to some of his more intimate friends, particularly to Mr. and Mrs. Sevier. But there was nothing definite, his remarks being only of a passing character. He had written also in a tentative way to Mrs. Bull concerning his intention. In reply he received a letter, asking if he would be willing to accept a large sum of money with which to further his work in India, especially with regard to the founding of a permanent home, as the headquarters of the brotherhood in Calcutta. The Swami replied a week before his sailing for India, to the effect that lie was profoundly grateful for the generous offer, but that he did not feel at the time that he should encumber himself with such responsibilities, as he wished to commence his work on a small scale in India, and that until he had found his bearings he could not accept her kindness. He promised, however, to write details from India.

It was after one of the class lectures towards the middle of November that the Swami called Mrs. Sevier aside and asked her quite suddenly to purchase four tickets immediately for the most convenient steamer from Naples, as he desired to shorten the sea-voyage by travelling to Naples via the Continent. It was a surprise to her, even though she knew that the Swami intended sailing. Both she and her husband, who were to accompany him to help in his work in India and lead the Vanaprastlia life, accelerated their preparations. It was decided that they would visit some of the important cities in Italy en route. That same day they secured berths on a new steamer of the North German Lloyd, which was to leave Naples for Ceylon on December 16. Subsequently however, they were transferred to the steamer “Prinz Regent LuitpokT, as the new steamer was not ready to sail on that day.

The Swami at once wrote to his Madras followers informing them of his coming, stating casually that he wanted to establish two centres, one in Calcutta, the other in Madras, and that Mr. and Mrs. Sevier intended founding a Himalayan Centre. He added, “We will begin work with these three centres ; and later on, we will get to Bombay and Allahabad. And from these points, if the Lord be pleased, we will invade not only India, but send bands of preachers to every country in the world.” His mind was full of plans, and he discussed them enthusiastically with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier. He seemed to be consumed with the desire to deliver his message to his motherland, and they in their turn anticipated great results, and made up their minds to renounce the world and dedicate themselves to the furtherance of his mission and to the practical realisation of those of his teachings which they had made their own. So they made quick preparations to settle their domestic affairs, and in a short time had disposed of their belongings consisting, among other things, of ornaments, pictures, books and furniture. Like true disciples they handed over to their Guru the whole of the proceeds of the sale. They took rooms elsewhere so as to be ready to start whensoever he wished. His devoted disciple, Mr. Goodwin, who had taken the vow of a Brahmachari and served the Swami as his secretary and personal attendant, was also to accompany him. Miss Muller with her lady-companion, Miss Bell, was preparing to follow him at a later date. In his plans of work in India the Swami, as a true patriot, did not forget to plan to help the women of his own land. Simultaneously with his idea of founding the three monastic centres for the training of young men as preachers, he had thought of starting an institution for the education of girls on national lines, producing not only ideal wives and mothers, but Brahmacharinis working for the improvement of their own sex. The Swami had inspired Miss Muller with the idea of being of service to the women of India, and she had gladly promised to support the proposed educational institution for Hindu girls. He had also in mind to bring Miss Margaret Noble to India in due time in order to put her in charge of his intended work for women. Thus from all points of view the prospects of launching a successful campaign in India seemed bright with a glorious promise, and the Swami was transported with joy at seeing that the dearest dream of his life—the rejuvenation of his motherland was going to be fulfilled at last.

When his English students came to know that the Swami was to leave in the middle of December, they were filled with sadness. It was decided to hold a farewell reception in his honour. The chief organiser of this final meeting was that indefatigable worker, Mr. E. T. Sturdy, than whom the Swami had few better friends. It was he and Mr. Goodwin who drew up the farewell address and sent invitations to all of the Swami’s friends and followers.

On December 13, the final Sunday before the Swami’s departure from London, the gathering at the Royal Society of Painters in Water-Colours, in Piccadilly, where the meeting was held, was enormous. Scores of people from all parts of the city, and some even from the distant suburbs poured into the hall, until there was hardly standing-room. Swami Abhedananda was there. He had now made a place for himself in the huge metropolis, and it was to him that the gathering unconsciously turned for solace on this day of loss. The Swami’s heart was full when he entered the hall amidst a stillness which spoke eloquently of the bond between him and his London followers. Mr. Eric Hammond eloquently describes this farewell gathering in the following words:

“It was Sunday in London, when shops were shut, business at a standstill, and the city streets silenced for a while from some at least of the rattle and the rumble of their heavier traflic. Londoners wore their Sunday clothing, their Sunday bearing and manner, and grey, subdued, and semi-silent folk wended their way to church and chapel. This afternoon the friends of Swamiji were to say ‘Good-bye’ to him whose coming had meant so much to them. In the hall of meeting, dedicated to the use of the artists, paintings hung upon the walls : palms, flowers and ferns decorated the platform from which Swamiji would utter his final speech in England’s great metropolis to the British people. All sorts and conditions of men were there, but all alike were filled by one desire: to see him, to hear him, even it may be, to touch his garment once again.

“On the platform musicians and singers at stated intervals ‘discoursed sweet sounds’. Speeches illustrating the esteem and affection which Swamiji had won, were made by men and by women. Salvoes of applause punctuated and followed them. Many were silent, tongue-tied and sad at heart. Tears were very near to some eyes. Grey and gloom without were intensified and deepened by grey and gloom within. One form, one figure, fought and triumphed over sorrow ; arrayed in garments, glistering as of amber, Swamiji passed among the people, like a living shaft of sunshine.

“ ‘Yes, Yes, he said, “we shall meet again ; we shall.* “

The Chairman of the meeting, Mr. E. T. Sturdy, presented an address to the Swami. The Swami was much moved and replied in terms of great endearment and glowing spiritual fervour. He pointed out the fact that history repeats itself and that Christianity had been rendered possible only by the Roman peace. “He perhaps meant,” comments Sister Nivedita, “that mere wouia yet DC seen a great army oi inaiaii preacnci.s m uic West, reaping the harvest he had sown so well, and making ready in their turn new harvests, for the distant reaping of the future.” And above all his public utterances at the time of his departure, ring out that triumphant statement which he made to Mr. Hammond, “I may even find it good to get out of this body, to throw it off like a disused garment. But I shall never cease preaching and helping mankind until all shall come to know the Highest Truth.” It is remarkable how, here and there, ever since his death, persons who had never seen him in his lifetime, are now feeling his spiritualising influence by communing with him through the great utterances he has left behind. True, he visited London again, but not in the capacity of a public teacher, as at that time other fields were calling him, in the United States of America. And there was yet work to be done in India.

The Swami’s last lecture in London on the “Advaita Vedanta” was the fitting culmination of the whole series, as it speaks the final word on the highest stage of Realisation. Reporting this lecture, but particularly making a survey of the influence created by the Swami, a distinguished correspondent to The Indian Mirror writes as follows on December 14, from London:

“The last lecture on the Advaila philosophy was given by the Swami Vivekananda to a crowded audience, which was anxious not to lose this last opportunity of hearing him for some time to come, on December 10, 1896. The regularity with which these thoughtful people have attended the Swami’s lectures in London is an indication of the serious attention which they have given to the whole of the present Vedanta exposition— an exposition which, in the hands of a personality which many have learned to very deeply respect and others to love, finds an application to every phase of Western life, as well as to that of Eastern life, where its first presentment was made. It is this liberal and wise interpretation, which has brought people of many varying shades of opinion, including several of the clergy of the Church of England, to group themselves together in an effort, to make the Swami’s teaching as widely known as possible. . . .

“A deep spiritual teaching is not likely to move rapidly at first, but steadily the Eastern thought is being more and more understood through an army of conscientious and industrious translators, and a teacher like the Swami Vivekananda comes and gives a living force to this lore, wrapped up in books, and also adjusts discrepancies. Yet, notwithstanding all that has been done by various scholars, the majority, probably, of those people who certainly may be called refined and educated, who have attended the Swami’s lectures, have now had their attention called for the first time to tlu: great treasures of Universal Thought and Wisdom, which India holds through the ages in trust, as it were, for the world. … If the Swami Vivekananda’s work may be called a missionary effort, it may be contrasted with most of the other missionary efforts of the day by its not having produced any bitterness, by its not having given rise to a single instance of ill-feeling or sectarianism. The reason of this is simple, and great is its strength. The Swami is not a sectarian ; lie is the promoter of Religion, not of one religion only. The exponents of single points in the vast field of religion can find nothing in him to fight.

“. . . Amongst those who attended the farewell reception were several old officers and civilians who had spent years of their life in India, and who cannot be presumed to be carried away by an enthusiasm for a particular exponent, a philosophy or a people of whom they know nothing.”

Many people after hearing the Swami in London declared that the manner and matter of his exposition of the Vedanta philosophy revealed to them an entirely new and encouraging view of life and that eternal substratum beneath it. Thus writes Miss M. a. Noble who afterwards became known as Sister Nivedita:

‘‘To not a few of us the words of Swami Vivekananda came as living water to men perishing of thirst. Many of us have been conscious for years past of that growing uncertainty and despair, with regard to Religion, which has beset the intellectual life of Europe for half a century. Relief in the dogmas of Christianity has become impossible to us, and we had no tool, such as we now hold, by which to cut away the doctrinal shell from the kernel of Reality, in our faith. To these, the Vedanta has given intellectual confirmation and philosophical expression of their own mistrusted intuitions. ‘The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light,’…

“. . . It was the Swami’s ‘I am God’ that came as something always known, only never said before. . . . Yet again, it was the Unity of Man, that was the touch needed to rationalise all previous experiences and give logical sanction to the thirst for absolute service never boldly avowed in the past. Some by one gate, and some by another, we have all entered into a great heritage and we know it. . . .”

Mr. Bepin Chandra Pal, a celebrated Indian publicist, speaking of the impression which Swami Vivekananda left in England, wrote from London to The Indian Mirror of February 15, 1898:

“Some people in India think that very little fruit has come of the lectures that Swami Vivekananda delivered in England, and that his friends and admirers exaggerate his work. But on coming here I see that he has exerted a marked influence everywhere. In many parts of England 1 have met with men who deeply regard and venerate Vivekananda. Though I do not belong to his sect, and though it is true that I have differences of opinion with him, I must say that Vivekananda has opened the eyes of a great many here and broadened their hearts. Owing to his teaching, most people here now believe firmly that wonderful spiritual truths lie hidden in the ancient Hindu scriptures. Not only has he brought about this feeling, but he has succeeded in establishing a golden relation between England and India. From what I quoted on ‘Vivekanandism’ from The Dead Pulpit by Mr. Haweis, you have clearly understood that, owing to the spread of Vivekananda’s doctrines, many hundreds of people have seceded from Christianity. And how deep and extensive his work has been in this country will readily appear from the following incident.

“Yesterday evening I was going to visit a friend in the southern part of London. I lost my way and was looking from the corner of a street thinking in which direction I should go, when a lady accompanied by a boy came to inc, with the intention, it seemed, of showing ine the way. . . . She said to me, ‘Sir, perhaps you are looking to find your way. May I help you?’ . . . She showed me my way and said. ‘From certain papers I learned that you were coming to London. At the very first sight of you I was telling my son, ‘Look, there is the Swami Vivekananda/ As I had to catch the train in a hurry I had no time to tell her that I was not Vivekananda, and was compelled to go off speedily. However, I was really surprised to see that the lady possessed such great veneration for Vivekananda, even before she knew him personally. I felt highly gratified at the agreeable incident, and thanked my Gerua turban which had given me so much honour. Besides the incident, I have seen here many educated English gentlemen who have come to revere India and who listen eagerly to any religious or spiritual truths, if they belong to India.”

During his stay in England, both before and after his visit to the Continent, the Swami himself was pleased with the results of his English labours. To one of his closest American friends he wrote (almost in a mood of prophecy concerning the future character and success of his mission) that he believed in the power of the English to assimilate great ideas ; that though the process of assimilation might be slow, it would be all the more sure and abiding. He often spoke of the hold the Vedanta would eventually have in England and believed that the time would come when distinguished ecclesiastics of the Church of England, imbued with the truth and the idealism of the Vedanta, would fonn a liberal community within the Anglican Church itself, supporting the universality of religion, both in vision and in practice.

Referring to his work in England, in his famous “Reply to the Address of Welcome in Calcutta”, the Swami says:

“My work in England has been more satisiactory lo me than my work in America. The bold, brave and steady Englishman, … if he has once an idea put into his brain, it never comes out, and the immense practicality and energy of the race makes it sprout up and immediately bear fruit. It is not so in any other country. That immense practicality, that immense vitality ot the race you do not sec anywhere else. There is less of imagination, but more of work, and who knows the well-spring, the mainspring of the English heart? How much imagination and feeling is there! They are a nation of heroes ; they are the true Kshatriyas ; their education is to hide their feelings and never to show them. From their childhood they have been educated up to that. . . . But with all this heroic superstructure, behind this covering of the fighter, there is a deep spring of feeling in the English heart. If you once know how to reach it, if you get there, if you have personal contact and mix with him, he will open his heart, he is your friend for ever, he is your servant. Therefore in my opinion, my work in England has been more satisfactory than anywhere else. …”

Before his departure for India, he wrote to a group of women disciples in America:

“The work in London has been a roaring success. The English are not so bright as the Americans, but once you touch their heart, it is yours for ever. Slowly have I won success, and is it not remarkable that by six months’ work altogether I should have a steady class of about one hundred and twenty persons apart from public lectures? Here everyone means work—the practical Englishman. Captain and Mrs. Sevier and Mr. Goodwin are going to India with me to work and spend their own money on it! There are scores here ready to do the same: men and women of position, ready to give up everything for the idea once they feel convinced! And last, though not least, the help in the shape of money to start my work’ in India has come and more will follow. My ideas about the English have been revolutionised. I now understand why the Lord has blessed them above all other races. They are steady, sincere to the backbone, with great depths of feeling—only with a crust of stoicism on the surface ; if that is broken, you have your man.”

Certainly there never acted a greater force to produce a sympathetic relation and co-operation between the Eastern and Western worlds than that wielded by the Swami and his Guru-bhais and his disciples.

On December 16, the Swami and Mr. and Mrs. Sevier left London for the Continent, Mr. Goodwin sailing from Southampton to meet them at Naples. Several intimate friends were at the London station to see them off. Mr. E. T. Sturdy voiced the feelings of many of his fellow-disciples when he penned the following lines in a private letter to one of them in America:

‘‘Swami Vivekananda left today …. He had a magnificent reception in the Galleries of the Royal Institute of Painters in Water-Colours. There were about five hundred people there, and a good many friends were away from London. His influence has sunk very deep into many hearts. We are going straight ahead with his work. His brother-Swami, a nice, attractive, ascetic-minded young man will help me in this. . . .

‘‘Your presumption is correct. I am heavy-hearted today at the loss of the noblest, friend and the purest teacher I have met in this incarnation. I must have stored some exceptional merit, in the past to receive such a blessing now. What I longed for all my life I have found in the Swami.”

Before closing the narrative of the Swami’s life in England, an incident which shows his courage in the face of danger, must be mentioned. Once as he was walking with Miss Muller and an English friend across some fields, a mad bull came tearing towards them. In the words of Sister Nivedita:

“The Englishman frankly ran, and reached the other side of the hill in safety. The woman ran as far as she could, and then sank to the ground, incapable of further effort. Seeing this, and unable to aid her, the Swami—thinking ‘So this is the end, after all’—took up his stand in front of her, with folded arms. He told afterwards how his mind was occupied with a mathematical calculation, as to how far the bull would be able to throw. But the animal suddenly stopped, a few paces off, and then, raising his head, retreated sullenly.

“A like courage—though he himself was far from thinking of these incidents—had shown itself, in his early youth, when he quietly stepped up to a runaway horse, and caught it. in the streets of Calcutta, thus saving the life of the woman, who occupied the carriage behind.”

TOWARDS INDIA

Now London was left behind. It was as if a great burden had. suddenly dropped from the Swami’s shoulders. He knew that the work would go on well under Swami Abhedananda. He had faith in the Lord, and he knew that he was but an instrument in the hands of the Most High.

The Swami rejoiced that he was free again. He said to Mr. and Mrs. Sevier, “Now I have but one thought, arid that is India. I am looking forward to India—to India!” On the eve of his departure an English friend asked, “Swami, how do-you like your motherland now after four years’ experience of the luxurious, glorious, powerful West?” His significant reply was, “India I loved before I came away. Now the very dust of India has become holy to me, the very air is now to me holy, it is now the holy land, the place of pilgrimage, the Tirthal ”

The party travelled directly to Milan, via Dover, Calais and Mont Cenis. The Swami who was in his happiest mood, made the long hours pass rapidly, and the journey, a delight. His mind was full of plans for his country, and of thoughts of the crowded hours of public life he would probably have on reaching there. Railroad travelling generally fatigued him, but on this occasion he seemed to enjoy it. He was like a boy, pleased with everything, and keenly observant of everything on the way. His companions entered heartily into his enthusiastic moods and plans of work, for they too were eagerly anticipating their Indian experience. They entertained high hopes of what they should do in India in helping the Swami to establish the proposed Himalayan Ashrama.

Through France, across the Alps, the train travelled on and at last they reached Milan. The Swami and his companions took up their quarters at a hotel close to the cathedral in order to visit frequently this celebrated edifice. The Swami was much’ impressed with Leonardo da Vinci’s “The Last Supper”..

Altogether the Swami enjoyed Milan ; this was his first experience in Italy. Leaving Milan, the party next visited the city of Pisa, famous for its Leaning Tower, its cathedral, the Campo Santo and its baptistry. Both in Milan and in Pisa the Swami admired the rich marble work, which in Pisa, in particular, is both of black and white. From Pisa they came to Florence. Its situation on the Arno, surrounded by picturesque hills makes of Florence a beautiful city, apart from the many objects and places of historic interest. The art galleries were visited, drives were taken in the parks, the history of Savonarola was narrated, and the three travellers entered into the spirit of this city.

In Florence the Swami had a pleasant experience. As he was driving in the Park he met Mr. and Mrs. Hale of Chicago, whom the reader will recall as the Swami’s intimate friends and hosts in America, whose residence he had made his home for some time. They were touring in Italy and knew nothing of his presence in the city. Thus it was for the three a most agreeable surprise. The Swami spent some hours in lively reminiscences and discussed with them the plans of his life and work in India.

As the train left Florence for Rome the Swami was full of emotion, for of all cities in Europe he was most desirous to see Rome. One week was spent in this imperial city. Each day new places of interest were visited. Prior to leaving London, Mrs. Sevier, through the kindness of Miss MacLeod, was given the address of a Miss Edwards, well known in English circles in Rome. With her was staying Miss Alberta Sturgis, a niece of Miss MacLeod and already known to the Swami. Both these ladies joined him and Mr. and Mrs. Sevier in several of their excursions in and about Rome. Miss Edwards became a warm admirer of the Swami and she was especially taken with the idealism of his philosophy and with his immense knowledge of Roman history and general human culture.

Everything that he saw in Rome immensely interested him. At St. Peter’s beneath its vast dome, before the shrines of the Apostles, he entered, in the silence of meditation, into that apostolic world in which the Apostle Paul preached and St.

Peter inspired the followers of the Christ. He was impressed with the Christian liturgy, seeing therein a kinship with the religious ceremonials of his own land. One of his lady companions asked, “Well, Swami, do you like these ceremonies?” He said, “If you love a Personal God, then give Him all your best—incense, flower, fruits and silk. There is nothing good enough to be offered to God.” But on Christmas Day when he attended the imposing ceremony of High Mass at St. Peter’s with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier, he became restless after a time and whispered to them, “Why all this pageantry and ostentatious show? Can it be possible that the Church that practises such display, pomp and gorgeous ceremonial is really the follower of the lowly Jesus who had not where to lay his head?” He could not help drawing a contrast between these splendours of the outward religious form at St. Peter’s and the great spirit of Sannyasa which the Christ taught!

In order to divert the Swami’s mind Mr. and Mrs. Sevier arranged for many pleasant drives on those beautiful old Roman highways away from even history and ruins. The climate and the spirit of the Eternal City are at their best in the winter season, especially at Christmas time. The Christ-spirit filled the air, and the Swami was caught up into it ; many times he spoke touchingly of the Christ-Child, contrasting the stories of His birth with that of the beautiful Indian Christ-Child, Shri Krishna.

The Swami made the round of all the places of interest in Rome, the palaces of the Caesars, the Forum, the Palatine Hill, the Temple Vesta, the public baths of the ancient Romans, the colosseum, the Capitolinc Hill, and the Church of S. Maria di Ara Coeli, St. Peter’s, and the Vatican, amongst other places of interest, of beauty and historic importance. At the Forum, once adorned with most imposing buildings and which is now covered with numerous relics of its former majesty, Swamiji closely examined Trajan’s Pillar, the most beautiful column in Rome. It is 117 ft. in height and the bas-reliefs with which it is ornamented, represent the exploits of Trajan, and contain over 2.000 human figures. The triumphal Arch of Titus, which was erected in 81 a.d. to commemorate the conquest of Jerusalem, is in a good state of preservation. Swamiji was very quiet at first; but the more one watched him, the more convinced one became of the interest that lay behind the outward calm. He, was thinking of the Rome of long ago that had mighty aspirations and embodied them in architectural forms, marvellous for their size and beauty. As he went from place to place, he began to voice his observations, mingling with them such a wealth of knowledge of history and architecture that a glamour was thrown around the ancient monuments. He traced the fortunes of the Imperial idea under the Roman Empire in the heyday of its power, when the world seemed to lie at its feet, conquered ; its rise and fall after the death of Augustus, when the people and their rulers were alike corrupt.

Being Christmas Eve, the streets outside the church of S. Maria di Ara Coeli had the appearance of a fair, with their lines of stalls, filled with sweets and toys, fruits and cakes, and cheap pictures of the Bambino. The Swami was amused and said, it reminded him of a mela (a religious fair) in India.

When the party left Rome, however, the Swami was not sad, for he realised that each day was bringing him nearer to the desired event—the departure for India. The next move was to Naples, where they were to embark. There were several days before the date of sailing giving the party an opportunity to see Naples and its famous environments. A day was spent in seeing Vesuvius, the party ascending to the crater by the funicular railway. While they were there, a mass of stones were thrown up into the air from the crater. Another day was devoted to visiting Pompeii, and the Swami was charmed with all he saw there. He was especially interested in a recently excavated house containing frescoes, fountains and statues, exactly as they were found. The Museum and the Aquarium also attracted the attention of the party. But what most concerned them was the approach of the date for sailing. The ship arrived at last from Southampton, bringing Mr. Goodwin as one of its passengers.

The steamer left Naples on December 30, 1896, and was to reach Colombo on January 15, 1897. They were to be many days on the ocean, but the voyage was not tedious. The Swami was throughout in excellent spirits and greatly benefited by the rest. In the Mediterranean, about midway between Naples and Port Said, the Swami had a phenomenal dream which made a profound impression upon his mind. One night, shortly after he had retired, he had a dream in which a bearded old man, venerable and Rishi-like in appearance, appeared before him and said,(’”Observe well this place that I show to you. You are now in the island of Crete. This is the land in which Christianity began.’* The Swami then heard him say, “I am one of the Thcrapeutae who used to live herejf And he added still another word which escaped the Swami’s memory, but which might be “Essene,” the name of a sect of which Jesus the Christ is said to have been a member. They were monastic in tendency, with a liberal religious outlook and a philosophy embracing the highest unity. The word Therapeuta unmistakably means Sons or disciples of the Therns, from Thera, an elder among the Buddhist monks, and Pulra, in Sanskrit, means a son. /The old man concluded, “The truths and ideals preached by us have been given out by the Christians as having been taught by Jesus ; but for the matter of that, there was no such personality of the name of Jesus ever born. Various evidences testifying to this fact will be brought to light by excavating hereof The Swami woke and at once rushed to the deck to ascertain their whereabouts just then. He met a ship’s officer, turning in from his watch. “What is the time?” he asked him. “Midnight,” he was told. “And where are we?” “Just fifty miles off Crete!” The Swami was startled at this singular coincidence, and it set him thinking about the historicity of Jesus the Christ, about which he had never entertained any doubts. Now he saw that the Acts of the Apostles might be an older record than the Gospels themselves, and that the views of the Therapeutae and the sect of Nazarene might have commingled, thus conferring upon Christianity both a philosophy and a personality. But these speculations could not be offered as conclusive evidence in support of this idea of the origin and history of Christianity.

He, however, had no doubt that in Alexandria a meeting had taken place of the Indian and Egyptian elements which contributed considerably towards the moulding of Christianity. It is said that the Swami wrote to a friend in England, who was an archaeologist, about his dream, and asked him to find out if there was any truth in it. It was some time after the Swami’s death that an item appeared in The Statesman of Calcutta stating that some Englishmen in the course of excavations in Crete came across records containing wonderful revelations of the origin of Christianity.

Whatever doubts the Swami may have had on the matter, the dream did not make him yield a whit in his love and adoration of the Son of Mary. There was the instance when a Western disciple requested him to give his blessing to a picture of the Sistine Madonna; he touched the feet of the Divine Child instead. There was also the instance when he turned upon another and exclaimed with fire in his eyes, “Madam, had I lived in Palestine in the days of Jesus of Nazareth I would have washed His feet, not with my tears but with my heart’s blood!’’

The Swami had an unpleasant experience with two of his fellow-passengers on his way to India. They were Christian Missionaries who insisted on talking with him on the contrast between Hinduism and Christianity. Their methods of argument were most offensive ; when they were beaten at every point, they lost their temper, became rude and virulent, and abused the Hindus and their religion. The Swami stood it as long as he could ; walking close to one of the speakers he suddenly seized him quietly but firmly by the collar and said, half-humorously and half-grimly, “If you abuse my religion again I’ll throw you overboard!’’ The frightened Missionary “shook in his boots” and said under his breath, “Let me go, sir, I’ll never do it again! ” From that time on he was most obsequious to the Swami on all occasions and endeavoured to remedy his misbehaviour by exceeding kindness.

Apropos of this incident, the Swami exclaimed in the course of a conversation with a disciple in Calcutta, “My dear Sinha, if anybody insulted your mother, what would you do?” “I would fall upon him, sir, and teach him a good lesson!” “Well said, but, now if you had the same positive feeling for your own religion, the true Mother of our country, you could never bear to see any Hindu brother converted into a Christian. Nevertheless, you see this occurring every day, yet you are quite indifferent! Where is your faith! Where is your patriotism! Every day Christian Missionaries abuse Hinduism to your faces, and yet how many are there amongst you who will stand up in its defence, whose blood boils with righteous indignation at the fact?”

As a contrast to this, was one that occurred at Aden. While visiting the places of interest at this port, he drove to the Tanks, three miles inland. Espying a man at a distance busily engaged in smoking his Hookah, he left his English disciples and walked rapidly towards him. He was highly delighted at seeing an Indian face again. Accosting him as “brother”, he entered into conversation with him. The man happened to be a Hindusthani betel-leaf seller. Swami’s friends were greatly amused when they heard the Swami say boyishly to the stranger, “Brother, do give me your pipe,” and to see him puffing away at it with great glee. Mr. Sevier then made merry with him by saying, “Now we see! It was this then that made you run away from us so abruptly! ” The Swami had not had a Hookah smoke for years. When the man learned who his guest was, he fell at the Swami’s feet. Speaking of this incident, the Swami’s companions say, “The shopkeeper could not have resisted him, for he had such an endearing way about him when asking for anything that he was simply irresistible. We shall never forget that ingenuous look on his face when he said with childlike sweetness, ’Brother, do give me your pipe.* *’

In the early morning of January 15, the coast of Ceylon could be seen in the distance. It was a beautiful sight in the roseate hues of the rising sun. Gradually, the harbour of Colombo with its majestic Cocoa Palms and its yellow-sanded beach came to view. This was India,1 and the Swami was beside himself with excitement. But he was totally unaware that he 

1 In those days Ceylon was a part of India. was going to meet representatives of all religious sects and social bodies who had come to welcome him home. One of his Guru-bhais1 had come to Ceylon to meet him ; others were on the way, and in Madras and in Calcutta there was great excitement over his coming arrival. He was to find that he had become the “man of the hour” in India, that his ovation was to be the first event in a grand march of triumph and national recognition from Colombo in the far south to Almora in the distant north.

1Swami Niranjanananda.

TRIUMPHAL MARCH THROUGH CEYLON AND SOUTHERN INDIA

The home-coming of Swami Vivekananda may be regarded as a great event in the history of modern India, for a united India rose to do him honour. Looming as he did upon the national horizon as the Arch-Apostle of the Hinduism of his age, and regarded as the Prophet of a re interpreted Hinduism—an “Aggressive Hinduism”, new in statement, and new in courageous consciousness—Swami Vivekananda was the Man of the Hour and the Harbinger of a new era. It is no wonder, therefore, that his coming was awaited eagerly by millions of his fellow-countrymen. For more than three years the Indian public-had been made aware that the Swami was doing the great work of presenting and interpreting Hinduism to the Western nations, with signal success. All India looked to him as to some mighty Acharya of old, bom again to revivify the fading glories of the Religion Eternal, and to carry her banner throughout the whole civilised world. New forces had been at play in India ever since his triumph at the Parliament of Religions. Through the study of the Swami’s lectures and utterances, the eyes of the educated Indians were opened to the hidden beauties and treasures of their religion, and they came more and more to see how Vedantism alone could claim the supreme position of being a Universal Religion. They had learnt that the Swami possessed tremendous powers and spiritual realisations, and that as a true patriot he had made an absorbing study of India’s complex problems. They were more than eager to see him and hear his message ; the Nation had already accepted him as its Guru.

When the news arrived that Swami Vivekananda had left Europe for India, committees were formed in the large cities for his reception. Two of his own Gurubhais (Niranjanananda and Shivananda) hastened to Ceylon and Madras to greet him on his arrival. Others, personal disciples of the Swami himself, made their way from Bengal and the Northern provinces to the city of Madras, and awaited his arrival there. Immediately, the journals throughout the country commenced a series of brilliant editorials, eulogistic of his personality and work. This still further inflamed the national expectancy.

The Swami himself was in entire ignorance of these great preparations in his honour. Quietly and serenely in meditation, or in converse upon the history of nations, or in rest, he spent the time aboard the steamer Prinz Regent Luitpold, his mind occupied with a hundred plans for the re-animation and reorganisation of the Indian Dharina. He was constantly drawing comparisons and reflecting on his experiences in Western lands. While in the West, his mind had always been occupied with the study of the history of the whole world and the relation of the world to Hindusthan, and of the problems and destiny of India herself. More and more the hope of awakening a National Consciousness stirred in him, and he was writing in his letters to his Gurubhais and Indian disciples the method and the means of bringing it about, trying to inspire them with his own fire and enthusiasm. Many months back in the city of Detroit, whilst he was talking with some disciples concerning the overwhelming difficulties he had met with in presenting Hinduism to a Christian public, and telling them how he had spent the best part of his vital forces in creating, among the Western nations, a reverence for what India had given as an intellectual and spiritual inheritance to the world, suddenly his whole body shook with emotion, and he cried out: ““India must listen to me! I shall shake India to her foundations! I shall send an electric thrill through her national veins! Wait! You shall see how India will receive me. It is India, my own India, that knows truly how to appreciate that which I have given so freely here, and with my life’s blood, as the spirit of Vedanta. India will receive me in triumph.”| He spoke with a prophetic fervour, and those who heard him realised that it was not for recognition of himself that he was praying, but for that of the gospel which, he felt, must become for all future times the gospel to all the nations of the world—India’s gospel, the gospel of the Vedas and Vedanta I

Let the records of eye-witnesses in the various Indian journals tell the rest of the story of his reception:

“The fifteenth of January will be a memorable day in the annals of the Hindu Community of Colombo, being the day on which the Swami Vivekananda, a teacher of wonderful abilities and attainments, a member of the most sacred Hindu spiritual Order, the SannyAsins of India, was welcomed by them. His visit is an epoch-making one. heralding the dawn of an unprecedented spiritual activity.

“As the day was closing and the night approached, when the auspicious and sacred hour of “Sandhya”, noted by the Hindu ShAstras as the best suited for devotion, came round as the harbinger of the coming great events of the day. the sage of noble figure, of sedate countenance with large, luminous eyes, arrived, dressed in the orange garb of a Sannyilsin, accompanied by the Swami Niranjanananda and others …. No words can describe the feelings of the vast masses and their expressions of love, when they saw the steam launch bearing the sage, steaming towards the jetty …. The din and clamour of shouts and hand-dapping drowned even the noise of the breaking waves. The Hon. Mr. P. Coomaraswamy stepped forward, followed by his brother, and received the Swami garlanding him with a beautiful jasmine wreath. Then came a rush …. No amount of physical force could hold back the great multitude …. At the entrance to Barnes. Street, a handsome triumphal arch formed of branches, leaves, and cocoanut flowers bore a motto of welcome to the .Swami. All too soon, the splendid pair of horses that awaited his landing in front of the G. (). H., carried away the Swami to the pandal in Barnes Street. Every available carriage was in use and hundreds of pedestrians wended their way to the triumphal panda! which was decorated with palms, evergreens, etc. There the Swami alighting from the carriage, walked in procession attended with due Hindu honours—the flag, the sacred umbrella, the spreading of the white cloth, etc. An Indian band played select airs. A host of persons joined the procession at Barnes Street, and then, together with the Swami, marched on to another beautiful and artistic pandal in front of the bungalow prepared for his temporary residence in Cinnamon Gardens. Both sides of the road leading from the first pandal to the second, a distance of a quarter of a mile, were lined with arches festooned with palm leaves. As soon as the Swami entered the second pandal, a beautiful artificial lotus flower unfolded its petals and out flew a bird. These charming decorations went unnoticed, for all eyes were on the Swami. In their struggle to see him, some of the decorations were destroyed. The sage and his disciples took their scats amidst a shower of flowers. After silence was restored, a musician played a charming air on his violin ; then the sacred Tamil hymns the ‘Thevaram’, two thousand years old,were sung; a Sanskrit hymn composed especially in the Swami’s honour was also intoned. The lion. Mr. P. Coomaraswamy stepping forward, bowed to the Swami in oriental fashion and then read an address of welcome on behalf of the Hindus.

“The Swami rose amidst deafening cheers and responded to the address in an eloquent and impressive style, peculiarly his own. The huge audience were carried away by his words, simple and plain though they were.

“In the course of his reply he pointed out that the demonstration had not been made in honour of a great politician, or a great soldier, or a millionaire. ‘The spirituality of the Hindus’, he said, ‘is revealed by the princely reception which they have given to a begging SannyAsin.’ He was not a general, not a prince, not a wealthy man, yet men great in the transitory possessions of the world, and much respected had come to honour him, a poor SannyAsin. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is one of the highest expressions of spirituality.’ He urged the necessity of making religion the backbone of the national life, if the nation was to live, and disclaimed any personal character in the welcome he had received, insisting that it was but the recognition of a principle.

“The Swami then entered the house. Here another garland was placed around his neck, and he was escorted to a seat. The people who had taken part in the formal proceedings of the meeting were standing outside and were unwilling to disperse. Finding that many were waiting to see him again, Swamiji came out and after the manner of SannyAsins he saluted and blessed them all.”

During the succeeding days, the bungalow occupied by the Swami (which was henceforth named “Vivekananda Lodge”) was thronged incessantly by visitors. It became, indeed, a place of pilgrimage, the honour and respect shown to the Swami being something of which no conception can be formed by those who are unaccustomed to the religious demonstrations of the East. Among the many visitors were men of all stations in life, from the first officials in Ceylon to the poorest of the poor. An interesting incident may here be mentioned. A poor woman, who was evidently in distress, came to see the Swami, bearing in her hand the customary offering of fruit. Her husband had left her in order that he might be undisturbed in his search for God. The woman wanted to know more about God, so that she could follow in his footsteps. The Swami advised her to read the Bhagavad-Gita and pointed out to her that the best way to make religion practical for one in her station, was the  proper fulfilment of household duties. Her reply was very significant. “I can read it, Swamiji,” she said, “but what good will that do me if I cannot understand it and feel it?”—a striking example, first, of the truth of the saying that religion does not rest in books, and secondly, of the amount of deep religious thought to be found even among the poor and apparently uneducated of the East.

In the evening of the 16th the Swami gave a stirring address in the Floral Hall to an audience which overflowed the building. The subject of this first public lecture in the East, after his arrival from his triumphs in the West, was, “India, the Holy Land”.

The following day, Sunday, was again spent in receiving visitors until the evening, when the Swami paid a visit to the temple of Shiva. The crowd which accompanied him was immense, and a most interesting characteristic of the evening was the repeated stopping of the carriage in order that the Swami might receive gifts of fruit, that garlands of flowers might be placed round his neck and rose-water sprinkled over him. It is a custom in Southern India and Ceylon, when an especially honoured guest pays a visit to a house, to burn lights and display fruit on the threshold, and this was done at almost every Hindu dwelling which the procession passed, particularly in Checku Street, the heart of the Tamil quarter of Colombo. At the Temple the Swami was received with shouts of “Jaya Mahadeva! ” (Victory unto the Great God!). After worshipping the Lord and holding a short converse with the priests and others who had assembled, the Swami returned to his bungalow where he found a number of Brahmins with whom he conversed until half past two the following morning.

On Monday, the Swami paid a visit to Mr. Ghelliah, whose house was decorated for this purpose in a most artistic fashion. Hearing that he was to arrive, thousands of spectators were waiting for him, and when his carriage drew nearer and nearer, the enthusiastic cheering increased more and more, and garlands after garlands and loose flowers were showered upon him. He was seated in a place especially prepared for him, and the sacred waters of the Ganga were sprinkled over him. The Swami then distributed sacred ashes which all received with sacramental joy. A picture of his own Master, Bhagavan Shri Ramakrishna, having attracted the Swami’s attention, he at once got up and with great reverence made obeisance thereto. He then partook of light refreshments and expressed his joy on seeing that the house contained pictures of saints. This interesting meeting was brought to a close by the singing of several sacred songs.

In the evening, the Swami delivered a second lecture to another large audience on the Vedanta philosophy, at the Public Hall of Colombo. The audience listened to a most powerful and lucid exposition of the Advaita philosophy. The central theme of his address was the advocacy of a universal religion, based on the Vedas. In the course of his lecture the Swami’s attention was drawn to the European dress in which many Indians had appeared. He was evidently annoyed, and feeling it his duty, he cautioned them against such slavish imitation. He said that European dress did not suit Orientals. It was not this dress or, that which he recommended in particular, but it was the manner in which he found his countrymen foolishly aping foreign ways that called forth his criticism.

In the morning of the 19th the Swami left Colombo for Kandy by train in a special saloon. His original intention was to take a steamer direct from Colombo to Madras, but on his arrival in Ceylon so many telegrams poured in beseeching a visit to Ceylonese and Southern Indian towns, if only in passing, that he was induced to alter his plans and make the journey overland. At the railway station at Kandy a large crowd awaited him with an Indian band and the temple insignia, to convey him in procession to a bungalow in which he was to take rest. When the cheering which greeted his arrival had subsided, an address of welcome was read.

The reply was again brief, and after a few hours’ rest, during which the interesting points of the beautiful town were visited, the journey was resumed and Metale reached the same evening. On Wednesday morning the Swami began a coach-ride of two hundred miles—through a country, the beauty of whose vegetation has placed it among the brightest spots in the world—to Jaffna. A few miles beyond Dambool, a mishap occurred. One of the front wheels of the coach was smashed in descending a hill, necessitating a stoppage of three hours on the roadside. Fortunately, the wheel did not come entirely off, or the carriage would have been overturned. After a long wait, only one bullock-cart was secured from a distant village, and in it was put Mrs. Sevier with all the luggage. Then progress was made but slowly, as the Swami and his companions had to walk several miles before they got other bullock-carts. They passed the night in the carts and reached Anuradhapuram passing through Kanaliari, and Tinpani, about eight hours late.

Under the shade of the sacred Bo-tree the Swami gave a short address, to a crowd of two to three thousand people, interpreters translating, as he proceeded, into Tamil and Sinhalese. The subject was “Worship”, and he exhorted his hearers to give practical effect to the teachings of the Vedas, rather than pay attention to mere empty worship. When the Swami had proceeded so far, a huge crowd of fanatic Buddhists, Bhikslnis and householders—men, women and children—gathered round him and created such a horrid noise by beating drums, gongs, cans, etc., in order to stop the lecture, that he was obliged to conclude abruptly. It would have ended in a serious riot between the Hindus and the Buddhists, had it not been for the persuasive appeal from the Swami to the Hindus urging them to practise restraint and patience under such provocation. This led the Swami to speak of the universality of religion, ancf, in this stronghold of Buddhism, he urged that the God worshipped either as Shiva, as Vishnu, as Buddha, or under any other name was one and the same, thus showing the necessity not only for tolerance, but also for sympathy between followers of different creeds.

From Anuradhapuram to Jaffna is a distance of one hundred and twenty miles, and as the road and the horses were equally bad, the journey was troublesome, saved from tediousness only by the exceeding beauty of the surroundings. Indeed, on two successive nights, sleep was lost. On the way, however, a welcome break was the reception of the Swami with all honour at Vavoniya, and the presentation of an address.

After the Swami had replied briefly, the journey was resumed through the beautiful Ceylon jungles to Jaffna. There was a reception of an informal character early the following morning at Elephant Pass where a bridge connects Ceylon with the Island of Jaffna. Twelve miles from the town of Jaffna, the Swami was met by many of the leading Hindu citizens, and a procession of carriages accompanied him for the remainder of the distance. Every street in the town, nay, every house was decorated in his honour. The scene, in. the evening, when the Swami was driven in a torch-light procession to a large pandal erected at the Hindu College, was most impressive. All along the route there was great enthusiasm, and there must have been at least ten to fifteen thousand people accompanying him.

A local newspaper describing the public reception given to the Swami and his visit to Jaffna, says:

“It was arranged by the Reception Committee that the Swami was to be received privately at Uppar on Sunday morning by a deputation of seven members, and that the public demonstration in the town in bis honour should be reserved for the evening. But it was found that one hundred persons, the elite of the Hindu society, were collected at Uppar anxiously awaiting bis arrival on Sunday morning. Till 9 a.m., the coach with the distinguished monk and party accompanying him did not make its appearance. It was then resolved to go ahead another five miles and wait at. Chava-kachari. No sooner had that place been reached than the Swami and his party arrived by the mail coach. A procession was then formed to drive to the town, with the Swami, his Gurubhai, Swami Niranjanananda, and Mr. Naglingam in the first carriage—a landau drawn by a pair—and the rest following in twenty carriages. It was 11-30 a.m., when the procession reached the town by the Central Road. In spite of the short time at the disposal of the Committee, grand preparations had been made to accord the Swami a fitting reception at the Hindu College in the evening. A magnificent pandal had been put up in front of the institution and most tastefully decora led. The whole way from the town to the College—a distance of about two miles—was festooned and illuminated, more especially that part of the route from the Grand Bazaar. Hundreds of banana palms were planted on both sides of the road, and bunting and flags adorned the whole route. The scene was exceedingly picturesque, and great enthusiasm prevailed among the people. Thousands from all parts of the Island came to the city to get a glimpse of the renowned monk, and gathered all along the route to give him welcome. From 6 p.m. to 12 p.m., the Jaffna Kanges-antura Road, as far as the Hindu College, was impassable for carts and carriages. The torch light procession, which started at 8-30 p.m., attended with Indian music, was unprecedentedly imposing. It is estimated that more than fifteen thousand persons, all on foot, took part, in it. The whole distance of two miles was so densely crowded that it looked like a sea of heads, yet perfect order prevailed from start to finish. At the gate of almost every house on both sides of the road throughout the entire distance, were placed Niraikudam and lamps, the inhabitants expressing in this manner the highest, honours that could be offered, according to the Hindu idea, to a great Sannyasin. The Swami alighted from the carriage and worshipped at the Sivan and kathiresan temples where lie was garlanded by the temple priests. Along the way also, many garlands were offered him by the local residents, so that when he reached the College at 10 p.m., he was most beautiful to look upon. The panda! was crammed even hours before the Swami arrived. Hundreds were outside seeking admission. People *of all denominations had come. Buddhists, Christians, Hindus and Mohammedans, At the entrance to the pandal the Swami was received by Mr. S. Chcllapa Pillai, retired Chief Justice of Travancorc, who conducted him to a raised dais and garlanded him.

“An address of welcome was then read, to which the Sw’ami replied in a most eloquent way for about an hour. In the evening of the day following at 7 p.m., he spoke at the Hindu College, on Vedantism, for one hour and forty minutes. There wen; present about four thousand persons composed of the elite of Jaffna society, and one and all w’ere electrified with the Swami’s stirring words. Following the lecture, Mr. Sevier at the request, of the audience addressed the assembly explaining why he had accepted Hinduism and wTiy be had come to India with the Swami.”

With his address at the Hindu College at Jaffna, the Swami’s journey across Ceylon came to a close. So great was the impression created even by this brief visit that urgent requests were made to him at every place to send teachers of the Order to preach the gospel of Shri Ramakrishna in the Island. Further telegrams and letters of invitation from the representative bodies of the various towns in the interior poured in, praying the Swami to pay them a short visit, but he had to refuse them for want of time. Besides, he was tired. “He would have been killed with kindness,” as one of his companions remarked, “if he had stayed longer in Ceylon.”

At the Swami’s request arrangements were made to convey him and his party immediately to his native land. The voyage of about fifty miles, with favourable weather was delightful. On Tuesday, January 26, at about 3 p.rn., the steamer carrying the Swami and his European disciples arrived in Parnban Road. The Swami having been previously invited by the Raja of Ram-nad to Raineswaram, was about to leave for Rameswaram when he heard that the Raja had come in person to meet him at Pamban. The Swami was transferred from the ship to the State-boat: of the Raja ; as soon as he entered it, the Raja and all his stall prostrated themselves before him. The meeting between the Prince and the monk was a most touching one ; the Swami feelingly said that as the Raja had been one of the first to conceive the idea of his going to the West and had encouraged and helped him to do so, it was apt that he should meet the Raja first on landing on Indian soil. When the State-boat reached the shore, he was given a tremendous ovation by the citizens of Pamban. Here, under a decorated pandal, an address of welcome was read and presented to him. The Raja added to this a brief personal welcome which was remarkable for its depth of feeling, and then the Swami gave a short reply pointing out that the backbone of the Indian national life was neither politics nor military power, neither commercial supremacy nor mechanical genius, but religion and religion alone, and it was this that India alone could give to the world. He concluded thanking the citizens of Pamban for their kind and cordial reception, and expressing his gratitude to the Raja of Ramnad for all that he had done for him.

The meeting over, the Swami was invited to enter the State-carriage of the Raja of Ramnad and was driven towards the Raj bungalow, the Raja himself walking with his court officials. At the command of the Raja the horses were unharnessed, and the people and the Raja himself drew the State-carriage through the town. For three days the Swami remained at Pamban to the delight of the citizens. The day following his arrival he paid a visit to the great temple of Rameswaram. This visit deeply touched the Swami as he recalled his journey thither five years ago, when as an unknown wandering Sannyasin he had come there footsore and weary, thus bringing his pilgrimage throughout India to a close. How different were the circumstances under which he now visited it! When nearing the temple, the State-carriage in which the Swami was driven, was met by a procession which included elephants, camels, horses, the temple insignia, Indian music, and all the evidence of the respect that the Hindu pays to a Mahatma. The temple jewels were displayed to the Swami and his disciples, and after they had been conducted through the building and shown its many architectural wonders—particularly the galleries supported by a thousand pillars—the Swami was requested to address the people who had assembled. And standing there on the sacred grounds of that famous temple of Shiva, he delivered a stirring address on the true significance of a Tirtlia, and of worship, charging the eager listeners, and through them all his co religionists to worship Shiva by seeing Him not in images alone, hut in the poor, in the weak and in the diseased. Mr. Naglingam acted as Tamil interpreter. The Raja of Ramnad was beside himself with the great spirit of the occasion, and the very next day fed and clothed thousands of poor people. And in commemoration of this great occasion, the Raja erected a monument of victory, forty feet in height, bearing the following inscription:

“Satyameva Jayate.

“The monument erected by Bhaskara Scthupathi, the Raja of Ramnad, marks the sacred spot, where His Holiness Swami Vivekananda’s blessed feet first trod on Indian soil, together with the Swami’s English disciples, on His Holiness’s return from the Western Hemisphere, where glorious and unprecedented success attended His Holiness’s philanthropic labours io spread the religion of the Vedanta.

“January 27, 1897.“

Then came the short trip from Pamban across to the mainland, and after breakfasting in one of the rest-houses provided by the charity of the Raja for the benefit of wayfarers, Tiruppul-lani was reached, where an informal reception was given to the Swami. It was wellnigh evening when Ramnad came in sight. The journey from the sea-coast proper was made by bullock-cart, but when nearing Ramnad, the Swami and party entered the State-boat which conveyed them across one of the large tanks that abound in Southern India. Thus the imposing reception took place on the banks of a lake, heightening the scenic effect of the great meeting. The Raja, it goes without saying, took the leading part in the ceremony of welcome, and introduced the Swaiui to the leading citizens of Ramnad.

The firing of cannon announced to the waiting thousands the arrival of the Swami ; and at the time of landing numerous rockets shot far into the air, and they continued to be fired at repeated intervals until the procession reached its goal. Marks of rejoicing and festivity were everywhere in evidence. The Swami was driven in the State-carriage, accompanied by the Raja’s own bodyguard under the command of his brother, while the Raja himself directed the course of the procession afoot. Numerous torches flared on either side of the road, and both Indian and European music added life to the already lively proceedings, the latter playing—“See the Conquering Hero Comes,” both on the landing of the Swami and on his approach to the city proper. When half the distance had been traversed, the Swami at the request of the Raja descended from the State-carriage and took his seat in the handsome State-palanquin. Attended with all this pomp, he reached the Shankara Villa.

After a short rest, he was led into the large audience hall where thousands had gathered knowing that he would speak to them in reply to their address of welcome. As he entered the hall, shouts of triumph and joy resounded, renewing the great enthusiasm which had been manifested all along the Swami’s line of march by jubilant crowds. The Raja opened the meeting with a speech in which he highly eulogised the Swami, and then called upon his brother, Raja Dinakara Sethupathi, to read an address of welcome, which was then presented to the Swami enclosed in a massive casket of solid gold of the most exquisite design and workmanship.

The Swami’s reply was characterised as was usual with most of his Indian lectures, by the richness and beauty of his thought and by his fiery eloquence ; these in conjunction with the power of his personality roused the people to intense enthusiasm for their religion and the ideal of their national life and their duty to the Motherland.

The Raja closed the proceedings with the praiseworthy suggestion that the visit of the Swami to Raninad should be commemorated by a public subscription to the Madras Famine Relief Fund.

During his stay at Raninad the Swami received numerous visitors in addition to lecturing in the Christian Missionary School kindly lent for the purpose, and attending a Durbar at the palace held in his honour. On the latter occasion the great hall was brilliantly lighted, the Raja’s own band playing. Here he received further addresses in Tamil and Sanskrit to which he replied, graciously referring to the large-hearteclness of the Raja and to his religious temperament. He conferred on the Raja the title of “Rajarshi”, signifying thereby that the Raja was both a ruler and a sage in one. At the earnest solicitation of the Raja the Swami then gave a short address into a phonograph on the need of Shakti-worship in India. Following on the visit to the palace on the Sunday evening, a fresh start was made at midnight for the journey northwards to Madras.

Parainakudi was the first stopping-place after leaving Ramanad, and there was a demonstration on a large scale, many thousands following him in procession. An address of welcome was given to which the Swami made a touching reply.

At Manamadura, where the next halt was made, the Swami was taken in a long procession to a huge pandal under which, amidst deafening shouts of enthusiasm, an address of welcome, both of the citizens of the neighbouring town of Sivaganga and those of Manamadura, was tendered him. He replied in a few well-chosen words.

Again the journey was resumed—it was one continuous tour of triumph—until Madura, the ancient city famous for its learning and magnificent temples and memories of old kingdoms, was reached. At this place the Swami was housed in the beautiful bungalow of the Raja of Ramnad. In the afternoon an address of welcome in a velvet casket was presented to him to which he replied with great fire and feeling.

Three weeks of continuous travelling, speaking and ovations had tired him physically, but the vigour of his mind and spirit was indefatigable. Though, in some places he visited, he was not fit physically to deliver public speeches and receive visitors at all times of the day, he waived aside all consideration of his body and rose equal to the demands of the occasion. His heart was gladdened to see such tremendous religious zeal and enthusiasm among his people, which led him to hope for great things to come in the future.

While in Madura, the Swami paid a visit to the Minakshi temple, where he was received with marked respect. He spoke most cordially with the temple priests and referred enthusiastically to the marvellous architecture and art the temple embodied. In the evening he entrained for Kumbakonain. All along the way, at each station at which the train stopped, crowds of people were in waiting to welcome him with immense enthusiasm. Even the smallest villages sent their quota of representatives. At every station garlands of flowers and short addresses of welcome were presented, and the people pressed in and about the train to have a glimpse of their hero ; it was as though they had come to see a royal pageant. The Swami in a few words replied most suitably to their addresses of welcome and regretted that time did not permit him to accede to their request to stay for a day at every stop. At Trichinopoly, in particular, at four o’clock in the morning, there were over a thousand people on the platform, who presented him with an address. Addresses were also presented from the Council of the National High School, Trichinopoly, and also from the student population of that renowned city. The replies to these addresses were necessarily brief. At Tanjore somewhat later, another large demonstration was made.

It might be imagined, from the previous demonstrations of honour and praise which he had received from all quarters, that his reception at Kumbakonam would be equally spontaneous and imposing. So it was. The citizens knew no bounds to their great enthusiasm and rejoicings. The Swami took rest here for three days as he knew heavy work was awaiting him in Madras. Two addresses of welcome were given to him, embodying the sentiments respectively of the Hindu community at large and of the Hindu students of the town. In reply the Swami delivered one of the most stirring addresses of his whole tour, entitled “The Mission of the Vedanta*’.

At all the towns on his way to Madras, the Swami met with the same enthusiastic greetings. At Mayavaram the citizens gathered in huge numbers idling the whole of the station platform, and a committee headed by Mr. D. Natesa Aiyer presented him with an address. In reply the Swami thanked the assembly, saying with humility that he had only fulfilled the mission which the Lord had commissioned him to do. He was grateful, he said, that his small labours should meet with such heartfelt response from the nation. The train steamed off amidst wild shouts of “Jav Swami Vivekananda Maharajjiki Jay!”

A remarkable incident which speaks volumes for the love and adoration in which the Swami was held by the millions of Southern India took place at a small railway station, some few miles from the Madras city proper. Hundreds of people had assembled there to get a glimpse of the “Great Teacher” and pay their homage to him. T he train was a “through” train and was not to stop at that station. The crowds importuned the station-master to flag the train to make it stop if only for a few minutes, but to no avail. At last, seeing the train coming in the distance, hundreds of people fell flat upon the railway line, determined by this extreme course to stop the train! The station-master w’as panic-stricken. The guard of the incoming train realised the situation and at once ordered the train to be stopped. The people crowded round the Swann’s carriage and sent forth shouts of triumph in his honour. The Swami, visibly-stirred by this display of emotion, appeared for a few moments before them, extending his hands lovingly in blessing, and briefly thanked them witli all his heart.

Great enthusiasm prevailed for weeks in the city of Madras and its environs over the home-coming of Swami Vivekananda.

Extensive preparations were being made for the Swami’s reception. The streets and thoroughfares of the great city were profusely decorated ; seventeen triumphal arches were erected ; blazing mottoes of welcome such as, “Long Live the Venerable Vivekananda! ” “Hail, Servant of God!” “Hail, Servant of all Great Sages of the Past!” “Hearty Greetings of Awakened India!” “Greetings to the Swami Vivekananda!” “Hail, Harbinger of Peace!” “Hail, Shri Ramakrishna’s Worthy Son!” “Welcome, Prince of men!” were everywhere in evidence. Amongst Sanskrit Shlokas was: “Ekam Sad Vipra Bahudha Vadanti!” For days previous, committees of reception and arrangement had been at work and Madras papers were filled with editorials concerning the Swami and the grand preparations that were being made for giving him a fitting reception. On the day of his arrival, representatives of leading papers like The Hindu, The Madras Mail, etc., met him at Chingleput and travelled with him to Madras for interviews. The Madras Times wrote as follows:

“For the past few weeks, the Hindu public of Madras have been most anxiously expecting the arrival of Swami Vivekananda, the great Hindu Monk of world-wide fame. At the present moment his name is on everybody’s lips. In the schools, in the colleges, in the High Court, on the Marina, and in the streets and bazaars of Madras, hundreds of eager persons may be seen asking everybody, ‘When will the Swami Vivekananda come?’ Large numbers of students from the moffussil. who have come up for the university examinations, are staying here awaiting the Swami, and increasing their hostelry bills, despite the urgent call of their parents to return home immediately for the holidays. From the nature of the receptions received elsewhere in this Presidency, from the preparations being made here, from the triumphal arches, erected at Castle Kernan, where the ‘Prophet’ is to be lodged at the cost of the Hindu public, and from the interest taken in the movement by the leading Hindu gentlemen of this city, like the Hon. Mr. Justice Subrahmanya Iyer, there is no doubt that the Swami will have a grand reception. It was Madras that first recognised the superior merits of the Swami and equipped him for his journey to Chicago. Madras will now have again the honour of welcoming the undoubtedly great man who has done so much to raise the prestige of his motherland. Four years ago when the Swami came here, he was practically an obscure individual. In an unknown bungalow at St. Thome he spent sonic two months holding comersations on religious topics and teaching and instructing all coiners who cared to listen to him. Even then a lew educated young men with a ‘keener eye* predicted that there was something in the man, ‘a power’ that would lilt him above all others, and pre-eminently enable him to be the leader of men. These young men who were then despised as ‘misguided enthusiasts’, ‘dreamy revivalists’, have now the supreme satisfaction of seeing ’their Swami’, as they loved to call him. return to them with a great. European and American fame. The Mission of the Swami is essentially, spiritual …. Whatever differences of opinion followers of other creeds may have with him . . . few will venture to deny that the Swami has done yeoman service to his country in opening the eyes of the Western world to ‘the good in the Hindu’. lie will always he remembered as the first Hindu Samnasin who dared to cross the sea to carry to the West the message of what he believes in as a religious peace . . . .”

From the early hours of the morning the city wore a festive air and thousands were making their way to the railway station, many of them carrying flags and dowers, symbols of their joy and triumph. When the train, conveying the distinguished monk, steamed into the Madras Station, the Swami was received with thundering shouts of applause and with an enthusiasm unprecedented in the annals of Madras. After the preliminary reception, an elaborate procession commenced, the horses of the Swami’s carriage were unharnessed and the citizens of Madras took their places. Tens of thousands of people crowded the streets. From windows and verandahs people sought to gain a glimpse of the great procession which wended its way by a circuitous route to the palatial residence of Mr. Billigiri Iyengar, known as the “Castle Kernan”. All along the way the Swami, now sitting, now standing, constantly bowed in recognition of the plaudits of the crowd. The cynosure of all eyes, he appeared in the midst of that procession like a conqueror returning from the battlefield, crowned with glory—not a conqueror of earthly dominions, but a conqueror of hearts, both Eastern and Western.

A leading paper describing the Swami’s entrance into Madras and the public reception accorded to him writes:

“Due to previous information widely disseminated that Swami Vivcka-nanda would arrive at Madras this morning by the South Indian Railway, the Hindus of Madras, of all ages and of all ranks, including young children in primary schools, grown-up students in colleges, merchants, pleaders and judges, people of all shades and varieties, and in sonic instances, even women, turned up to welcome the Swami on his return horn his successful mission in the West. ‘Hie railway station at Egmorc. being the first place of landing in Madras, had been well fitted up by the Reception Committee who had organised the splendid reception in his honour. Admission to the platform was regulated bv tickets rendered necessary hv the limited space in the interior of the station ; the whole platform was lull. In this gathering all the familiar figures in Madras public life could he seen. The train steamed in at about 7-30 a.m., and as soon as it came to a standstill in front of the south platform, the crowds cheered lustily and clapped their hands, while a native band struck up a lively air. The members of the Reception Committee received the Swami on alighting. The Swami was accompanied by his Gurubhais, the Swamis Nirunjanananda and Shivananda, and by his European disciple Mr. J. J. Goodwin. On being conducted to the dais, he was met by Captain and Mrs. J. H. Sevier, who had arrived on the previous day with Mr. and Mrs. T. G. Harrison, Buddhists from Colombo and admirers of the Swami. The procession then wended its way along the platform, towards the entrance, amidst deafening cheers and clapping of hands, the hand leading. At the portico, introductions were made. The Swami was garlanded as the band struck up a beautiful tune. After conversing with those present for a few minutes, he entered a carriage and pair that was in waiting, accompanied by the Hon. Mr. Justice Subrahmanva Tver and his Guruhliais, ;and ;drove off to Castle Kernan, the residence of Mr. Billigiri Iyengar,    Attorney, where he will ;reside during his ;stay in Madras. The Egmorc Station was decorated with flags, palm leaves and foliage plants, and ;red ;baize was spread on the platform. ;The ‘Way Out’ gate had a triumphal arch with the words, ‘Welcome to the Swami Vivekananda*. Passing out of the compound, the crowds surged still denser and denser, ;and ;at every move, the ;carriage had to ;halt repeatedly to enable the people to make offerings to the Swami. In most instances, the offerings were in the Hindu style, the presentation of fruits and cocoanuts, something in the nature of an offering to a god in a temple. There was a perpetual shower of flowers at every point on the route and under the ‘Welcome’ arches which spanned the whole route of the procession from the station to the Ice-House, along the Napier Park, via Chintadripet, thence turning on the Mount Road opposite the Government House, wending thence along the Wallaja Road, the Chepauk and finally across the Pycrofts’ Road to the South Beach. During the progress of the procession along the route described, the receptions accorded to the Swami at the several places of halt were no less than royal ovations. The decorations and ihe inscriptions on the arches were expressive of the profoundest respect and esteem and the universal rejoicing of the local Hindu Community and also of their appreciation of his services to Hinduism. The Swami halted opposite the City Stables in an open pandal and there received addresses with the usual formalities of garlanding.

‘‘Speaking of the intense enthusiasm that characterised the reception, one must not omit, to notice a humble contribution from a venerable*looking old lady, who pushed her way to the Swami’s carriage through the dense crowds, in order to see him. that she might thereby be enabled, according to her belief, to wash ofT her sins as she regarded him as an Incarnation of Sambandha Moorthy. We make special mention of this to show with what feeling of piety and devotion Ilis Holiness was received this morning, and indeed in Ghintadripet. and elsewhere, camphor offerings were made to him. and at the place where lie is encamped, the ladies of the household received him with Arati, or the ceremony of waving lights, incense and flowers as before an image of God. The procession had necessarily to be slow, very slow indeed, on account of the halts made to receive the offerings, and so the Swami did not arrive at Castle Kernan until half past nine, his carriage being in the meanwhile dragged by the students who unharnessed the horses at the turn to the Beach and pulled it with great enthusiasm. Arrived at the Castle Kernan, Mr. Krishnamachariar, n.A., b.l., High Court Vakil, read a Sanskrit address on behalf of the Madras Vidvanmanoranjini Sabhfi. This was followed by a Canarese address. At the close of this ceremony, Mr. Justice Subrahmanya Iyer asked the gathering to disperse in order to let the Swami rest after the fatigue of his journey, which was done. The Swami was installed in one of the magnificent chambers in the upper storey of the Castle Kernan.

“Never since its earliest days has Madras witnessed such an enthusiastic reception accorded to anyone, European or Indian. Of all the official receptions that, were ever held in Madras, none could equal the one given to Swami Vivekananda. Such an ovation has not been witnessed in Madras within the memory of the oldest man, and we dare say that the scenes of today will remain for ever in the memory of the present generation.”

A programme was at once drawn by some prominent citizens of Madras to regulate the presentation of addresses by different organisations as well as the addresses to be delivered by the Swami. It was settled that his first public appearance and address was to be in reply to the address on behalf of the people of Madras, after which there were to be four more devoted to a comprehensive and detailed exposition of his message to the world and to India and to the means and method for creating a national spiritual life in India in accordance with its altered conditions, ine following suojects were cnosen as topics ior the Swami’s lecture:

(1) My plan of campaign

(2) The Sages of India

(3) Vedanta in its relation to practical life

(4) The future of India.

The Swami approved of the programme. He also consented to deliver an address to the Triplicane Literary Society on ‘‘Some aspects of my work in India”. In addition, he gave two morning sittings at the Castle to meet people who desired to ask him questions.

The Swami’s stay in Madras was a nine days’ festival, a veritable “Navaratri”. Altogether twenty-four addresses were presented to Swami Vivekananda, in English, Sanskrit, Tamil and Telugu. He also presided at the Annual Meeting of the Chennapuri Annadana Samajam, an institution of a charitable nature, and gave a brief address in which he pointed out the superiority of the Hindu idea of charity to that of the legalised methods of other nations. He also paid a visit to the rooms of the Madras Social Reform Association.

But to return to a detailed account of his activities during his nine days’ stay at Madras. The following account is taken from an extremely interesting article, published in the Vedanta Kesarij by Prof. Sundararama Iyer, m.a. He was, it may be remembered, the host of the Swami at Trivandrum when the unknown monk was there during his pilgrimages.

Shortly after his arrival in response to the demands of some of his followers in Madras, the Swami sang one of Jayadeva’s songs in a marvellous voice and in a Raga (tune) different from any ever heard in that part of the country. “The impression received,” writes the professor, “is one never to be effaced, and the Swami was in one of the lighter aspects of his complex nature.” From the first day to the last of his visit he was besieged at all hours by visitors of all classes and of both sexes* Many women of respectable families came to the Castle Keman Si as if they were visiting a temple. Their devotional feeling reached its climax when they gained admission and prostrated themselves before the Swami as if he were an Avatar or Acharya revisiting the scene of his labours. There were crowds constantly waiting in front of the Castle at all hours of the day and even after dark. Writes Prof. Sundararama Iyer:

“It had gone forth that lie was an Avatara of Sambandha Swami (Shiva) and the idea was taken up everywhere with absolute truthfulness by the common people. Whenever a glimpse of him was caught, as he passed to and fro in the Castle grounds or as he was getting into his coach on his way to one of the meetings, they prostrated vn masse before him. The scene on such occasions was as impressive as it was unusual, emphasising as it did that in the heart of the nation was a deep reverence lor renunciation of the world’s vanities and its unsubstantial fleeting attachments ; that it. still regarded it to be the sole means to the attainment of the lotus feet of the Supreme and the resulting liberation from the miseries in the material universe.’

When the appointed day, the third after his arrival, came for the Swami to receive the Madras address, he left the Castle Kernan at about 4 p.m. It was a day of universal and high expectations. The scene in front of the Victoria Hall and along the roads and by-ways leading to it defied description. The Swami’s carriage could scarcely pass, so dense was the crowd. As the Swami and his party alighted from the carriage, there were loud cries of “open air meeting” from the vast throng assembled in front of the Hall. It was arranged that the address to the Swami should be presented inside the Hall. It was filled to its utmost capacity. Sir V. Bhashyam Ayyangar was already in the Chair. The Swami took his seat on the dais by his side, and Mr. M. O. Parthasarathi Ayyangar read the address. Meanwhile loud and continuous shouts of “open air meeting” from outside interrupted the proceedings within. The Swami’s heart was touched ; he felt that he could not disappoint the countless young men, eager and enthusiastic, assembled out of doors. So he went forth to meet and mingle with the throng which broke into thundering applause when he appeared. But the noise was so deafening that the Swami could not make himself heard. He was compelled to speak from the top of a Madras Coach— “in the Gita fashion”, as he called it, to the mirth of all who heard him, meaning that there was some sort of distant analogy between himself speaking from a coach and imparting his counsel and inspiration to his people at the dawn of a new epoch and Shri Krishna delivering his message of Yoga to a world which had allowed it to sink into oblivion. He spoke briefly, clearly enunciating the central truths of Hinduism, how through renunciation, love and fearlessness souls were to be helped to cross the ocean of Samsara into the joy of Truth and the realisation of the Self ,* how India had, through love for God or Self, expanded the limited, concentrated and intense love of a family into the love of country and humanity. He concluded by thanking all, urging them to “keep up” their enthusiasm and to give him all the help he “required” from them “to do great things for India” and to carry out all his plans for the revival of the race. This was followed by his four other public lectures delivered on February 9, 11, 13 and 14, two in the Victoria Hall, one in the Pacheyappa’s and the last in Harms-ton’s circus pavilion. His ideas aroused the latent energies of the Indian nation ; he reminded the Indians of their greatness and their weaknesses as well, now pointing to their glorious heritage and the still more glorious destiny they were to fulfil in the future, now admonishing them like a Guru, pointing out the evils of their mistaken course and the dangers ahead on the path to their salvation as a nation. He made them self-conscious, proud of their past and hopeful of their future and at the same time ashamed of their weakness and irnpotency and bade them gird up their loins.

A few interesting events happened during the Swami’s stay in Madras. On February 8, a deputation came to him—all Shaivites, from Tiruppattur to ask him questions about the fundamental points of the Advaita philosophy. The first question was—“How does the Unmanifested become the manifest !”

The Swami replied that the question was illogical for “how” and “why” can be asked only of the relative and not of the Absolute and that he could answer questions only when they were put in a logical form. In the resulting deadlock the questioners felt that they had met their match. Then the Swami said, “The best way to serve and to seek God is to serve the needy, to feed the hungry, to console the stricken, to help the fallen and friendless, to attend and serve those who are ill and require service.” The deputation listened to the Swann’s passionate plea for service to humanity ; and as they took their departure, their countenances showed that their hearts had been touched and that a new light had been thrown on life and work.

On the morning of February 12, there came a young European lady of high intelligence, who put to him various questions on the subject of Vedanta. The Swami’s resources of knowledge and argument were displayed in full to the delight and enlightenment of the lady and the entire audience. She expressed her gratitude to the Swami, and told him that she would be leaving for London in a few days to resume her social work among the dwellers in its slums and hoped that it would be her great privilege to meet him again. As she left the room, the Swami rose from his seat and advanced a few steps to see that way was made for her to leave the meeting, and remained standing till she bowed and retired. In the afternoon she returned with her father who was a Christian Missionary in Madras, and sought and obtained for him an interview which lasted nearly an hour. In answer to Prof. Sundararama Iyer’s question as to how he found the strength for such incessant activity, the Swami said, “Spiritual work never tires one in India.”

Another interesting incident occurred the same evening. A Vaishnava Pandit discussed in Sanskrit with the Swami some difficult points in the Vedanta. The Swami patiently listened to the Pandit, then turned to the audience and said in English that he did not care to waste his time in fruitless wranglings on doctrinal details of no practical value. The Pandit then asked the Swami to tell him in precise language whether he was an Advaitin or Dvaitin. The Swami replied in English, “Tell the Pandit that so long as I have this body I am a Dualist, but not afterwards. This incarnation of mine is to help to put an end to useless and mischievous quarrels and puzzles which only distract the mind, and make men weary of life and even turn them into sceptics and atheists.” The Pandit then said in Tamil, “The Swami’s statement is really an avowal that he is an Advaitin.” The Swami rejoined, “Let it be so,” and the matter was dropped.

Meanwhile he was receiving letters from his Western disciples and from the Vedanta Societies in America and England, informing him of the progress of the work and congratulating him on his successful propaganda there. Among other valuable papers which he received was the following address, the signatories to which include some of the most distinguished minds in the history of American thought:

“To Swami Vivekananda, India

“Dear Friend and Brother,

“As members of the Cambridge Conferences, devoted to comparative study in Ethics, Philosophy and Religion, it gives us great pleasure to recognise the value of your able expositions of the Philosophy and Religion of Vedanta in America and the interest created thereby among thinking people. We believe such expositions as have been given by yourself and your co-labourer, the Swami Saradananda, have more than mere speculative interest and utility, that they are of great ethical value in cementing the ties of friendship and brotherhood between distant peoples, and in helping us to realise that solidarity of human relationships, and interests which has been affirmed by ail the great religions of the world.

“We earnestly hope that your work in India may be blessed in further promoting this noble end, and that you may return to us again with assurances of fraternal regard from our distant brothers of the great Aryan Family, and the ripe wisdom that comes from reflection and added experience and further contact with the life and thought of your people.

“In view of the large opportunity for effective work presented in these Conferences, we should be glad to know something of your own plans for the coming year, and whether we may anticipate your presence with us again as a teacher. It is our hope that you will be able to return to us, in which event we can assure you the cordial greetings of old friends and the certainty of continued and increasing interest in )our work.

“We remain,

“Cordially and Fraternally yours,

Lewis G. Janes, D.D., Director,

C. C. Everett, D.D.,

William James,

John II. Wright,

Josiaii Royce,

J. F.. Lough,

A. O. Lovejoy.

Rachel Kent Taylor,

Sara C. Bull.

John P. Fox.”

Dr. Janes, as the reader knows, was the President of the Brooklyn Ethical Association ; Professor C. C. Everett was the Dean of the Harvard Divinity School ; Professor William James of the Harvard University was one of the leading psychologists and philosophers in the Western Hemisphere ; Professor Wright was the Harvard Professor of Greek, who, it will be remembered, aided the Swami to secure credentials for the Parliament of Religions; Professor Royce was the Harvard Professor of Philosophy and an extremely able metaphysician, who admittedly owed much to Swami Vivekananda ; Mrs. Bull was the promoter of the Cambridge Conferences and one of the foremost women in America and Norway ; Mr. Fox was the acting honorary secretary of the Cambridge Conferences. Still another letter from the Brooklyn Ethical Association, equally eulogistic and much to the same effect, was received by the Swami at this time, addressed, “to our Indian Brethren of the Great Aryan Family”, and bearing the signatures of E. Sidney Sampson, President, and Lewis G. Janes, Ex-President, of the Association. Copies of this address were printed and widely circulated in Madras to an eager and grateful public.

Still another address of greeting was sent to Swami Vivekananda, signed by forty-two of his especial friends at Detroit. It reads:

“From this far-away city, in a land, old yet young, ruled by a people who are a part of the ancient Aryan race, the mother of nations, we send to you in your native country—India, the conservator of the wisdom of the ages—-our warmest love and sincerest appreciation of the message you brought to 11s. We, Western Aryans, have been so long separated from our Eastern brothers that we had almost forgotten our identity of origin, until you came and with beautiful presence and matchless eloquence rekindled within our hearts the knowledge that wc of America and you of India are one.

“May God be with you! May blessings attend you! May All-Love and All-Wisdom guide you!

“ ‘Om Tat Sat Om!’ ”

Among other papers received by the Swami, mention may be made of one, the reading of which delighted him, not so much for its touching tribute to himself, but for the fact that his Gurubhai had been warmly received by his friends and disciples in New York and had made a promising beginning. On the occasion of presenting an address of welcome to Swami Saradananda at the New Century Hall, 509 Fifth Avenue, New York, on January 16, by the students of the Vedanta Society of the City, Dr. E. G. Day was reported to have spoken as follows:

“Among the audience I recognise the faces of many who gathered to hear the sublime teachings of the Vedanta from the lips of the gifted and wcll-bcloved Master, Vivekananda, and of many who mourned when their friend and teacher left, and who earnestly long for his return. I wish to assure you that his mantle has fallen on worthy shoulders in the person of the Swami Saradananda who will now teach the Vedanta studies among us. I arn sure that I voice your sentiments when I say that we are ready to extend to him the love and loyalty we had for his predecessor. Let us extend to the new Swami a hearty welcome.”

On Monday, February 15, the Swami left for Calcutta by steamer. To the request that he should remain in Madras and open a centre there he pointed out that it was impossible for him to do so just then, but he promised to send one of his Gurubhais as his representative. Several of his admirersi followers and personal friends went to the wharf to see him off. Mr. Tilak had invited the Swami to Poona, and he first thought of going there. But he was in need of rest and pined for the quiet of the Himalayas. At the beach, several merchants of the a tormal address or thanks tor his services to the holy mother-land. The Hon. Mr. Subba Rao of Rajahmundry presented the address to the Swami on their behalf. The Swami bowed in acknowledgment and spoke kindly with them. Several boarded the steamer, and remained with the Swami until the boat sailed. Professor Sundararama Iyer begged of the Swami the favour of a moment’s interview apart to ask, “Swami, tell me if, indeed, you have done lasting good by your mission to such materialistic people as the American and others in the West.” He replied, “Not much. I hope that here and there I have sown a seed which in time may grow and benefit some at least.” The second query was, “Shall we see you again, and will you continue your Mission work in South India?” He replied, “Have no doubt about that. I shall take some rest in the Himalayan region, and then burst on the country everywhere like an avalanche.”

BACK TO BENGAL

The whole of the Bengal Presidency was alive with enthusiasm over the news that Swami Vivekananda had landed in India. Calcutta in particular was following with intense interest the movements and utterances of the Swami’s triumphal progress from Colombo to Madras. A Reception Committee was formed, with the Maharaja Bahadur of Darbhanga as President, to receive him officially and to arrange for a public reception.

The Swami was looking forward eagerly to his return to the city of his birth. The boat trip from Madras was a boon to his tired nerves, for the continuous ovations, public speaking, and talking to visitors, had worn him out. It was to escape all this that he decided to travel by boat instead of by train. Before leaving Madras some of his admirers ordered a huge number of cocoanuts to be brought on board, the milk of which the Swami was to drink by the doctor’s orders. Mrs. Sevier on seeing the quantity of cocoanuts asked, “Swami, is this a freight boat, that they are loading so many cocoanuts aboard?” He, very much amused, replied, “Why, no, not at all!    They are my

cocoanuts! A doctor has advised me to drink cocoanut-milk instead of water.” He shared the fruit with the Captain and his fellow-passengers. When the steamer sailed up the Hooghly, the Swami pointed out to his disciples all the places of interest that he knew so well, as well as the places associated with his early youth and manhood.

The Reception Committee at Calcutta had been busy ever since the Swami had left Madras, and when the steamer docked at Kidderpore, there was a special train waiting to take him the following morning to the Sealdah Station. At about half past seven o’clock in the morning the Swami and his party boarded the train. Thousands of people were gathered at the Sealdah Station, Calcutta, from early morning to greet him. They were reading as they waited, copies of the two farewell addresses of his students in New York and London which were being distributed. When the whistle of the train was heard, a shout of joy rang out. When the train stopped, the Swami stood up and bowed to the multitude with joined palms. When he stepped from the carriage, those nearest him made a rush to take the dust of his feet; those further off shouted his name and that of his Master triumphantly. So dense were the crowds that it was with exceeding difficulty that the Reception Committee headed by Mr. Narendra Nath Sen, the editor of The Indian Mirror, could make way for the Swami to the carriage that was waiting for him. Many Sannyasins, in their Gerua robes, were in the crowd, some of them being his own Gurubhais. The Swami was literally loaded with garlands of sweet flowers and was visibly moved by the tremendous demonstration.

Hardly had the Swami with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier seated himself in the landau, when the horses were unharnessed and a band of Bengali boys, mostly students, rfislied forward to draw the carriage. A procession was then formed, headed by a band playing lively music, which moved in the direction of the Ripon College, its first stopping-place. A Sankirtana party followed at some distance in the rear singing religious songs with visible emotion, which lent added interest to the great occasion. Along the line of march the streets were decorated with flags and banners, flowers and evergreens. In Circular Road a triumphal arch of welcome was erected, bearing the inscription, “Hail, Swamiji!” In Harrison Road there was another with the salutation, “Jay Ramakrishna! ” And another still was constructed in front of the Ripon College bearing the word, “Welcome!“ At the College itself there was a wild demonstration. Thousands had flocked thither to get a close view of the great Sannyasin. Still thousands more pressed towards the College in the line of the procession, until a panic seemed imminent.

At the College an informal reception was held, the Swami replying briefly, as the Reception Committee had decided to postpone the public reception until a week later, so as to afford the citizens of Calcutta a more favourable opportunity of hearing him. After a short time, therefore, the Swami and his party left for Baglibazar, where they had been invited to a banquet by Rai Pasliupati Nath Bose at his palatial residence. At four o’clock in the afternoon, the Swami and his European disciples were driven to the beautiful river-side residence of Gopal Lai Seal, in Cossipore, known as Seal’s Garden, which was offered to the Swami and his friends for their temporary residence.

Continually, day after day, and every hour of the day, hundreds of people came to pay their personal respects to the Swami and to hear his exposition of Vedanta. Telegrams of congratulation and of welcome, and also invitations from various towns came pouring in. In the day-time he made his headquarters generally at the Cossipore mansion ; at night lie stayed at the Math which was then at Alambazar. The Swami had no rest. The task of receiving and entertaining countless visitors, and the constant discussion on strenuous intellectual subjects, which such visits entailed, were a great strain.

February 28, 1897, was the day, arid the place chosen was the palatial residence of Raja Sir Radhakanta Deb Bahadur at Sobhabazar for the presentation of the City’s address of welcome. When the Swami arrived, he was cordially welcomed by the most distinguished audience that had ever assembled in that historic capital of the British Empire in India. At least five thousand people had gathered in the inner quadrangle and verandahs all around, and the cheering which was evoked by his appearance was deafening. The meeting was presided over by Raja Binov Krishna Deb Bahadur, who introduced the Swami as the foremost national figure in the life of India. There were present Rajas and Maharajas, Sannyasins, a group of distinguished Europeans, many well-known Pandits, illustrious citizens, and hundreds of college students. The address of welcome was presented in a silver casket to the Swami, who replied in a speech that has become famous as a masterpiece of oratory, and of fervent patriotism. This brought him recognition, in an especial sense, as the Prophet of Modern India. He had defined in a new form the whole scope of Indian Consciousness and had given birth to entirely new ideas of national and public life. In this address one finds his own Master, Shri Ramakrishna

Paramahamsa, proclaimed by him as God Incarnate, and held by him before the nation as a great spiritual ideal manifested for the good of all races and of all religions. The spirit of this lecture and of the Swami himself, made the profoundest impression, which has widened and deepened with the years, producing a New Order in modem India.

Shortly after the Swami’s arrival in Calcutta the birthday anniversary of Shri Ramakrishna came off. It was celebrated, as was usual at the time, at Dakshineswar, but the fact that Swami Vivekananda himself was to take part in the festival, drew large crowds to the temple of the Mother.

Accompanied by some of his Gurubhais, the Swami arrived at the temple-garden at about nine o’clock in the morning. He was barefooted, dressed in a long Alkhalla and wore a Gerua turban. The great multitude catching sight of him cried out the name of Ramakrishna and Vivekananda repeatedly. Vast crowds eager to see him and to take the dust of his feet thronged about him and followed him wherever he went. After a while he repaired to the temple of the Mother, followed by great numbers ; there before the image he prostrated himself bowing his head to the ground in adoration, in company with the swarming crowd. The Swami next visited the shrine of Shri Radhakantaji, and then entered Shri Ramakrishna’s room, which was full of devotees. Scores of Sankirtana parties were everywhere singing and dancing in the name of the Lord. Triumphant shouts of “Jay Ramakrishna” echoed and re-echoed from one comer of the vast temple-garden to the other. As though on a pilgrimage, the Swami visited with great reverence the various places of religious interest; accompanied by his European disciples, who had come just then, he walked to the memorable Panchavati Tree, the meditation-seat and place of Illumination of the Paramahamsa Deva, where he read a hymn to Shri Ramakrishna in Sanskrit, which was given to him by the composer.

Around the Panchavati, there were scores of devotees of the Great Master, but among them all, the Swami singled out Girish Chandra Ghosh. The two exchanged greetings, and the

Swami comparing the present occasion with the former days when only a few attracted by the unique life of the Divine Master celebrated the birthday festival, said, “Well, what a difference between those days and these!” “I know that, but still there arises the desire to see more,” replied the great dramatist, quoting from one of the Epics, where the Bhaktas longed to live on, even though miserable and afflicted, so that they might see more and more of the glories of the Lila or Divine Career of the Lord Incarnate. The Swami then turned his steps in the direction of the Bilva tree, another scene of the austerities of Shri Ramakrishna.

The great masses that had congregated at the Dakshineswar ternple-garden called upon him repeatedly to tell them of his Master. He made an effort to speak, but his voice was drowned in the tumult. Seeing that it was impossible to make himself heard, he gave up the attempt and mingled with the crowd for some time, exchanging friendly greetings and occasionally introducing his English disciples to distinguished Bhaktas of his Master. Towards three o’clock in the afternoon, when the crowd had thinned, he returned to the Alambazar Math, in company with a Gurubhai and a disciple. On the way he talked to the latter of the necessity of religious festivals and other demonstrations of religious zeal and emotion for the general masses who cannot comprehend abstract ideas of Truth.

A few days after his reply to the address of welcome by the Calcutta public, the Swami again lectured before it on AiThe Vedanta in All Its Phases”. This address was another of those masterpieces of philosophical dissertation which mark his progress from Colombo to Almora. Taking his stand upon the unassailable ground that the Vedas and the Upanishads are the basis of all systems of philosophy or religion in India, he touched upon the Sankhya, Yoga and Ramanuja systems, showing them as classifications of the VedSnta, and maintained that before Hindus were to be known even as Hindus, they must first of all be “Vedantins”. He pointed out that the Vedanta is the climax of systems of philosophy and religion, and stressed the necessity of renunciation. And in this lecture, as in others, he put before his hearers the glory of the Sanatana Dharma and the greatness of the Upanishads and Vedanta. With them as foundation he felt that Hinduism could be restored to a vigorous life. He denounced hypocrisy and fanaticism ; he contrasted the degenerating influence of the Vamachara practices of the Tantras with the strengthening and ennobling power of the Upanishadic teachings. The Vedanta, he felt, should be the background of everything in India. 7’his spirit permeated his entire discourse.

This address created a profound impression in the metropolis. The citizens came to understand now more fully that the Swami stood for the true spirit and the essentials of the Vedic Dharma. The beautiful eclecticism of the Vedanta as presented by the Swami appealed most to all.

During the Swam is stay in Calcutta, though he made his headquarters at the Seal’s mansion and the Alambazar Math, yet he was constantly visiting one devotee of Shri Ramakrishna or another. He was entertained frequently by one or other of the princes of the metropolis, but he was also the guest of the most humble.

Many distinguished people, persons of various professions and callings as well as hundreds of enthusiastic youths and college students used to come daily to the Seal’s Garden. Among the former some came to him out of curiosity, some thirsting for knowledge, and others to test his learning and powers. The questioners were invariably charmed with his knowledge and interpretation of the Shastras, and even great masters of philosophy and university professors were amazed at his genius.

But his heart was with the educated, unmarried youths with whom he was never tired of speaking. He was consumed with the desire for infusing his own spirit into them, and to train some of the more energetic and religious among them, so that they might devote their lives to the salvation of their own souls and to the good of the world. He did not speak to them always on spiritual topics, nor was he too generous with his praise. He deplored their physical weakness, denounced early marriage, admonished them for their lack of faith in themselves and in their national culture and ideals ; but all this was done with such unmistakable love and kindness, that they became his staunchest disciples and followers. A few excerpts from the Swami’s general conversations and descriptions of the private meetings in the Seal’s Garden and elsewhere, as recorded by them, will be interesting and instructive to the readers, as showing the depth and the breadth of his vision and his teachings.

Some followers of the Krishna cult in Bengal, led by the erroneous impression that the Swami in his zeal for Vedantism did not present before the Western world that other aspect of Hinduism known as Vaishnavism, had tried during his absence in the West to make the most of this matter in order to belittle his mission in the eyes of his countrymen. But the Swami’s own words gave the lie to these libels. In the course of an eloquent talk on the Vaishnava faith with one of its followers he said, “Babaji, once I gave a lecture in America on Shri Krishna. It made such an impression on a young and beautiful woman, heiress to immense wealth, that she renounced everything and retired to a solitary island, where she passed her days absorbed in meditation on Shri Krishna.” Speaking of renunciation he said further, “Slow but sure degradation creeps into those sects which do not practise and preach the spirit of renunciation.”

One day the Swami was talking with a young man who lived at the Bengal Theosophical Society. The latter said, “Swamiji, I frequent various sects but cannot decide what is Truth.” The Swami replied in a most affectionate way, “My boy, you need have no fear ; I was also once in the same state. Tell me what people of different faiths have instructed you and how you have followed their injunctions.” The youth then said that a learned preacher of the Theosophical Society had clearly convinced him of the truth and utility of image-worship, and that he had accordingly done Puja and Japa for a long time with great devotion, but could not find peace. Then some one had advised him to try to make the mind void in times of meditation. He had struggled hard to do so, but still the mind did not become calm and controlled. “Sir,” said the young man, “still I sit in meditation, shutting the door of my room, and closing my eyes as long as I can ; but I cannot find peace of mind. Can you show me the way?” “My boy,” spoke the Swami in a voice full of loving sympathy, “if you take my word, you will have first of all to open the door of your room and look around instead of closing your eyes. There are hundreds of poor and helpless people in the neighbourhood of your house ; them you have to serve to the best of your ability. One who is ill and has no one to look after him, for him you will have to get medicine and diet and nurse him ; one who has nothing to eat, you will have to feed him ; one who is ignorant, you will have to teach him, well-educated as you are. My advice to you is, if you want peace of mind, you have to serve others in this way as best as you can.” But the questioner began to argue, “But suppose, sir, if in going to nurse a patient I myself fall ill through loss of sleep and irregular meals as well as by other irregularities—.” The Swami replied rather sharply, “Why boy, it is quite evident from your words and manners, to every one present here, that people like you, who are so mindful of their own bodily comforts, will never go out of your way or risk your health to nurse the sick!”

Another day, in course of a conversation, a distinguished disciple of Shri Ramakrishna, a professor of long standing, asked him, “You talk of service, charity and doing good to the world ; those are, after all, in the domain of Maya. When, according to Vedanta, the goal of man is the attainment of Mukti by breaking all the bondage of Maya, what is the use of preaching things which keep the mind on mundane matters?” Without a moment’s hesitation the Swami replied, “Is not the idea of Mukti also in the domain of Maya? Does not the Vedanta teach that the Atman is ever free? What is striving for Mukti to the Atman, then?”

With the nation at his feet, with name and fame and wealth heaped upon him, Swami Vivekananda was the same simple Sannyasin as of old, untouched by pride and conceit. One day, the nephew of Shri Ramakrishna, Shri Ramlal Chatto-padliyaya, or Ramlal Dada as he is endearingly called by the offered Ramlal Dada his chair. Ramlal Dada out of humility and disconcerted at taking the Swami’s chair in the presence of visitors, asked the Swami to resume his seat, but unsuccessfully. After much persuasion the Swami made him sit in the chair and strolled about the room saying to himself, “Guruvat Guru-putresliu”—“One should treat the relations of the Guru with the same honour as one would treat the Guru himself.” This incident, though a simple one, was a lesson in Gurubhakti to those who witnessed it.

In these days the Swami’s moods varied according to the different temperaments of his visitors. On one occasion some one knowing his regard for The Imitation of Christ and its saintly author, referred to the wonderful humility which pervaded the teachings of that classical work, and observed that spiritual progress was impossible unless one thought of oneself as the lowest of the low*. The Swami exclaimed, “Why should wc think ourselves as low and reproach ourselves? Where is darkness for us! We are verily the sons of Light! We live and move and have our being in the Light which lightetli the whole universe!”

Once while discoursing on the conquest of lust, the Swami mentioned a personal instance which gives a hint as to what lengths he himself had gone rather than submit to the lower nature. “In the days of my youth,” he said, “once I was so much troubled with a fit of passion that I became terribly vexed with myself, and in my rage sat upon a pot of burning charcoal that was near by. It took many days to heal the wound.”

An enquirer one day asked the Swami about the difference between an Incarnation and a liberated soul. Without giving a direct answer to the question, he said, “My conclusion is that liberation is the highest stage. When I used to roam about all over India in my Sadhana stage, I passed days and days in solitary caves in meditation, and many a time decided to starve myself to death, because I could not attain Mukti. Now I have no desire for Mukti. I do not care for it so long as one single individual in the universe remains without attaining it!”

These words of unbounded love for all beings remind one of a similar utterance of the Lord Buddha. But it must be remembered that both these great teachers of humanity spoke thus only after they had attained to illumination. Only Prophets and Saviours of mankind can challenge Mukti in that manner. Therein is the difference between an ordinary liberated soul and an Incarnation, or one who having Mukti in the palm of his hand, as it were, refuses to be merged in the Absolute or the essence of God Himself, but lives in the world for the good of others, to raise them to the highest slate.

It was at the home of Shri Priya Nath Mukherjee that he said to the editor of The Indian Mirror that his preaching of Vedanta in the West had convinced him that all methods of raising the motherland such as politics, were but secondary to the necessity of clinging to her scriptures and obeying the injunctions thereof. After the distinguished visitor had left, the Swami had the following conversation with a preacher of the Cow Protection Society, which brings out in bold relief his love for his fellow-beings and his patriotism.

Swamiji:    “What is the aim of your Association?”

Preacher:    “We save our Go-matas (cows regarded as Mother) from the hands of the butchers by buying them ; we have established refuges where old, diseased and disabled cows are taken care of.”

Swamiji:    “That is an excellent idea. What is the source of your income?”

Preacher:    “The work is managed by gifts given by high- minded persons like you.”

Swamiji:    “What funds have you?”

Preacher:    “The merchants are the chief supporters and patrons of the Society. They have helped it with large contributions of money.”

Swamiji:    “A terrible famine has been raging in Central India. The Government of India have published a report computing the death-rate from starvation at 900,000. Is your Society doing anything to save these starving people from the jaws of death?”

Preacher:    “We do not help in famines and the like. Our object is to save the Go-matas only.”

Swamiji:    “When lakhs and lakhs of your own country men and co-religionists are succumbing to this dreadful famine, do you not think it your duty to help these miserable creatures, by giving them a morsel of food?”

Preacher:    “No. This famine has broken out as a result of their Karma, their sins. It is a case of ‘like Karma like fruit’.”

Hearing these words the .Swarm’s face became flushed and his eyes glared at the speaker. But suppressing his emotions he exclaimed:    “Sir, I have no sympathy with such organisations which do not feel for man, which seeing before their eyes thousands of their famished brothers perishing from starvation do not care to save them by offering even a morsel of food but spend millions for the protection of birds and beasts. I do not believe any public good, worth the name, can come out of such Societies. ‘Men are dying through their Karma, so let them die?’ Are you not ashamed to make such a cruel statement? If you make the plea of the doctrine of Karma in that way, then there is no need of any endeavour to do good to others. It may be equally applied to your work: The cows fall into the hands of the butchers and are slaughtered by them as a result of their own Karma in this or in some past lives ; and so there is no need of our doing anything for them!”

The preacher feeling thoroughly discomfited said, “Of course what you say is true, but our Shastras say, ‘The cow is our mother’.”

Amused at these words the Swami said, “Yes, that cow is our mother, I can very well understand. Otherwise who else will give birth to such talented sons.”

Perhaps this biting joke was lost upon this preacher, for he without making any remark now asked the Swami for a contribution. He replied, “I am a Sannyasin, as you see. If people give me money, I shall first of all spend it in the service of man. I shall try to save men first by making provision to give them food, education and religion. If after spending money on these things there be any left, I shall give something out of it to your Society/’

After the preacher had left, the Swami said to those about him, “ What nonsense that man talked! ‘What is the use of helping those who are dying due to their own Karma!’ That is the reason why the country has gone to rack and ruin. Did you see to what a monstrous extreme your doctrine of Karma is dragged! Alas, are they men who have no heart to feel for man!” As he spoke, his whole body shook with grief and disgust.

But one might go on endlessly quoting from these conversations and dialogues. They are an inspiration for Young India, surcharged as they are with unbounded love of country, fellow-men and religion. “Strength, strength is the one word.” he said in one of his Madras lectures, “that every line of the Upanishads declares unto me.” To make every Indian conscious of the infinite power of the Spirit lying potential in every man, he regarded as the foremost mission of his life, for out of it came everything that made religion dynamic, life-giving, and manmaking. Talking one day to a disciple he said:

“It is rebellion against. Nature, struggle for self-preservation, that differentiates Spirit, from Matter. Where there is life, there is struggle, there is the manifestation of the Spirit. Read the history of all nations and you will find that that is the Law. It is only this nation which drifts with Nature, and you are more dead than alive. Yon are in a hypnotised state. For the last thousand years or more, you are told that you are weak, you are nobodies, you are good for nothing and so on, and you have come to believe yourselves as such. This body of mine was also born and bred on Indian soil, but I have never for a moment allowed such baneful ideas to enter my mind. I had tremendous faith in myself. It is because of that, by the grace of the Lord, that those who look down upon us as weak and low. regard me as their teacher. If you have the same faith in yourselves as I had, if you can believe that in you is infinite power, unbounded wisdom, indomitable energy, if you can rouse that power in yourselves, you will be like me, you will do wonders. You will say, ‘Where is that strength in us to be able to think like that, and where are the teachers to tell us not of weakness but of strength and rouse in us that faith?’ It is to teach you that and to show you the way by my life that I have come to you. From me you must learn and realise that truth, and then go from town to town, from village to village, from door to door, and scatter the idea broadcast. Go and tell every Indian. ’Arise, awake and dream no morel Rouse thyself and manifest the Divinity within!’ There is no want, there is no misery that you cannot remove by the consciousness of the power of the Spirit within. Believe in these words and you will be omnipotent.”

At their very first meeting the Swami had spoken to this disciple in Sanskrit, and taking him apart had addressed him with that memorable Sliloka of the Vivekachuddmani of Shankaracharya which runs thus:

‘ Fear not, O wise one, there is no death for thee. There is a way of crossing this ocean of Samsara. That very path by which the self-controlled sages have reached to the other side of its shore, I shall point out to thee.”

At the Seal’s Garden and at the Alambazar Math learned Pandits came to test his knowledge of the Vedanta philosophy, to meet him on his own ground and test him if they could. An incident of this character took place at the Seal’s Garden. A group of Gujarati Pandits, well versed in the Vedas and the Darshanas, came to discuss the Shastras with him. Thinking that the Swami, because of his absence in the West, had lost his fluency in Sanskrit, they spoke to him in that classic language. The Swami replied in a calm and dignified way to their excited arguments, speaking all the while the purest Sanskrit. Only once did he err, using the word “Asti” for “Svasti”. The Pandits laughed aloud making much of this trifling mistake. The Swami corrected himself at once, saying, “I am the servant of the Pandits. May they allow this mistake to be overlooked! ”

The subjects of the discussion were numerous and varied, but the main topic was the respective position of the Purva and the Uttara Mimamsa. The Swami supported the Uttara Mimamsa, and with such power of logic and language that the Pandits themselves admitted the superiority of the Jnanakanda. As they left, they remarked to a group of the Swami’s admirers that though, perhaps, he had not a thorough mastery over Sanskrit grammar, he was undoubtedly a seer of the inmost spirit of the Shastras over which he had an extraordinary command. “In discussion he is unique,” they said, “and the way in which he summarises his ideas and refutes those of his opponents is wonderful. Marvellous are his intellectual gifts.”

When the Pandits had gone, the Swami referring to the incivility on the part of the Pandits, remarked that in the West such conduct would not be tolerated. “Civilised society in the West,’* he said, “takes the spirit of an argument and never seeks to pick holes in the language of an opponent, or put to one side the subject-matter in order to make fun over a grammatical mistake. Our Pandits lose sight of the spirit in quibbling over the letter of the Dharma. They fight over the husks and blinded by argumentation do not see the kernel of the corn/’

What love the Gurubhais of the Swami bore to him! While the discussion was going on. Swami Ramakrishnananda was seen sitting apart in meditation posture, counting his beads. He was praying with his whole heart to the Lord, he said later on, so that the Swami might come out victorious in the discussion.

Another interesting occurrence of this time was a visit from two gentlemen who came with a disciple of the Swami to ask him some questions on Pranayama, which had been aroused in their minds by reading Raja-Yoga. The Swami at once recognised one of them as a fellow-student of his, and made them sit by him. After replying to a few questions put by some of the other visitors, he began to speak on the subject of Pranayama without being asked. First of all he explained through modern science the origin of matter from mind, and by drawing contrasts between the laws of matter and of mind, showed the action and reaction of thought on form, and vice versa. He then went on to elucidate what Prdndyama really was. From three o’clock in the afternoon until seven in the evening, the discourse continued. From what was heard from him that day, it seemed to all that only a very little part of his knowledge of Yoga had been given out in his book, that his was not mere book-learning, but proceeded from realisation. What astounded the visitors most, however, was that the Swami should have known that they had come to him to inquire about Prani-yama, and solved their doubts in anticipation. Subsequently when a disciple asked about it, the Swami replied, “Similar incidents have happened many times in the West, and people have often asked me how I could know the questions that were agitating their minds.” The talk then drifted to thought-reading and the recollections of past births, and various other “Yoga powers”. One of the party asked him outright, “Well, Swamiji, do you know your own past births?” Instantly he answered, “Yes, I do.” But when they pressed him to draw aside the curtain and reveal the past, so that they might see who he was in other lives, he said, “I can know them—I do know them—but I prefer not to say anything on the point.”

One evening he was seated with the Swami Premananda in a room, conversing in an ordinary way, when suddenly he became silent. After a while he said to his Gurubhai, “Did you see anything?”—to which he received a negative answer. Then he said that he had just seen a ghost, with his head severed from the body, beseeching him with an agonising look to relieve him of his misery. On inquiry it was found that in that very garden-house, many years ago, a Brahmin who was accustomed to lend money at high rates of interest, had had his throat, cut by a debtor and his body thrown in the Ganga. There were several other occasions when the Swami was visited by similar apparitions ; on such occasions he would raise his heart in prayer for their deliverance and send them his benediction.

It goes without saying that the main interest of the Swami’s stay in Calcutta centred round the monastery which was then located at Alambazar near Dakshineswar. No words can describe the joy of the monks of Ramakrishna when “their beloved Naren” was with them again. Memories of the olden days were revived. The days with the Master and the innumerable experiences of the wandering life of every one were recalled ; and the Swami entertained his Gurubhais and the Bhaktas of the Lord with hundreds of tales and episodes of his life and work in “the dim and distant West.” He freed them of many of their social inhibitions by making them accept his European disciples in the Brotherhood, and gradually overcame their objections to association with the Westerners. The Swami had finally the satisfaction of seeing his Gurubhais entertaining his disciples from across the seas as their real brethren.

Of the Swami’s numerous triumphs one of the greatest was the conversion of his Gurubhais from individualistic to the universal idea of religious life in which public spirit and service to fellow-men occupied a prominent place. Up to this time the ideal of the monks of the Math was, to strive for personal Mukti and realisation of the Supreme Atman by severe penance and meditation, remaining as much as possible aloof from the world and its cares and sorrows, according to the prevailing Hindu idea, sanctified by tradition and sanctioned by the sages and seers from the Vedic period down to the present day. But with the appearance of the Swami among them a new order of things was inaugurated. He railed at them—as he had done again and again in his epistles to them from the West— for their lack of faith in themselves and in the great mission of the Master, for their failure to organise themselves into an active body, and for their neglect in preaching the gospel of liberation to others. He appealed to their innate strength, calling them spiritual lions, every one capable of moving the world, if he but used his latent powers. The age demanded, he said, that they should carry the new light unto others, that they themselves should show by their example how to serve the poor, the helpless and the diseased, seeing God in them, and that they should inspire others to do the same. The mission of his life, he said, was to create a new order of Sannyasins in India who would dedicate their lives to help and save others.

The proposition, though grand and inspiring, was to them too revolutionary and staggering. How could they suddenly change at another’s bidding their precious religious ideal to which they had given their lives, for one which apparently went against their whole nature and training? With them the struggle was hard and long. But who could resist the Swami? He bore them down by the overwhelming power of his intellect and his keen insight into the significance of the teachings and the life and the mission of Shri Ramakrishna, no less than by his burning love for and passionate appeals to them. He interpreted his Master’s message in a new light, showing them that their supreme duty lay in the carrying on of the Master’s mission, the bringing about of a religious rejuvenation by raising the condition of the masses through service, and scattering broadcast the life-giving ideas of the Master over the entire world. The idea of personal liberation, he pointed out, was unworthy of those who believed themselves to be the favoured disciples of an Incarnation—for had not their Mukti been already assured by that very fact? They were now to arouse themselves and awaken others. That was, said the Swami, the mission entrusted to them by Shri Ramakrishna through him. Finally, however, out of their profound faith in their Leader, his brother-disciples bowed their heads in acquiescence, knowing his voice to be the voice of their Master ; all girded up their loins, to do anything and to go anywhere, for the good of their fellow-beings at the bidding of the Swami.

As the first fruit of this singular self-abandonment, one whose whole life and soul had been indissolubly merged, as it were, in the ceremonial worship of the Master unremittingly for twelve years, who in his unparalleled devotion to that duty, had never left the precincts of the Math even for a single day— Swami Ramakrishnananda—went to Madras at the behest of the Swami to open a centre there to propagate the teachings of the Vedanta in Southern India. Swamis Saradananda and Abhedananda had already gone to the West at the call of the Swami to help him in the work there. And full of the same spirit Swami Akhandananda went to the Murshidabad District to start famine relief work for the people dying of starvation there. It may be said here to Swami Akhandananda’s credit, that this impulse to be of service to his fellow-men had seized him first amongst all his Gurubhais as early as 1894 when he was in Khetri. He is seen then seeking approval for his intention to open schools to educate the masses. The other Gurubhais of Swami Vivekananda were also ready to take up, as occasion demanded, any work of religious and philanthropic utility launched by him or to further his ideas and plans of work in India and abroad. Thus gradually came into existence the various monastic centres, Sevashramas or Homes of Service, and the relief centres in times of plague, famine and flood under the charge and with the co-operation of his Gurubhais and disciples.

After his arrival in Calcutta the increased strain caused by the multifarious demands and activities in the heat of the plains was too much for the Swami. Physicians advised him to take complete rest at once ; but at this time he was very busy with plans for a monastery in the Himalayas, with the removal of the Math to a permanent healthy site on the bank of the Ganga, and with the founding of a religious and philanthropic organisation to be known as the Ramakrishna Mission, which would provide training for his own disciples and instruction for the hundreds of persons that came to him. Besides, his thoughts were with his two Gurubhais who were doing excellent work in America and England ; from both these countries he was receiving numerous letters asking his advice and praying for his speedy return to the West, where “still larger opportunities” were opening up for him.

Knowing it would be best to follow the advice of the doctors, the Swami relinquished his work in Calcutta and visits to other parts of India for the time being, and went on to Darjeeling whither Mr. and Mrs. Sevier had preceded him. He was joined by Swamis Brahmananda, Trignnatita and Jnanananda, by Babu Girish Chandra Ghosh, Mr. Goodwin, Dr. Turnbull and Messrs. Alasinga Perumal, G. G. Narasimhacharya and Singara-velu Mudaliar. The three last-named were his devoted Madrasi disciples of the olden days, who had come with him and his party from Madras to Calcutta and were living with him at the Math. In Darjeeling all became the guests of Mr. and Mrs. M. N. Banerjee. Through the generosity of the Maharaja of Burdwan, who revered the Swami greatly, a portion of his residence known as “Rose Bank” was placed at the Swami’s disposal for some time.

The Swami now gave himself up to complete rest, walking about on the mountain paths, visiting a Buddhist monastery in the neighbourhood, rejoicing in the glorious associations of the Himalayas, conversing with his friends, or in hours of silent meditation.

While the Swami was the guest at the residence of Mr. M. N. Banerjee, two incidents occurred which give one a glimpse of his Yoga powers. There was then living with the family, Mr. Molilal Mukherjee, who later became Swami Sachchida-nanda. At this time he was suffering from high fever with delirium. The Swami out of sympathy just touched his head ; the fever subsided at once, and the patient became normal. The same person was a Bhakta of the emotional type, and often in the course of Sankirtana fell into emotional states in which he would cry and groan and roll on the ground beating his hands and feet against it. The Swami touched him over the heart one day. Thenceforward the whole religious temperament of the man was changed, and he became an Advaitin devoting himself to the study and practice of Jnana-Yoga! Needless to say, he was no longer subject to trances.

With the exception of a flying visit to Calcutta to receive the Raja of Khetri, who had come all the way from Rajputana to see him after his return from the West, the Swami was free from work and worry. On the occasion of the Raja’s visit, the Prince was sumptuously entertained in the monastery at Alam-bazar, and the Swami held a long discourse with him pertaining to the mission of Hinduism. Raja Ajit Singh and several other ruling princes intended to start shortly for England. The former tried hard to induce the Swami to go with them, but the doctors would not hear of his undertaking any physical or mental labour just then.

Speaking generally, the Swami’s health was very bad, though at times he felt some of his old vigour and strength. He was cautioned not to exert himself even to the extent of reading, and above all, not to indulge in any deep or serious thought. But to him to be idle was worse than death.

After a time he returned to Calcutta for two weeks in order to supervise and settle certain important matters before leaving for Almora for his health.

The Swami was far happier at the monastery where he could enjoy the freedom of the monk among his beloved Gurubhais and his devoted disciples than anywhere else. At this time several educated young men joined the Math, as a result of their listening to the inspiring words of the Swami concerning Vairagya. He trained them for future work by constant instruction, and holding classes at the Math on the Bhagavad-Gita and the Vedanta. Even during the years of his absence from the Brotherhood, four young men had joined the Math and were leading the life of Brahmacharya. They were anxious to be initiated into Sannvasa by the Swami himself. For several years they had lived under the supervision of the elder members of the monastery ; and the Swami, knowing that they were worthy, consented to make them his own disciples. The elder members raised serious objections with respect to one of the four because of his past life. Ellis roused the Swami to the reply, “What is this! If we shrink from sinners, who else will save them? Besides, the very fact that one has taken refuge in the Math in his desire to lead a better life, shows that his intentions are good, and we must help him. And even if one is bad and perverted, and you cannot change his character, why then, have you taken the Gerua cloth?—why have you assumed the role of teachers?*’ The Brahmacharis who were initiated into Sannvasa, became known respectively as Swamis Virajananda, Nirbhaya-nanda, Prakashananda and Nityananda. Of these the first-named had joined the Math in 1891, the next two much later, and the last, who was much older even than the Swami, had just done so. The initiation ceremony was very impressive and delighted the Swami more than the huge ovations in his honour.

On the day previous to the initiation ceremony, the Swami spoke of nothing but the glories of renunciation, his eyes emitting fire, as it were, and his words of power infusing strength into the aspirants. The discourse, owing to its length cannot be given here. The Swami concluded:    “Remember, for the salvation of one’s own soul and for the good and happiness of the many, the Sannyasin is born in the world. To sacrifice his own life for others, to alleviate the misery of millions rending the air with their cries, to wipe away the tears from the eyes of the widow, to console the heart of the bereaved mother, to provide the ignorant and the depressed masses with the ways and means for the struggle for existence and make them stand on their own feet, to preach broadcast the teachings of the Shastras to one and all without distinction, for their material and spiritual welfare, to rouse the sleeping lion of Brahman in the hearts of all beings by the diffusion of the light of Knowledge—the Sannyasin is born in the world!” And turning to his Gurubhais he exclaimed:    “Remember, it is for the consummation of this purpose in life that we have taken birth, and we shall lay down our lives for it. Arise, awake, and arouse and awaken others, fulfil your mission in life and you will reach the highest Goal ! ”

“You must renounce everything,” he continued, you must not seek pleasure or comfort for yourself. All attachment will have to be cut and cast aside. You must look upon lust and gold as poison, name and fame as the vilest filth, glory as a terrible hell, pride of birth or position as sinful as drinking wine. Being the teacher of your fellow-men and devoted to the Self within, you will have to live to attain freedom and for the good of the world. Can you strive with your whole soul to do these things? Take this path only after serious reflection. There is yet time to return to the old life. Are you ready to obey my orders implicitly? If I ask you to face a tiger or a venomous snake, if I ask you to jump into the Ganga and catch a crocodile, or if I want to sell you to work the rest of your life in a tea-garden in Assam as coolies, or if I order you to starve yourselves to death or burn yourselves in a slow fire, thinking it will be for your good, are you ready to obey me instantly?” The four Brahmacharis implied their assent by bowing their heads in silence. He then duly initiated them into Sannyasa.

Another initiation ceremony took place at the Alambazar Math about this time, when Mantras were given to Sharat Chandra Chakravarti, a lay disciple, and to a Brahmachari (later known as Swami Shuddhananda) who had recently joined the Math after hearing the Swami speak on renunciation. To Sharat he said, “Arouse Shraddha in yourself and in your countrymen! Like Nachiketa go to Yama’s door, if necessary, to know the Truth, for the salvation of your soul, for the solution of the mystery of life and death! If going into the jaws of death helps you to gain the Truth, you have to do that fearlessly. All fear is death ; you have to go beyond it. Be fearless, be ready, from today, to lay down your life for your own Moksha and for the good of others. Otherwise what is the use of bearing this burden of flesh and bones? Being initialed into the fiery Mantra of absolute renunciation for the sake of the Lord, give away your body for the good of the world, as did the Sage Dadhichi when the Devas came and told him that the demon Vritra could not be killed with any other weapon but by a thunderbolt made out of his bonesl”

Whenever the Swami came to Calcutta for a brief sojourn, he stayed at Balaram Babu’s house in Baghbazar, where he and the monastic members of the Order always found a ready welcome and warm hospitality. On such occasions it was the scene of the gathering of Bhaktas and visitors from all parts of the city.

It was in the afternoon of May 1, 1897, that a representative gathering of all the monastic and lay disciples of Slid Rarna-krishna took place at Balaram Babu’s house, in response to the Swami’s intimation of his desire to hold a meeting for the purpose of founding an Association. He had long thought of bringing about a co operation between the monastic and the lay disciples of Shri Ramakrishna, and of organising in a systematic way the hitherto unsystematic activities, both spiritual and philanthropic, of his Gurubhais. When all had assembled, the Swami opened the meeting by speaking in Bengali to the following effect:

“From my travels in various countries I have come to the conclusion that without organisation nothing great and permanent can be done. But in a country like India, at our present stage of development, it docs not seem to me well advised to start an organisation on a democratic basis in which every member has an equal voice, and decisions are arrived at by a majority of the votes of the community. With the West the case is different.

. . . Amongst, us also, when with the spread of education we shall learn to sacrifice, to stand alxwc our individual interests and concerns, for the gootl of the community or the nation at large, then it would be possible to w’ork on a democratic basis. Taking this into consideration, we should have for our organisation at present a Dictator whose orders everyone should obey. Then, in the fullness of time, it will be guided by the opinion and consent of the members.

‘’This Association will bear the name of him in whose name we have become Sannyasins, taking whom as your ideal you are leading the life of the householders in the field of activity of this Samsara, and whose holy name and the influence of whose unique life and teachings have, within twelve years of his passing away, spread in such an unthought-of way both in the East and the West. Let this Sangha, or organisation, be therefore named the Ramakrishna Mission. We are only the servants of the Master. May you all help us in this work.”

The proposal being enthusiastically supported by all the householder disciples, the future method of work was discussed and some resolutions were passed, laying down the main principles and the aims and objects by which the movement was to be guided. As originally drawn up, they were to the following effect:

This Association (Sangha) shall be known as the Ramakrishna Mission.

The aim of the Sangha is to preach those truths wdiich Shri Ramakrishna has, for the good of humanity, preached and demonstrated by practical application in his own life, and to help others to put these truths into practice in their lives for their temporal, mental and spiritual advancement.

The duty of the Mission is to conduct in the right spirit the activities of the movement inaugurated by Shri’Ramakrishna for the establishment of fellowship among the followers of different religions, knowing them all to be so many forms only of one undying Eternal Religion.

Its Methods of Action are:

(a)    To train men so as to make them competent to teach such knowledge or sciences as are conducive to the material and spiritual welfare of the masses;

(b)    to promote and encourage arts and industries; and

(c) to introduce and spread among the people in general Vedantic and other religious ideas in the way in which they were elucidated in the life of Shri Ramakrishna.

Indian Work Department:

The activities of the Mission should be directed to the establishment of Maths and Ashramas in different parts of India for the training of Sannyasins and such of the householders as may be willing to devote their lives to educate others, and to the finding of the means by which they would be enabled to educate the people, by going about from one province to another.

Its work in the Foreign Department should be to send trained members of the Order to countries outside India to start centres there for the preaching of Vedanta in order to bring about a closer relation and better understanding between India and foreign countries.

The aims and ideals of the Mission being purely spiritual and humanitarian, it shall have no connection with politics.

Anyone who believes in the mission of Shri Ramakrishna, or who sympathises or is willing to co-operate with the above-mentioned aims and objects of the Association, is eligible for membership.

After the resolutions were passed, office-bearers were appointed. The Swami himself became the General President and made Swami Rrahmananda and Swami Yogananda, the President and the Vice-President, respectively, of the Calcutta centre. It was decided that meetings would be held at Balaram Babu’s house every Sunday afternoon, when recitations and readings from the Gita, the Upanishads and other Vedanta scriptures with comments and annotations would be given, and papers read and lectures delivered, the subjects being chosen by the President. All these were decided in the two preliminary meetings of the first and the fifth of May, and the first general meeting of the members was held on the ninth under the presidency of Swami Brahmananda. For three years the Ramakrishna Mission held its sittings at the same place ; whenever the Swami was in Calcutta, he was present and spoke and sang.

For some time the philanthropic and missionary work was carried on through the medium of this Association. In 1899, however, the Swami started a Math or monastery at Belur, and made over its management to a number of Trustees by a Deed of Trust in 1901, the main objects of the Math being the training of a band of monks for self-realisation and for the acquisition of a capacity to serve the world in all possible ways. Soon after this Math was established as the central seat of the monastic order, the Ramakrishna Mission Association ceased to function as an independent organisation, and the Math authorities themselves carried on the philanthropic and charitable work originally undertaken by the Mission Association.

In course of time, with the growth of its scope and public responsibilities it was felt that for the efficient carrying on of the philanthropic charitable and missionary work, as well as for giving it a legal status it was better to have a separate organisation known as the Ramakrishna Mission. Accordingly in the year 1909 a Society under the name of the Ramakrishna Mission was registered under Act XXI of 1860. The exigencies of the Law required certain changes to be made in the rules and regulations of this Mission Association as originally drawn under the guidance of the Swami in 1897. Most of these changes, however, were of an executive nature, the principles and objects as originally laid down by the Swami remaining the same. The management of the Ramakrishna Mission was henceforth vested in a Governing Body consisting of the Trustees of the Belur Math for the time being. The registration of the Mission was undertaken to keep the Math activities, viz the training and maintenance of a band of Sannyasins to carry on religious work, distinct from the Mission activities.

The activities of the Belur Math extended, and in course of time various branch Maths sprang up in different parts of the country. These branch Maths and the Math at Belur were from their very inception treated as part of a single organisation. Side by side with the springing into existence of the branch Maths, the Ramakrishna Mission extended its sphere of activities, and the various philanthropic and charitable institutions that had already been started by it in different parts of India were gradually incorporated into the registered Society known as the Ramakrishna Mission, and new centres also began to be started.

Though the Ramakrishna Mission and the Ramakrishna Math with their respective centres are distinct institutions, there has been a close association between the two bodies as the Governing Body of the Mission is identical with the Trustees of the Math, and the principal workers of the Mission are members of the Ramakrishna Math, and both have their headquarters at Belur Math. But the Math and the Mission being independent of each other in their respective spheres of activities, own separate funds and keep separate accounts of them.

Turning now from the proceedings of the inauguration meeting of a semi-public nature, one finds the Swami in the inner circle of his Gurubhais and disciples, talking about his ideas and intentions in starting this momentous movement. A Gurubhai having protested that the Swami’s ways of preaching, such as lecturing and holding meetings, and his ideas of doing works of public utility, were rather Western in type and conception and incompatible with Shri Ramakrishna’s teachings, the Swami was roused to an apostolic mood and delivered himself thus with great fervour:

“How do you know that these are not in keeping with his ideas? Do you want to shut Shri Ramakrishna, the embodiment of infinite ideas, within your own limits? I shall break these limits and scatter his ideas broadcast all over the world. He never enjoined me to introduce his worship and the like. The methods of spiritual pitictice, concentration and meditation and other high ideals of religion that lie taught—those wc must realise and teach mankind. Infinite are the ideas and infinite are the paths that lead to the Goal. I was not born to create a new sect in this world, too full of sects already. Blessed are we that we have found refuge at the feet of our Master, and it is our bounden duty to give the ideas entrusted to us freely to the whole world.”

The Gurubhai raising no dissentient voice to these words, the Swami continued:

“Time and again have I received in this life marks of his grace. He himself is at my back and is making me do all these things in these ways.

When I used to lie under a tree, exhausted, smitten with hunger, when I had not a strip of cloth even wherewith to tie my Kaupina, when I was determined to travel round the world penniless, even then, through his grace I received help and succour in every way! Then again, when crowds jostled with one another in the streets of Chicago to have a sight of this Vivekananda, I have been able, through his blessings, to digest without difficulty all that honour, a hundredth part of which would have made any man go off his head! By the will of the Lord, victory has been mine everywhere. Now I intend to do something for this country. Do you all give up doubts and misgivings and help me in my work, and you will sec how, by his grace wonders will be accomplished.’

The Gurubhai said:

“Whatever you wish shall be done. Wo are always ready to follow vour leading. I clearly see that the Master is working through you. Still,

I confess, doubts do sometimes arise in the mind, for, as we saw it, his method of doing things was so different, and I am led to question myself if we are not straying from the path laid down by him.”

The Swami then said:

“The thing is this: Shri Ramakrishna is far greater than his disciples understand him to be. He is the embodiment of infinite spiritual ideas capable of development in infinite ways. Even if one can find a limit to the knowledge of Brahman, one cannot measure the unfathomable depths of our Master’s mind! One gracious glance of his eyes can create a hundred thousand Vivekanandas at this instant! If he chooses now instead to work through me, making me his instrument, I can only bow to his will.”

Indeed, it was the Swami among all the disciples of Shri Ramakrishna, who saw in the Master not a mere person but a principle, not only the apostle of realisation and renunciation, but also of service to humanity in the spirit of worship. Did not the Master fling away the bliss of Brahman to be of service to mankind? Did he not treat all beings as Narayanas (divinities) every moment of his life? Who among his disciples has not seen his unhappiness at the sight of poverty and misery, and his touching solicitation for their relief? Who could ever feel like him, his whole body and soul wrenched, as it were, at the distress and destitution of his fellow-men and at the sight of oppression to men and animals? True, this phase of his unique character was considerably overshadowed by the grandeur of his illuminated personality ever merging in the superconscious state and breaking forth into utterances of wonderful power and charm exhorting all to seek the Highest. It was left to his greatest disciple to interpret his Master’s life and teachings from all angles. It was the genius of Swami Vivekananda to bring out and emphasise this human side of his Master’s nature and to clear away the misconception which prevailed in the minds of many, that Renunciation and Service were conflicting ideas which could not be combined without detriment to the one or the other. And it was to his glory that he concretised and gave shape to those divine impulses through the institution started under the name of the Ramakrishna Mission for practising and preaching the Dlianna in its universal aspect, Renunciation and Service, according to him, being the twofold National Ideal of Modern India.

Another afternoon, some time later, when the Swami was living at Balaram Babu’s house, he was talking in a light mood with some of his Gurubhais, and lay disciples of the Master. At these moments he would be very gay, making all sorts of jokes, willing to take as well as give in the battle of wits. One of the Swami’s Gurubhais (Swami Yogananda) was taking him to task for not preaching the ideas of Shri Ramakrishna and challenging him to prove how his plans could be reconciled with their Master’s teachings. For Shri Ramakrishna insisted, above all, on Bhakti and on the practice of Sadhana for the realisation of God, while the Swami constantly urged them to go about working, preaching, and serving the poor and the diseased—the very things which forced the mind outward, which was the greatest impediment to the life of Sadhani. Then again, the Swami’s ideas of starting Maths and Homes of Service for the public good, his ideas of organisation and of patriotism which were undoubtedly Western in conception, his efforts to create a new type of Sannyd-sin with a broader ideal of renunciation, and others of a similar nature were incompatible with Shri Ramakrishna’s ideal of renunciation and would surely have been repudiated by him. The Swami took these observations of his Gurubhai at first lightly and retorted in a jocular way, saying, “What do you know? You are an ignorant man. You are a fit Chela of Shri Ramakrishna! Like Guru like Chela! Your study ended, with ‘Ka,’ the first letter of the alphabet, like Prahlada’s, who being reminded by this letter of Krishna, could not proceed further. You are Bhaktas, or in other words, .sentimental fools! What do you understand of religion? You are babies. You are only good at praying with folded hands:    ‘O Lord! how beautiful is Your nose, how sweet are Your eyes,’ and all such nonsense ; and you think your salvation is secured, that Shri Ramakrishna will come at the final hour and take you up by the hand to the highest heaven! Study, public preaching, and doing humanitarian works are, according to you, Maya because Shri Rama-krishna did not do them himself! Because he said to someone, ‘Seek and find God first; doing good to the world is a presumption! ‘ As if God-realisation is such an easy thing to be achieved! As if He is such a fool as to make Himself a plaything in the hands of the imbecile!”

Growing more and more serious he thundered on:

“You think you understand Shri Ramakrishna better than myself! You think Juana is dry knowledge to be attained by a desert path, killing out the tendcrest faculties of the heart. Your Bhakti is sentimental nonsense which makes one impotent. You want to preach Ramakrishna as you have understood him which is mighty little. Hands off! Who cares for your Ramakrishna? Who cares for your Bhakti and Mukti? Who cares what the scriptures say? I will go to hell cheerfully a thousand times, if I can rouse my countrymen, immersed in Tamas, and make them stand on their own feet and be Men, inspired with the spirit of Karma-Yoga. I am not a follower of Ramakrishna or any one, I am a follower of him only who carries out my plans! I am not a servant of Ramakrishna or any one, but of him only who serves and helps others, without caring for his own Mukti.”

His voice became choked, his whole frame shook with intense emotion. He could not contain himself any longer. Tears streamed from his eyes. Like a flash of lightning he was up on his feet and ran from the room to his sleeping apartment. His Gurubhais were seized with fear and repented of their criticisms spoken to mm in that strain. A few of them followed the Swami, some minutes later, to his room. Entering with cautious steps, they found him sitting in meditation posture, his whole frame stiff, tears flowing from his half-closed eyes, the hair of his body standing on end. He was absorbed in what seemed to them, Bhava-Samadhi! Nearly an hour ; the Swami got up, washed his face and came out to his waiting friends in the sitting-room. The atmosphere was too tense for words. Finally the Swami broke the silence thus:

“When one attains Bhakii one’s heart and nerves become so soft and delicate that they cannot bear even the touch of a flower! Do you know that I cannot even read a novel nowadays! I cannot think or talk of Shri Rarnakrishna long, without being overwhelmed. So I am trying and trying always to keep down the rush of Bhakti welling within me. I am trying to bind and bind myself with the iron chains of Juana, for still my work to my motherland is unfinished, and my message to the world not yet fully delivered. So, as soon as I find that Bhakti feelings are trying to come up to sweep me off my feet, I give a hard knock to them and make myself adamant by bringing up austere Jnana. Oh, I have work to do! I am a slave of Rarnakrishna, who left his work to be done by me and will not give me rest till I have finished it! And, oh, bow shall I speak of him! Oh, his love for me!”

Swami Yogananda and others fearing a repetition of the above experience gently interrupted him by asking if he would not like to have an evening stroll on the roof of the house as it was too warm in the room. Then they took him up there and diverted his thoughts by small talk, till it was far into the night, and he was his normal self again.

This incident is very significant, exposing as it does the depths of the Swami’s inner nature, namely, that of Bhakti, and also as it gives an idea of the tremendous cost at which his Jnana and his spirit of service to others had been acquired. The monks of the Order ever sought to divert his attention from such tempestuous outbursts, for that would bring him closer to his real nature, when they knew he would tear off all mortal bonds and soar, through Mahasamadhi, into the region of the Supreme Consciousness of Brahman. Reflecting on such moments in the Swami’s life, one of the greatest of his Sannyasin Gurubhais has said, “You see, the Master has brought us all into this world to keep his (the Swami’s) mind diverted to external matters and to his various plans of work, so that he may live long enough to fulfil our Master’s mission. Otherwise he may fly off at any time to the sphere of Nirvikalpa Samadhi.”

So profound and convincing was the impression created, that never more was any protest made against his plans and methods of work. It was like the clearing of the atmosphere, which had been overhung with clouds of doubt, now and again breaking forth into storms’ of conflict of ideals. Everyone realised as never before that the Master was at the back of Vivekananda working through him.

IN NORTHERN INDIA

Unfortunately the Swami’s health was causing him trouble. He was counselled by his physicians and urged by his Guru-bliais to start as soon as possible for the dry and cool climate of Alinora whither Miss Muller, who had joined him in Calcutta from England, and Mr. Goodwin had already preceded him. He had received repeated invitations from the residents of that hill-station to visit them. Accordingly he left Calcutta on May 11, in the company of some of his Gurubhais and disciples.

The Swami met with a most cordial welcome at Lucknow where he remained one night on his way to Alinora. At Rath-godam he was met by several of his Almora admirers and Mr. Goodwin who had come down to receive him. At Lodea, close to Almora, there was a huge crowed of citizens waiting, in the afternoon, to convey him along the final part of his journey, and at their request the Swami mounted a horse dressed in handsome trappings and headed a procession into the town. It seemed that, as the Bazar was reached, every citizen of the place had joined the company. Thousands of Hindu ladies from the tops of houses and from windows, showered flowers and rice on the Swami, as he passed along. In the centre of the towm, a section of the Bazar street had been turned into a pandal capable of holding three thousand people. Pandit Jwala Dutt Joshi read first a Hindi address of welcome on behalf of the Reception Committee. Pandit Hari Ram Pande followed with a second address from the Swami’s host, Lala Badri Shah Thulgharia, and a Pandit read an equally appreciative address in Sanskrit.

The Swami made a brief reply, in which he touched feelingly upon the spiritualising influence that the blessed Himalayas had exerted on Indian thought, and how he himself had longed from his very youth to pass his days in their midst.

Though he knew that he would never be able to do so in the way he had planned, still he prayed that “that silence and unknownness of the ancient Rishis”, would be given to him, so that he might pass the last part of his life in peace and meditation there. He said that at the very sight of those mountains, all the propensities to work, that ferment that had been going on in his brain for years, seemed to quiet down, and his mind reverted to that one eternal theme which the Himalayas stand for—Renunciation!

Again the Swami was busy. Whole days passed in holding religious discourse with numerous visitors. In spite of his not getting rest, his health improved gradually.

Amongst those who accompanied the Swami to Almora or met him there or who accompanied him later in his journeys through Northern India, were Swam is Yogananda, Niran-janananda, Adbliutananda, Achyutananda, Vijnanananda, Sada-nanda, old Saclichidananda, Shuddhananda, Brahmachari Krishnalal, and Mr. J. J. Goodwin. With these the Swami passed many an hour of fun as well as of religious instruction.

But the Swami was not to be left in peace. Since his landing on Indian soil with unprecedented ovations and homage from the nation as a whole, a persistent campaign of misrepresentation of his work and influence and baseless attacks on his character were being made, chiefly by certain interested American Missions in India and in the United States, in their endeavour to thwart his work during his absence, and to check the ever-increasing tide of religious revival which his triumphal progress through Southern India had aroused. False and base reports communicated to American papers about the Swami’s success and his propaganda, calculated to discredit him, found wide publicity and were made capital of in the United States, giving rise to fierce criticism. Though heaps of these newspaper cuttings reached him, the Swami, not in the least daunted, treated them with utter indifference. It is needless to speak of them in detail, as the Swami’s own words written in private letters and those of his American friends and disciples who stood up in his defence are amply explanatory. It is a pity that a distinguished Christian Divine like Dr. Barrows, who came out to India on a lecture tour shortly before the Swami’s return from the West, made no secret of his feelings of jealousy and distrust while he was in this country and after his return home. As early as January 30, 1897, the Swami had written to a friend in Chicago:

‘‘I had written a letter to my people from London to receive Dr. Barrows kindly. They accorded him a big reception, but it was not my fault that he could not make any impression in Calcutta …. Now Dr. Barrows thinks a world of me, I hear. Such is the world!”

The very evening of his landing in California on May 10, Dr. Barrows was reported to have made remarks in an interview with the representative of the Chronicle, which according to the paper, “would make that Indian personage’s ears tingle if he could hear them”. Here are some excerpts:

‘‘The Swami arrived in Madras one week ahead of me. but he did not call upon me to renew our acquaintanceship. Instead he hurriedly left Madras the day after I arrived. All that the Chronicle credited him with saying about the women of America is true, and knowing that he had been telling lies he avoided me. There is one thing I want to correct however. The Swami has not lost caste through his conduct. It transpires that he never was a Brahmin. He belongs to the Shudra caste, the lowest of the respectable castes in India. All that he has said about American women and American institutions disgusted some of the Hindus I met. They came to me and declared that he did not represent or preach their faith.

“What I particularly object to in Vivekananda is his ridiculous and exaggerated statement about the influence of Hindu speakers in England and America. He is a man of brilliant and pleasant qualities, but he seems to have lost his head. 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 says that in no speech, in no interview, and in no conversation had a single word fallen from him derogatory to American women. On the contrary he lost no opportunity of speaking of their generosity and kindness and of their sincerity in the search for truth. The other charge is equally untrue. When asked about his mission, the Swami repeatedly avoided answering at all, and when pressed to talk on the subject, spoke with a modesty which would well become some of those who appear to be seeking notoriety at his expense.

Mrs. Sara C. Bull writing in defence of the Swami to Dr. Lewis G. Janes on June 7, says:

“Thank you for the California clipping. Since Dr. Barrows so unqualifiedly denounces Vivekananda as a liar and for that reason charges him with intent to avoid him at Madras, I regret, for his own good, that Dr. Barrows should have omitted all mention of the Swami Vivekananda’s widely circulated letters of welcome urging upon the Hindus, whatever their views of Dr. Barrows* Message concerning their and his own religion might be, to offer a hospitality of thought and greeting worthy of the kindness extended to the Eastern delegates at Chicago by Dr. Barrows and Mr. Bonney. Those letters circulated at the time when the Indian nation was preparing a welcome unprecedented for warmth and enthusiasm to the monk, contrast markedly with Dr. Barrows* recent utterances in California, on his own home-coming, concerning Vivekananda, and bring the two men before the Indian public for their judgment. . . .

“It may be added in this connection, that Vivekananda was veearied to the extreme and was threatened with a breakdown in health from the first to the last of his public receptions on Indian soil, and, finally, by command of his physician obliged to forgo more fatigue and take absolute rest for some months’ time. Vivekananda having been my guest, attacks concerning him are sent to me, and I know that for two years previous to his return to India the Swami was quoted both here and there as having denounced American women at different points in India, showing that he has a double or that his opponents pass on, as does Dr. Barrows, sentiments deemed for his utterance, omitting the sum and substance of what he has uttered again and again. The dry humour of American pleasantries not infrequently used by gentlemen, but unsafe for any foreigner, occasionally tempt the monk with his rare facility in the use of English, to a misplaced and out-of-taste quotation, while it is also true that his habitual self-control is under strong provocation sometimes lost; but a fair opponent he is and, I can testify, to even unfair and untruthful detractors. With the power held in common with great preachers and artists to draw to himself emotional men and women, it is to his credit that he may sometimes use harsh characterisation rather than permit a blind following to himself.

“The homes open to the Swami Vivekananda in the United States would honour any man. His friends will agree with Dr. Barrows that he has genius, not for geniality alone, but for intellectual power and the modesty of the true scholar, that will guard him from egotism and vanity. He deals as few can with agnosticism and atheism, and gives earnest students a philosophical analysis that establishes Religion, embracing the sectarian religions, and in spirituality he has the childlikcncss of spirit that will make him the loving servant of his people.

“It is always painful to encounter workers rightly devoted to sectarian interests and service, indulging in the present rule of habitual asperities and quick distrust rather than looking for points of contact. I send you quotations from the Swami’s letters to India and here, giving in reply Vivcka-nanda’s sober opinions to the points of attack as made by Dr. Clerk, Dr. Barrows and others. PTay use them or niv own estimate as you deem fit.

“PS. The allusion to Vivekananda’s exaggerated statement of his Western work and Mission is as mistaken as Dr. Barrows’ suggestion that he has only a temporary influence. Yivckananda returns not Europeanised, and the urgent calls to be filled as soon as bis health permits are evidence of this. I believe him as one to welcome all true religious workers there.

“The German schools, the English Orientalists and our own Emerson testify to the fact that it is litcially true that Yedantic thought pervades the Western thought of today, and it is in this sense only that Yivckananda could mean that thousands in the West are Ycdantists- ~a philosophy able to include sectarians.”

The following quotations from the Swami’s letters written during these times to intimate disciples in America, referring to the above controversy and certain others from rival bodies in India, furnish the key to his position and to his conduct. Writing on February 25, he says:

“I have not a moment to die, as they say. What with processions and tom-tomings and various other methods of reception all over the country I am nearly dead. . . . On the other hand, the country is full of persons jealous and pitiless who would leave? no stone unturned to pull my work to pieces.

“But as you know well, the more the opposition the more is the demon in me roused.”

Remarking on the cause of the failure of Dr. Barrows’ mission in India he writes in his letter of April 28, 1897:

“Dr. Barrows has reached America by this time, I hope. Poor man! He came here to preach the most bigoted Christianity, with the usual result that nol)ody listened to him. Of course they received him very kindly, but it was my letter that did that. I could not put brains into him! Moreover, he seems to be a queer sort of man. I hear that he was angry at the national rejoicings over my home-coming. You ought to have sent a brainier man anyway, for the Parliament of Religions has been made a farce of to the Hindu mind by Dr. Barrows. On metaphysical lines no nation on earth can hold a candle to the Hindu ; and curiously, all those that come over here from Christian lands to preach, have that one antiquated foolishness of an argument that the Christians are powerful and rich and the Hindus are not, ergo Christianity is better than Hinduism, to which the Hindu very aptly retorts, that that is the very reason why Hinduism is a religion and Christianity is not; because, in this beastly world, it is blackguardism and that alone that prospers; virtue always suffers. It seems, however advanced the Western nations are in scientific culture, they are mere babies in metaphysical and spiritual education. Material science can only give worldly prosperity, whilst spiritual science is for eternal life. If there be no eternal life, still the enjoyment of spiritual thoughts as ideals is keener and mikes a man happier, whilst the foolery of materialism leads to competition and undue ambition and ultimate death, individual and national.

“. . . .Do you know Dr. Colston Turnbull of Chicago? He came here a few weeks before I reached India. He seems to have had a great liking for me, with the result that Hindu people all liked him very much.

“‘…. I am going to grow a big beard, now that my hair is turning grey. It gives a venerable appearance and saves one from American scandal* mongers. O thou white hairs, how much thou canst conceal! All glory unto thee, hallelujah!”

Justifying his plain-speaking on certain occasions in India, which gave offence to the parties concerned, he writes to a friend on May 5:

“About the-s and the–s, you must remember first that in India, they are nonentities. They may publish a few papers and make a lot of splash and try to catch Occidental ears, but I do not know if there are two dozen’s of Hindu birth and two hundred-s in the whole of India.

I was one man in America and another here. Here the whole nation is looking upon me as their authority ; there I was a much-reviled preacher. Here princes draw my carriage ; there I would not be admitted to a decent hotel! My utterances here, therefore, must be for the good of the race—my people—however unpleasant they might appear to a friend’s acceptance, love and toleration for everything sincere and honest—but never for hypocrisy! The-s tried to fawn and flatter me, as I was ‘the authority’ in India. Therefore it was all the more necessary for me to stop my work from lending any sanction to their hypocrisies, by a few bold decisive words, and the thing was done. I am very glad of it. . . . Let me again tell you that India is already Ramakrishna’s and for a purified Hinduism, whether I live a few years more or not.”

On June 8, he writes from Almora in a mood of Vairagya:

“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 Rarma its sway. I have no bonds here below. I have seen life and it is all self— life is for self, love for self, honour for self, everything for self. I look back and scarcely find any action that 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 specially 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 the 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 lip or down —who cares!

“I was born for the life of the scholar—retired, quiet, poring over my books. But the Mother dispenses otherwise. Vet the tendency is there.”

And on July 9, he is seen writing the following letter to an intimate friend in America who grew nervous and uneasy at the repeated attacks made against him in the newspapers, being afraid that these might injure his cause there. The letter shows the Swami in his combative spirit, his righteous indignation roused under extreme provocation to express himself in a masterpiece of self-defence and passionate nionasticism:

“. . . . I had also a lot of cuttings from different. American papers fearfully criticising my utterances about American women and furnishing me with the strange news that I had been outcastcd! As if I had any caste to lose, being a Sannyasin! !

“Not only no caste has been lost, but it has considerably shattered the opposition to sca-voyagc. my going to the West. If I should have to be outcasted, I would have to be done so with half the ruling princes of India and almost all of educated India. On the other hand, the leading Raja of the caste, to which I belonged before my entering the Order, publicly got up a banquet in my honour, at which were most of the big bugs of that caste. The Sannyasins, on the other hand, may not dine with any one in India as beneath the dignity of Gods to dine with mere mortals, as they are Narayanas, while the others are mere men. And dear Mary, these feet have been washed and wiped and worshipped by the descendants of a hundred kings, and there lias been a progress through the country which none ever commanded in India.

“It will suffice to say that the police were necessary to keep order if I ventured out into the streets! That is outcasting indeed! ! Of course, that took the starch out of the Missoos,1 and who are they here?—Nobodies. We are in blissful ignorance of their existence all the time. I had in a lecture said something about the Missoos and the origin of that species, except the English Churchmen, and in that connection I had to refer to the very churchy women of America and their power of inventing scandals. This the Missoos are parading as an attack on American women en masse to undo my work

1 Missoos Swamiji uses in the sense of missionaries.

there, as they well know that anything said against themselves will rather please the U. S. public. My dear Mary, supposing I had said all sorts of fearful things against the ‘Yanks’, would that be paying off a millionth part of what they say of our mothers and sisters ? ‘Neptune’s waters’ would be perfectly useless to wash off the hatred the Christian Yanks* of both sexes bear to us, heathens of India’ ; and what harm have we done them? Let the ‘Yanks’ learn to be patient under criticism and then criticise others. It is a well-known psychological fact that those who are ever ready to abuse others cannot bear the slightest touch of criticism themselves. Then again, what do I owe them? Except your family, Mrs. Bagley, the Leggetts and a few other kind persons, who else has been kind to me? Who came forward to help me work out my ideas? I had to work till I am at death’s door and had to spend nearly the whole of my best energies in America, so that they might learn to be broader and more spiritual! In England I worked only six months. There was not a breath of scandal save one, and that was the working of an American woman, which greatly relieved my English friends ; not only no attacks, but many of the best English Church clergymen became my firm friends, and without asking, I got much help for my work and I am sure to get much more. There is a society watching my work and getting help for it, and four highly respected persons followed me to India to help my work, braving everything, and dozens were ready, and the next time I go, hundreds will be!

Dear, dear Mary’, do not be afraid for me. . . . The world is big, very big, and there must be some place for me, even if the ‘Yankees rage’. Anyhow, I am quite satisfied with my work. I never planned anything. I have taken tilings as they came. Only one idea was burning in ray brain—to start the machine for elevating the Indian masses, and that I have succeeded in doing to a certain extent. It would have made your heart glad to see how my boys are working in the midst of famine and disease and misery, nursing by the mat-bed of the cholera-stricken Pariah and feeding the starving Chandala, and the Lord sends help to me, and to them all. ‘What are men?’ He is with me, the Beloved, as He was when I was in America, in England, when I was roaming about unknown from place to place in India. What do I care about what they talk—the babies—they do not know any better. What! I, who have realised the Spirit and the vanity of all earthly nonsense, to be swerved from my path by babies’ prattle! Do I look like that?

“I had to talk a lot about myself because I owed that to you. I feel my task is done—at best, three or four years more of life is left. I have lost all wish for my salvation. I never wanted earthly enjoyments. I must see my machine in strong working order, and then knowing for certain that I have put in a lever for the good of humanity, in India at least, which no power can drive back, I will sleep without caring what will be next. And may I be born again and again and suffer thousands of miseries, so that I may worship the only God that exists, the only God I believe in, the sum total of all souls—and above all, my God the wicked, my God the miserable, my God the poor of all races, of all species, is the especial object of my worship.

” ‘He Who is the high and the low, the saint and the sinner, the God and the worm, Him worship, the visible, the knowable, the real, the omnipresent; break all other idols!’ ‘In Whom there is neither past life nor future birth, nor death, nor going, nor coming, in Whom we always have been and always will be one. Him worship; break all other idols!’

“My time is short. I have got to unbreast whatever I have to say, without caring if it smarts some or initates others. Therefore, my dear Mary, do not be frightened at whatever drops from my lips, for the Power behind me is not Vivekananda but He. the Lord, and He knows best. If I have to please the world. that will be injuring the world ; the voice of the majority is wrong, seeing that they govern and make the sad state of the world. Every new thought must create opposition, in the civilised a polite sneer, in the savage vulgar howls and filthy scandals.

“Even these earth-worms must stand up erect. Even children must see light …. A hundred waves of prosperity have come and gone over my country. Wc have learnt the lesson which no child can yet understand. It is vanity, this hideous world of Mava. ‘Renounce’ and be happy. Give up the ideas of sex and possessions. There is no other bond. Marriage and sex and money are the only living devils. All earthly love proceeds from the body, body, body. No sex, no possessions ; as these fall off, the eyes open to spiritual vision. The soul regains its own infinite power. . . .”

In connection with this matter and as a further explanation of the Swami’s attitude towards American women en masse, no better evidence of his esteem for them can be, adduced than an excerpt from a private letter he wrote in 1894 to the Raja of Khetri:

“ ‘It is not the building that makes the Home, but it is the wife that makes it,’ says a Sanskrit poet, and how true it is! The roof that affords you shelter from heat and cold and rain is not to be judged by the pillars that support it, the finest Corinthian columns though they be, but by the real spirit-pillar who is the centre—the real support of the home—the woman. Judged by that standard, the American home will not suffer in comparison with any home in the world.

“I have heard many stories about the American home; of liberty running into licence, of unwomanly women, smashing under their feet all the peace and happiness of the home life in their mad liberty-dance, and much nonsense of that type. And now after a year’s experience of the American homes, of American women, how utterly false and erroneous that not be sufficient to pay my deep debt of gratitude to you! I have not words enough to express my gratitude to you. The Oriental hyperbole alone expresses the depth of Oriental gratitude:    ‘If the Indian Ocean were an inkstand, the highest mountain of the Himalayas the pen, the earth the scroll, and time itself the writer, still it will not express any gratitude to you! ’

“Last year I came to this country in summer, a wandering preacher of a far distant country, without name, fame, wealth or learning to recommend me—friendless, helpless, almost in a state of destitution—and American women befriended me, gave me shelter and food, took me to their homes and treated me as their own son, their own brother. They remained my friends even when their own priests were trying to persuade them to give up the ‘dangerous Heathen’, even when day after day their best friends had told them not to stand by this ‘unknown foreigner who may be of dangerous character’. But they are better judges of character and soul, they, the noble-minded, the unselfish, the pure ; for it is the pure mirror which catches the reflection.

“And how many beautiful homes I have seen, how many mothers whose purity of character, whose unselfish love for their children are beyond expression, how many daughters and maidens ‘pure as the icicle on Diana’s temple’ and withal with much culture, education and spirituality in the highest sense! Is America then full of only wingless angels in the shape of women? There is good and bad everywhere, true ; but a nation is not to be judged by its weaklings called the wicked, as they are only the weeds which lag behind, but by the good, the noble and the pure, who indicate the national life current flowing clear and vigorous.

“Do you judge of an apple tree and the taste of its fruits by the unripe, undeveloped, worm-eaten ones that strew the grounds, large even though their number be sometimes? If there is one ripe, developed apple, that one would indicate the powers, the possibility and the purpose of the apple tree, and not the hundreds that could not grow.

“And then the modem American women—I admire their broad and liberal minds. I have seen many liberal and broadminded men too in this country, some even in the narrowest churches ; but here is the difference— there is danger with the men to become broad at the cost of religion, at the cost of spirituality—women broaden out in sympathy with everything that is good everywhere without losing a bit of their own religion. They intuitively know that it is a question of positivity and not negativity, a question of addition and not subtraction. They are every day becoming aware of the fact that it is the affirmative and positive side of everything that shall be stored up, and that this very act of accumulating the affirmative and positive, and therefore soul-building forces of nature, is what destroys the negative and destructive dements in the world, . .

One could continue quoting many passages, descriptive of the Swami’s high appreciation of and even esteem for American womanhood. The one quoted, however, gives the spirit which is the keynote to all of them. Though the biographers of the Swami might have overlooked the mention of all these unpleasant controversies and criticism which were of trifling concern to the Swami himself, these had to be considered, in justice to him, as they created a stir at the time amongst his admirers and sympathisers.

Turning now from these distracting thoughts, one finds the Swami supremely happy at the sight of one of his Gurubhais relieving hundreds of the starving and the diseased in the famine-stricken district of Murshidabad in Bengal. Out on his wanderings, Swami Akliandananda was deeply moved at seeing the wide-spread distress in the villages and. though penniless, he at once decided to do what little he could to ameliorate it. On hearing of this, Swami Vivekananda sent two of his disciples, Swami Nityananda and Brahmachari Sureshwarananda, to help in the work, and started a fund at once, to which contributions poured in chiefly from Calcutta, Varanasi and Madras, and from the Mahabodhi Society. Swami Akhandananda managed the matter so well that the District Magistrate of Murshidabad who controlled the Government Relief Fund remarked, “I have been able to relieve myself of all responsibilities with regard to the villages covered by the Swami/’

Swami Vivekananda was also delighted to learn, at this time, of the success of the meetings of the Ramakrishna Mission at Calcutta, and of the Vedanta work that Swami Ramakrishna-nanda was carrying on with his characteristic zeal in Madras and its neighbourhood. Arrived there at the end of March, he had made himself popular by his exemplary character and his activities, and had delivered a series of lectures on the lives of the Prophets, besides other lectures on the Vedanta philosophy and classes on the Gita and the Upanishads.

When Swami Vivekananda’s visit was drawing to a close, his friends in Almora began talking about a lecture. The English residents in the station expressed a wish to hear him, and invited him to give an address at the English Club. Arrangements were therefore made for two lectures in the Zilla School, and one in the Club. There had been a wish expressed by many persons that one of the lectures should be in Hindi. Though unacquainted with the Hindi language the Swami acquitted himself well in the lecture and drew admiration from his hearers for the masterly way in which he treated the subject-matter. The lecture at the English Club was attended by all the English residents in the station. Col. Pulley of the Goorkhas was in the Chair. A short historical sketch of the rise of the worship of the tribal God, its spread through the conquest of other tribes, was followed by an account of the Vedas. Their nature, character and teaching were briefly touched upon. Then the Swami spoke about the soul, comparing the Western method, which seeks for the solution of vital and religious mysteries in the outside world, with the Eastern method, which finding no answer in nature outside, turns its enquiry within. Passing from this theme, naturally so dear to the heart of a Hindu, the Swami reached the climax of his power as a spiritual teacher when he described the relation of the soul to God, its aspiration and real unity with God. “For some time/’ writes an eyewitness, “it seemed as though the Teacher, his words, his audience, and the spirit pervading them all, were one. No longer was there any consciousness of T and ‘Thou*, of ‘This’ or ‘That*. The different units collected there, were for the time being lost and merged in the spiritual radiance which emanated so powerfully from the great Teacher, and held them all, more than spellbound.”

The Swami now regained to some extent his lost health, for a complete recovery it was not. But health or no health, his mission in India and the delivery of his message to her people necessitated constant work, and we next see him whirling to and fro from one province to another, teaching privately, preaching publicly, completing his work, for he felt it was nearing completion, in so far as his physical personality was concerned.

After a stay of two months and a half in Almora, the Swami, desiring to accept pressing invitations to visit various places in the Punjab and Kashmir, came down to the plains. He reached Bareilly on August 9. The Reception Committee composed of the distinguished residents of the city cordially welcomed him and took him and his party to their club-house, where arrangements had been made for their stay. He had hardly arrived when he was attacked with fever. He remained in Bareilly four days, and though ill all the time, gave much time to religious discourse. On the morning of the tenth he visited the Arya Samaj Orphanage, and on the next day as the result of an impressive conversation with a gathering of students on the need of Students’ Society which might conjointly carry out his ideas of practical Vedanta and work for others, one was established then and there. The same day after the midday meal he told Swami Achyutananda that he would live only about five or six years more. It was a significant prophetic utterance, though not treated seriously at the time, in as much as he left his body five years later on July 4, 1902.

On the night of the twelfth he left for Ambala, where he stayed for a week. He was met at the station by a large number of people, amongst whom were Mr. and Mrs. Sevier who had been at Simla. During his sojourn he daily held religious talks at all hours of the day with many people of different creeds, including Mohammedan, Brahmo, Arya SamSjist and Hindu, on Shastric and other topics. On the evening of the sixteenth at the earnest request of a professor of the Lahore College, who wanted to have a record of the Swami’s voice, he delivered a short lecture into a phonograph. Though unwell, the next day, he delivered an impressive lecture lasting for an hour and a half before a select gathering of citizens, who applauded him enthusiastically. All through he injected into the minds of his hearers his plans for the improvement of the Motherland. He did not leave Ambala without visiting the Hindu-Mohammedan School, an institution which interested him, because it was a symbol of the spirit of unity between the two great communities in India. The Swami received many invitations from various places, but he was so weakened by the fever which he had contracted on his way down from Almora that lie was unable to accept any of them.

On the twentieth the Swarrii with his party including Mr. and Mrs. Sevier arrived at Amritsar where also he was received at the station with great honours ; but he stayed there for only four or five hours at the residence of Mr. Todor Mall, Barrister-at-Law, for his increasing ill-health made it imperative for him to retire to Dharamshala, a delightful hill-station near by, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier. There, with the exception of a few casual visitors, he stayed until the thirty-first, in comparative retirement. About that date he decided once more to return to the plains in order to spread his ideas. Coming back to Amritsar he stayed for two days, during which he had frequent discussions on various religious subjects with Rai Mulraj and other leading Arya Samajists. From there he went to Rawalpindi and though arrangement had been made for his sojourn there, he left, immediately for Murree, again in search of health and in company with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier and his party. While at this place, he was the guest of Mr. Hansraj, a well-known pleader. He was frequently invited to lecture publicly, but his persistent; ill-health prevented this. Several conversations were held, however, in which he gave out his now-celebrated ideas and plans of work in India.

His stay in Murree was short, for on September 6, he deemed it necessary for many reasons to go on a short visit to Kashmir. Mr. and Mrs. Sevier who had come to Murree with the intention of accompanying the Swami to Kashmir were compelled to remain behind, owing to Mr. Sevier having suddenly fallen ill. The day before the Swami’s departure, a letter reached him from Mr. Sevier with this news, and with eight hundred rupees in currency notes enclosed as the sum forwarded to him to meet the expenses of his journey. It was seven o’clock in the evening. He turned to a friend and said with an anxious look, “What shall I do with so much money, Jogesh? We are Fakirs; we are sure to spend it all if it be with us. Let me take only half the sum ; I think that ought to be sufficient for me and my Gurubhais and disciples travelling with me.” Saying this he went to see Mr. Sevier, though he was not well at the time, and persuaded him to take back half the money offered.

Leaving Murree, he and his party reached Baramulla by Tonga, on the eighth, whence he started at once for Srinagar by boat. At this place he arrived on the tenth as the guest of Mr. Justice Rishibar Mukhopadhyaya. Here the Swami was literally besieged by visitors. On the third day after his arrival he paid an informal visit to the Palace of the Maharaja, where he was received with marked distinction by two of the higher officials, one of whom, Dr. Mitra, informed him that on the next day Raja Rama Singh, the brother of the ruling Prince, would be pleased to see him. The Swami did not meet the Maharaja as he was then at Jammu.

The Raja received the Swami with great cordiality and honour making him take his seat on a chair, while he himself sat with the officials on the floor. The interview lasted for two hours, many subjects concerning religion and the rehabilitation of the masses being touched upon. The Raja was deeply impressed, and expressed an earnest desire to help the Swami in earning out his plans of work.

Until his return to Murree, early in the first week of October, the Swami was busy filling many engagements, of both private and public character, and visiting the places of historic interest with which Kashmir abounds. Sddhus, Pandits, Vidyarthis, officials of high rank and scores of citizens visited him at the house of his host. Whenever he could be free, he retired to the house-boat which the Wazir of Raja Amar Singh had placed at his disposal. The Wazir himself became an ardent admirer of the Swami. He was often invited by the nobility of the town to dine at their houses, and on one of these occasions he discoursed with many Brahmins and Pandits assembled there. The Swami also made frequent excursions by boat to near-by places, or visited the Bazars, or listened to singing and instrumental music. On September 20, he went by house-boat to Pampur, and Anantnag, where he saw the historic temple of Vijbera, and then made his way afoot to Martanda, at which place he stayed at the rest-house for pilgrims, and discoursed learnedly to a large gathering of priests. Thence he set out for Acchabal. On the way he was shown a temple, which legend relates to the Pandava times. He was most enthusiastic in his admiration of the exquisite workmanship on this edifice, and stated that it was more than two thousand years old.

Slowly the Swami wended his way back from this interesting place, by boat from the Uhlar Lake, to Baramulla. The delightful climate and the free outdoor life had restored him, and he felt some of his old vigour and power.

Returning to Murrce he was hailed with rejoicings by the Bengali and the Punjabi residents and by Mr. and Mrs. Sevier. Here the Swami was alternately the guest of the latter, and of Nibaran Babu, at whose house he received numerous visitors and held many conversations. On the evening of October 14, an address of welcome was presented to him in a meeting on behalf of the Bengali and the Punjabi residents of Murree. The Swami in reply gave a talk which delighted the audience immensely. The following day he went to Rawalpindi and was cordially welcomed by his host, Mr. Hansraj.

He had been there scarcely two days when he lectured to a considerable audience in the beautiful garden of Mr. Sujan Singh, who was the President of the meeting. For two hours the Swami discoursed lucidly on Hinduism, supporting his arguments with quotations from the Vedas. An English disciple who was present says, “Swamiji, with a wreath of flowers on his head and a garland round his neck sometimes strolling in the course of his lecture, as was his wont, and sometimes leaning against a pillar also decorated with foliage wreaths and flowers, looked in his flowing saffron-coloured robe and sash like a Greek god. Moreover, as a background to this, the audience mostly sitting on the lawn, turbaned and cross-legged, with the sun setting in the distance, made altogether a wondrously picturesque scene.”

One catches a glimpse of the intense activity of the Swami at this time, or indeed during most of the time that he was before the public, through an entry in the diary of a devoted companion, which reads:

17th October. In the morning, Swamiji talked on religious subjects with the visitors at Mr. Hansraj’s house. Then he went to the Cantonment to keep an invitation to dinner at Nirnai Baba’s house, where he talked on religious subjects with the Bengali gentlemen assembled there. He returned from there at about 10 p.m. After a short rest, he went to Mr. Sujan Singh’s garden to deliver a lecture on Hinduism …. Returning from there he instructed a gentleman in the secret of performing Sadhanas. At night he went to supper at Mr. Bhaktaram’s house in the company of Mr. Justice Narayandas, Swami Prakashananda, Mr. Hansraj and others. From there he returned home at 10 p.m., and talked with some of his disciples on matters religious, until three o’clock in the morning.”

On the night of October 20, he was off again, this time to Jammu in the Jammu State of the Maharaja of Kashmir, in response to an invitation from the Maharaja. He was met officially at the station and informed that he was a guest of the State. The Maharaja’s library’ was visited in the evening, and on the day following, the Swami had a long talk with Babu Mahesh Chandra Bhattacharya, an officer of the Kashmir State, with reference to the establishment of a monastery somewhere in Kashmir.

On the twenty third he had a long interview with the Maharaja. There were present the two brothers of the Maharaja and principal officers of the State. In the course of the conversation he stressed the foolishness of adhering to meaningless customs and outward observances, and traced the national servility of the last seven hundred years, to the misconception of true religious ideals and to the blind following of all sorts of superstitions. He said, “By committing that which is real sin, such as adultery etc., one is not outcastcd in these days ; now all sin, all offence to society, relates to food only!” The Swami then defended his sea-voyage with his usual vigour and pointed out that without travelling in foreign countries real education was not gained. Finally he dwelt upon the significance of preaching Vedanta in Europe and America and upon his own mission and plan of work in India. He concluded saying,”I deem it a great good fortune, if by doing good to my country I have to go to hell!” The Maharaja and others were highly pleased with the interview, which lasted for nearly four hours.

Later in the day he paid a visit to the junior Raja who received him with equal reverence. On the next, day, he delivered a public lecture, which pleased the Maharaja so much, that he asked the Swami to deliver another lecture the next day, and further expressed the desire that he might remain at least ten or twelve days longer and address meetings every other day. On the twenty-fifth the Swami inspected the municipal powerhouse, held discussions on religious subjects and talked about the Arya Samaj ; in these talks he pointed out its shortcomings to Swami Achyutananda in a friendly spirit, and deplored the backwardness of the Punjabis in knowledge. In the afternoon, according to the wish of the Maharaja, he lectured to a large audience for two hours dealing with all the Shastras from the Vedas to the Puranas. He then paid a visit to the library and saw the illumination of the city on the occasion of the Dewali festival. The next three days were devoted mostly to the reception of visitors, and in talks with them he gave out many important ideas on the profound truths relating to religion and social ethics. During this tour the Swami spoke and lectured mostly in Hindi. The power and life that he put into the Hindi language was so unique that the Maharaja of Kashmir requested him to write a few papers in that language, which he did and they were greatly appreciated.

On October 29, the Swami paid a final visit to the Maharaja and informed him of his proposed departure for Sialkote as a deputation from that place had come with a pressing invitation. The Prince parted from the Swami with much regret, requesting him, that whensoever he visited Jammu or Kashmir he must be his guest.

Taking up the thread of the Swami’s history from this time until he left Lahore for Dehra-Dun, Mr. J. J. Goodwin, who had accompanied the Swami on his Jammu trip, writes as follows:

‘‘Although by no means restored to health, the Swami Vivekananda is in active work again, this time in the North-West. After a visit of some weeks to Kashmir, where his views secured the favourable consideration of H. H. the Maharaja, and assurances of his support in the event of practical work being undertaken in the State, the Swami paid a short visit to Jammu, lecturing there in Hindi to a most, appreciative audience. From Jammu he went to Sialkote (Punjab) as the guest of Lala Mool Chand, M.A., LL.B., and two lectures were arranged for him, one in English, and one in Hindi. One theme was common to all these lectures, as to all which have since followed, that religion must be practical to be religion at all. The Swami seems daily to be becoming more emphatic on this point, and is enforcing his views by starting works of various kinds which seem to suit the needs of the places he visits and the characteristics of their people. Thus, at Sialkote, he strongly urged the establishment of an educational institution for girls, and as the result of his two days’ visit a committee was formed consisting of most of the influential men of the town, with Lala Mool Chand as Secretary, to at once give the proposal practical effect.

“Lahore was next visited, and the Swami was received at the station by a large crowd, including many of the members of the Sanatana Dharma Samfij in whose hands the reception was left. He was driven through the picturesque streets of the city to Raja Dhyftn Singh’s palace, and afterwards put up with Babu N. N. Gupta, the editor of the Tribune of Lahore. On Friday evening, lie lectured in the large courtyard of the old palace on ‘The Problem Before Us’. The numbers present were large and the space available was altogether too small to accommodate all who came to hear, and the necessity for disappointing many, at one time threatened to prevent the holding of the meeting at all. After at least two thousand had been refused admission, there still remained fully four thousand, who listened to an excellent discourse. On the following Tuesday, another large crowd gathered iri the Pandal of Prof. Bose’s Bengal Circus, to hear the Swami’s lecture on Bhakti.

“The third lecture, on the following Friday evening, was a triumphant success. The arrangements, this time entirely made by students of the four Lahore Colleges, were exceedingly good, and the audience, without being inconveniently large, was in every sense representative. The subject for the evening was VedSnta, and the Swami for over two hours gave, even for him. a masterly exposition of the monistic philosophy and religion of India. The manner in which, at the outset, he traced the psychological and cosmological ideas on which religion in India is founded, was marvellously clear, and his insistence that Advaita is alone able to meet the attacks not only of science but also of Buddhism and agnosticism against religious and transcendental ideas, was conveyed in definite language and was full of convincing power. From beginning to end the lecture preached strength—belief in man in order that belief in God might follow—and every word of perhaps the finest lecture the Swami has given in India was itself full of strength …. The lecture created great enthusiasm and the Swami found it in no way difficult to induce a number of students, who were his constant attendants while in Lahore, to take steps to put it into practice. In fact, he held a meeting for students, at which, after hearing his suggestions, an association was formed, purely non sectarian in character, the work of which, as it gradually unfolded, should be to help the poor- and where possible by searching them out in every district of the town—to nurse the sick poor, and to give night education to the ignorant poor.

“Two days later, the Swami left for Delira-Dun, on business . . .

His non-sectarianism was especially evident in Lahore, for though he was pressed by a certain community of the orthodox Hindus to preach openly against the Arya Samajists, he would not lend himself to their wishes. He did consent, however, at their request, to deliver a lecture on the Shraddha ceremony, in which the Arya Samajists disbelieve, but in doing so he in nowise attacked them. The lecture was not a public one, but took the form of a conversazione at which were present some of the leading members of both the rival parties. He eloquently discussed on the necessity and uses of the Hindu rite of Shraddha, and defended it in a dignified manner against the attacks made by some Arya Samajists who came forward to argue with him. In tracing the origin of that time-honoured institution, the Swami said that spirit-worship was the beginning of Hindu religion. At first the Hindus used to invoke the spirits of their departed ancestors in some man, and then worship and offer him food. By and by it was found that the men who acted as mediums for these disembodied spirits suffered very much physically afterwards. So they gave up the practice and substituted instead an effigy of grass (Kushaputtali), and invoking the departed spirits of their ancestors in it offered to it worship and Pindas (balls of rice). The Vedic invocation of the Devas for worship and sacrifice, he pointed out, was a development of this spirit-worship.

Be that as it may, the Swami’s mission in the Punjab was, pre-eminently, to establish harmony and peace in place of discord and rivalry among the parties holding divergent views: the Arya Samajists who stood for reinterpreted Hinduism, and the Sanatanists who represented the orthodox Hindu community. That he succeeded in bringing this about for the time being at least is evidenced by the fact that the former vied with the latter in showing their regard for him and flocked in numbers to listen to his words. Indeed, so generous was his own attitude towards the Arya Samajists and so respectful their feeling for him, that for some days there was a persistent rumour to the effect that several of the leading Arya Samajists desired that the Swami should be requested to become the head of the Samaj itself. He even propounded a method for rooting out the antagonism between the Arya Samajists and the Mohammedans.

In one of the conversations the Swami deplored the lack of emotion in the Punjabis, remarking that the land of the five rivers was rather a dry place spiritually, and that the minds of the people should be made responsive to the softer elements of religion by the culture of Bhakti. He thought that the introduction of the system of Shri Chaitanya’s Sankirlana, as it is in vogue among the Vaishnavas of Bengal, would be a desirable thing. A proposal was made by some of the Punjabi gentlemen, that there should be a public Sankirtana procession, but the idea had to be given up ultimately on account of some unavoidable events.

It was in Lahore that the Swami met Mr. Tirtha Ram Goswami, then a professor in mathematics at one of the Lahore Colleges. Some time later, this gentleman took Sannyasa and became widely known as Swami Ram Tirtha. He also preached Vedanta both in India and America and gained a considerable following. It was under his guidance that the college students of Lahore did much in helping to arrange for the public lectures which the Swami gave there. Personally he admired the Swami immensely and invited him and his disciples including Mr. Goodwin, to dine at his residence. After dinner the Swami sang a song which begins with: “Jahan Ram wuhan kam nahin, jahan kam, nahin Ram,” which translated reads: “Where God-consciousness is, there is no desire ; where desire is, there is no God-consciousness.” Tirtha Ram himself writes: “His melodious voice made the meaning of the song thrill through the hearts of those present.” His host placed his private library at the disposal of the Swami, but of the numerous volumes, the latter chose only Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, whom he was accustomed to call “The Sannyasin of America”.

One evening Tirtha Ram, accompanied by the Swami, his Gurubhais and a number of young men was walking along a public highway. The party broke into several groups. “In the last group,” according to Swami Ram Tirtha’s own words, in a letter written later from Darjeeling, “in answer to a question I was explaining: ‘An ideal Mahatma is one who has lost all sense of separate personality and lives as the Self of all. When the air in any region absorbs enough of the solar heat, it becomes rarefied and rises higher. The air from different regions then rushes in to occupy this vacuum, thus setting the whole atmosphere in motion. So does a Mahatma marvellously infuse life and spirit into a nation through self-reform/ The Swami’s group happening to be silent at the time, he overheard this part of our conversation and stopped suddenly and emphatically remarked, ‘Such was my Guru, Paramahamsa Rama* krishna Deva.’ ”

The relationship between the Swami and Tirtha Ram was most cordial, and before the Swami left, the latter presented him with a gold watch. The Swami took it very kindly, but put it back in Tirtha Ram’s pocket saying, “Very well, friend, I shall wear it here in this pocket.”

A touching incident occurred at Lahore, when Motilal Bose, an old neighbour and playmate of the Swami, the owner of Professor Bose’s Circus, came to meet him. He was awe-struck at the reverence which hundreds were paying to him. Feeling a little embarrassed, he approached the Swami with the question, “How shall I address you now, as Naren or as Swamiji?” The Swami replied, “Have you gone mad, Moti? Don’t you know I am the same Naren, and you are the same Moti?” Indeed, everyone of his old comrades and class-mates, who met him in the days of his glory, after his return from the West, noticed not the slightest change in his ways and behaviour. To quote one instance among many, when Upendra Babu, another classmate of his, to whom he had prophesied his own future greatness when studying in the Presidency College of Calcutta, came to meet him at Balaram Babu’s house, the Swami seeing him enter the room stood up and with outstretched arms embraced him warmly.

It was the state of the Swami’s health which was largely responsible for his leaving Lahore, after ten days of strenuous work, for Dehra-Dun. The return to the heat of the plains had caused a relapse of the illness which had taken him to the Himalayas, and he was in consequence forced to postpone his lecture-tour. At Dehra-Dun he led a quiet life for some ten days, but he was never idle. Gathering his disciples about him he would hold a class on Rfimanuja’s commentary on the Rrahma-Sutras. This class was continued all the rest of his trip. Even on the way to Khetri, after they had rested from the journey and had had their bath and meal, he would call them and begin the class. He also held classes on the Sankhya philosophy and appointed Swami Achvutananda to teach it in his presence. Sometimes when Swami Achyutananda, who was a very learned Sanskrit scholar, could not make out the meaning of a text, the Swami would in a few words explain it very clearly. He was interested at Dehra-Dun, as he was also in Kashmir and in Dharamshala, in the purchase of a tract of land for an institution for the training of Brahmacliarins.

While he was at Dehra-Dun he received constant invitations from Khetri. The Raja of that State was exceedingly eager to give his subjects an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the wSwami’s ideas. Besides, personally, he wished to see the Swami, his Guru. So the Swami started from Dehra-Dun for Rajputana. On the way he visited Delhi, Alwar, and Jaipur. At Delhi he was the guest of Nata Krishna, a man in humble position, whom he had met in his Parivrajaka days at Hathras. Wealthy residents of Delhi pressed him to become their guest, but he preferred remaining with his old friend. At Delhi he held a long conversazione at which many distinguished persons were present.

Together with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier and his Gurubhiis and disciples, he visited all the memorable ruins and monuments of the past glories of the Mogul Emperors, which are scattered all round Delhi within a radius of a few miles. Says one who accompanied him: “He vivified the past before us. Indeed, we forgot the present in the past and lived with dead Emperors and mighty Kings of old.”

The Swami then went to Alwar where he was accorded a great reception. During his sojourn there, he was lodged with his disciples in one of the residences belonging to the Maharaja, which had been secured by the Swami *s followers in Alwar for the purpose. He had several interviews with the principal officials, the Maharaja being at the time unavoidably absent from the State. But the chief attraction of his visit lay in meeting once again his intimate friends and disciples with whom he had passed many a day of his Parivrajaka life. His present visit was full of touching episodes which revealed the true Sannyasin he was. For instance, at the railway station, when the reception ceremony was going on and he was surrounded by prominent men, he espied one of his poor but devoted disciples, dressed in humble garb standing at a distance. The Swami without caring for the formalities of reception or for etiquette called aloud, “Ramasnehi! Ramasnehi!”—for that was the name of the man—and having had him brought before him through the crowd of the notables enquired about his welfare and that of his other friends, and talked with him freely as of old. This instance brings to mind a similar occurrence in Madras. During the procession, the Swami, while seated in his carriage of honour, saw Swami Sadananda standing amidst the huge mass that crowded the streets. He at once shouted out: “Come Sadananda I Come, my boy! ” And he made this disciple sit with him in the same carriage.

Among the invitations to dinner that he accepted during his short stay in Alwar was one from an old woman, who had entertained the Swami to Bhikshi at her house on his former visit. But in her case, the Swami invited himself sending word to her that he longed for some of the thick Chapatis (unleavened bread) he had had from her hands years ago! Her heart was filled with joy and when she was serving her guests she said to the Swami, “Poor as I am, where shall I get delicacies to give you, my son, howsoever I may wish! ” The Swami relished this simple meal saying to his disciples more than once, “Look here! How devout, how motherly this old woman is! How Sattvic are these thick Chapatis made by herself! ” The Swami knowing her poverty, unknown to her, thrust into the hand of the guardian of the house a hundred-rupee note.

In reporting the Swami’s visit to Khctri, Swami Sadananda writes as follows to the Brahmavddin on December 12:

”. . . . His Highness the Raja of KheLri ordered all the necessary and convenient arrangements on the way from Khctri to Jaipur, and himself drove a distance of twelve miles to receive the Swami. The whole town of Khetri was filled with joy and enthusiasm. The citizens arranged for a grand dinner and brilliant illumination and fireworks in honour of His Highness’ successful return from his travels in England and on the Continent, as well as for the advent of Swamiji, whose arrival on such an occasion was looked upon as a Godsend, and doubled the enthusiasm in the hearts of the whole public. His Highness and the Swami were presented with addresses to which were given suitable replies. . . .

“On December 11, there was an assemblage in the school premises where both the Raja and the Swami were given numerous addresses from different committees. The Ramakrishna Mission, Calcutta, the Education Department, Khetri, and the local Young Men’s Debating Club, were among those who presented addresses to the Raja. Then many short poems, some of them especially composed in honour of the Raja, were recited by the young boys of the school. Swramiji distributed the Prizes to the meritorious students at the request of the President, the Raja. The Raja made a brief reply to the addresses presented to him, thanking especially the Raina-krishna Mission, for the Chief of the Mission w’as present there …. Afterwards, Swamiji delivered a brief speech with his usual fluency, in which he thanked the Raja and spoke of him highly, saying that what little he had done for the improvement of India was done through the Raja’s instrumentality.”

At the reception, his subjects presented the Maharaja, as is customary on such occasions, with five trays full of gold Mohurs, the greater part of which he donated to educational institutions in his state. Then all the officials and subjects present came before the Swami, one by one, in turn, bowed and presented him with two rupees each. This function lasted for three thousand rupees which was sent to the Math in charge of Swamis Sadananda and Sachchidananda (senior).

On December 20, the Swami delivered a lecture on “Vedantism” in the hall of the Maharaja’s bungalow in which he lodged with his disciples. The audience consisted of the principal gentlemen of the place. Some European ladies and gentlemen were also present. The Swami spoke for more than an hour and a half about ancient civilisations—the Greek and the Aryan. He than traced the influence of Indian thought on Europe, in Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato and the Egyptian neo-Platonists, and showed how it even entered Spain, Germany and other European countries at different periods of history down to our own times. He discussed the Vedas and the Vedic mythology and explained the different ideas and stages of worship found therein, in the course of which he pointed out that behind them all stood as the background the idea, “Ekam Sad Vipra Bahudha Vadanti”—’‘That which exists is One, sages call It variously.” Continuing he said that, unlike the Greeks, the Aryans, dissatisfied with external nature, had gone into the Inner Self and solved the problem of life by Self-realisation. The Swami then passed on to the consideration of the Dualistic, Qualified-monistic, and Advaitic theories, and reconciled them by saying that they were but steps leading to the final evolution of Advaitism, the last step being “Tat Tvam Asi”—”Thou art That.” He deplored the system of text-torturing, of which even the greatest commentators were guilty. Ramanuja had distorted the Advaita texts of the Upanishads, while Shankara had done the same with the Dvaita texts. Proceeding further, the Swami regretted that in modem India, “The people are neither Hindus, nor Vedantins, they are merely ‘don’t-touchists’ ; the kitchen is their temple, and cooking-pots their object of worship. This state of things must go. The sooner it is given up, the better for our religion. Let the Upanishads shine in their glory, and at the same time let not quarrels exist among the different sects.”

The Swami had to rest in the middle of his speech, so exhausted was he ; the audience waited patiently until he was  able to resume. He spoke for another half hour, and explained that knowledge was the finding of unity in diversity, and that the highest point in every science was reached when it found the one unity underlying all variety, and this was as true in physical science as in the spiritual. The Swami closed his address with a tribute to the noble character of the Maharaja who, as a true Kshatriya, had assisted him so materially in spreading the Eternal Truths of Hinduism in the West. The lecture made a lasting impression on the people of Khetri.

To the Swami, at Khetri, work was both pleasure and rest. Besides lecturing and attending to public functions in his honour he spent the time in riding and sight-seeing with his companions and his royal disciple. A curious incident happened here. When the Maharaja and the Swami were out riding one day, they passed a narrow pathway with overhanging branches of trees and prickly shrubs. The Maharaja just held a branch of one of the shrubs to make way for the Swami. But the Swami did not like his being helped in this way, as he thought it was rather deprecatory of his manhood, and remarked to this effect to the Maharaja. But the Maharaja gave the significant reply, “Well, Swamiji, it has been the duty of Kshatriyas to protect Dharma always,” to which the Swami remarked after a short period of silence, “Perhaps you are right.”

Next the Swami is seen passing rapidly through Kishen-garh, Ajmere, Jodhpur and Indore on his Way to Khandwa. At Jodhpur he was the guest of the Prime Minister, Raja Sir Pratap Singh, for about ten days. When he arrived at Khandwa in Indore, as the guest of Babu Haridas Chatterjee, he had high fever, but he soon got over it. After a stay of about a week he left Khandwa for Calcutta. The night before he left, his host pressed him for initiation. He firmly held the Swami’s feet and implored him to give him Mantra. The Swami avoided, saying that he did not care to make Chelas and raise the standard of religious or social Gurudom. He, however, advised his host to remember the simple truth, so often repeated, that man can do what man has done. “Man’s constitution,” he said, “embodies divine omnipotence and this should be realised and set up as the model of all human action.”

The Swami must have had reasons of his own for not gratifying the earnest and pious desire of his kind host, for it is a fact that he had made disciples before and after, though not without making a thorough study of their personalities. As a true teacher he gave special instructions to different individuals according to their religious temperaments and tendencies. Thus to one he would speak of Bhakti, to another of Jnana, as the highest ideal, but insisted that everyone should stand on his own legs and rely on himself if he wanted to bring to fruition the highest possibilities of his nature.

The Swami had now almost finished his lecturing campaign in India, during which he outlined his plans to bring about a rehabilitation of the Dharma. He pointed out to the nation the points where they were in agreement and on which they could build their glorious future much more glorious than the past. He showed to them the value and significance of the culture they had inherited from their ancestors—a culture in comparison with which any other civilisation, past or present, pales into insignificance—till their hearts throbbed at the very name of India. He pointed out clearly that the Indian nationalism was to be based on the greatness of the past though various new things also had to be assimilated in the process of growth. If we have to be true to the genius of the race, if we have to appeal to the soul of the nation, we have to drink deep of the fountain of the past and then proceed to build the future. This heritage from the past, he pointed out, was essentially a religious heritage. The main current of life in India flowed in the field of religion and from this were supplied the demands of the nation iri all departments of life ; more than once religion had come to the rescue of the life secular. Religion had released in the past political forces when the old ones were found wanting. The fundamental problem in India therefore was to organise the whole country round the spiritual ideal. By religion he meant the eternal principles as taught by the Shrutis and not the superstitions and local customs, which are mere accretions showed that the nation depended upon the character and qualities of its individual members. On the strength of the individuals lay the strength of the whole nation. So each individual, he urged, if he desired the good of the nation as a whole, should try, whatever might be the walk of his life, to build character, acquire such virtues as courage, strength, self-respect, love and service for others. To the young men especially he held out renunciation and service as the highest ideals.

Having finished the lecturing tour the Swami returned to Calcutta, where other aspects of his mission kept him engaged —notably the training of his own disciples, the moulding of their characters so as to enable them to carry into practice his plans for the regeneration of the nation.