Saradakosh

10, 11 Sept 1893

Total Records Found: 28

Sisters and Brothers of America,

It fills my heart with joy unspeakable to rise in response to the warm and cordial welcome which you have given us. I thank you in the name of the most ancient order of monks in the world; I thank you in the name of the mother of religions; and I thank you in the name of millions and millions of Hindu people of all classes and sects.

The present convention, which is one of the most august assemblies ever held, is in itself a vindication, a declaration to the world of the wonderful doctrine preached in the Gita: "Whosoever comes to Me, through whatsoever form, I reach him; all men are struggling through paths which in the end lead to me." Sectarianism, bigotry, and its horrible descendant, fanaticism, have long possessed this beautiful earth. They have filled the earth with violence, drenched it often and often with human blood, destroyed civilisation and sent whole nations to despair. Had it not been for these horrible demons, human society would be far more advanced than it is now. But their time is come; and I fervently hope that the bell that tolled this morning in honour of this convention may be the death - knell of all fanaticism, of all persecutions with the sword or with the pen, and of all uncharitable feelings between persons wending their way to the same goal.

My thanks, also, to some of the speakers on this platform who, referring to the delegates from the Orient, have told you that these men from far-off nations may well claim the honour of bearing to different lands the idea of toleration. I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance. We believe not only in universal toleration, but we accept all religions as true. I am proud to belong to a nation which has sheltered the persecuted and the refugees of all religions and all nations of the earth. I am proud to tell you that we have gathered in our bosom the purest remnant of the Israelites, who came to Southern India and took refuge with us in the very year in which their holy temple was shattered to pieces by Roman tyranny. I am proud to belong to the religion which has sheltered and is still fostering the remnant of the grand Zoroastrian nation. I will quote to you, brethren, a few lines from a hymn which I remember to have repeated from my earliest boyhood, which is every day repeated by millions of human beings: "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 appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."

It fills my heart with joy unspeakable to rise in response to the grand words of welcome given to us by you. I thank you in the name of the most ancient order of monks the world has ever seen, of which Gautama was only a member. I thank you in the name of the Mother of religions, of which Buddhism and Jainism are but branches; and I thank you, finally, in the name of the millions and millions of Hindoo people of all castes and sects. My thanks also to some of the speakers on the platform who have told you that these different men from far - off nations will bear to the different lands the idea of toleration which they may see here. My thanks to them for this idea._x000d_ I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance. We believe not only in universal tolerance but we accept all religions to be true. I am proud to tell you that I belong to a religion in whose sacred language, the Sanskrit, the word exclusion is untranslatable. (Applause) I am proud to belong to a nation which has sheltered the persecuted and the refugees of all religions and all nations of the earth. I am proud to tell you that we have gathered in our bosom the purest remnant of the Israelites, a remnant of which came to southern India and took refuge with us in the very years in which their holy temple was shattered to pieces by Roman tyranny. I am proud to belong to the religion which has sheltered and is still fostering the remnant of the grand Zoroastrian nation. _x000d_ I will quote to you, brothers, a few lines from a hymn which every Hindoo child repeats every day. I feel that the very spirit of this hymn, which I remember to have repeated from my earliest boyhood, which is every day repeated by millions and millions of men in India, has at last come to be realized. "As the different streams, having their sources in different places, all mingle their water in the sea; O Lord, so the different paths which men take through different tendencies, various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."_x000d_ The present convention, which is one of the most august assemblies ever held, is in itself an indication, a declaration to the world of the wonderful doctrine preached in the Gita: "Whosoever comes to Me, through whatsoever form I reach him, all are struggling through paths that in the end always lead to Me." Sectarianism, bigotry and its horrible descendant fanaticism, have possessed long this beautiful earth. It has filled the earth with violence, drenched it often and often with human gore, destroyed civilization and sent whole nations into despair. But its time has come, and I fervently believe that the bell that tolled this morning in honor of the representatives of the different religions of the earth, in this parliament assembled, is the death - knell to all fanaticism (applause), that it is the death - knell to all persecution with the sword or the pen, and to all uncharitable feelings between brethren wending their way to the same goal, but through different ways.

The Congress of Religions was a triumph for all concerned, especially for its generalissimo, the Reverend John H. Barrows, of Chicago's First Presbyterian Church, who had been preparing it for two years. When he brought down his gavel upon the "world's first parliament of religions" a wave of breathless silence swept over the audience - it seemed a great moment in human history, prophetic of the promised new era of tolerance and peace. On the stage with him, at his left, was a black - coated array of bishops and ministers representing the various familiar Protestant sects and the Russian Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches; at his right a brilliant group of strangely costumed dignitaries from afar - a Confucian from China, a Jain from India, a theosophist from Allahabad, a white - robed Shinto priest and four Buddhists from Japan, and a monk of the orange robe from Bombay._x000d_ It was the last of these, Swami Vivekananda, the magnificent, who stole the whole show and captured the town. Others of the foreign groups spoke well - the Greek, the Russian, the Armenian, Mazoomdar of Calcutta, Dharmapala of Ceylon - leaning, some of these upon interpreters. Shibata, the Shintu, bowed his wired white headdress to the ground, spread his delicate hands in suave gestures, and uttered gravely with serene politeness his incomprehensible words. But the handsome monk in the orange robe gave us in perfect English a masterpiece. His personality, dominant, magnetic; his voice, rich as a bronze bell; the controlled fervor of his feeling; the beauty of his message to the Western world he was facing for the first time - these combined to give us a rare and perfect moment of supreme emotion. It was human eloquence at its highest pitch.

While it is gratifying to read descriptions from the pen of a poet, poets themselves are often beset with poetic melancholy at the evanescence of perfection. In this case it was a melancholy not justified. Miss Monroe goes on to muse:_x000d_ One cannot repeat a perfect moment-the futility of trying to has been almost a superstition with me. Thus I made no effort to hear Vivekananda speak again, during that autumn and winter when he was making converts by the score to his hope of uniting East and West in a world religion above the tumult of controversy.

Pageantry there was enough without a studied attempt at it. In another part of the building, President Bonney's office was turned into a reception room, where Chinese in their mandarin robes and pigtails, Japanese in picturesque garb of chaste colors and varicolored head-dresses, Indians in their gaudy gowns of red, orange, and green; Germans, Russians, and Scandinavians, natives of Britain, and her dependencies, and half a dozen interpreters mingled and mixed in a medley of universal brotherhood. The fair sex were there too, and they were not neglected. But sisterhood in such a gathering was superfluous. The air was full of brotherhood, and it was of the generic kind, such as fits both sexes.

At the appointed hour of ten, this dazzling group started out. Heading the long procession came President Bonney and Cardinal Gibbons, arm in arm, the Cardinal resplendent in his crimson robes, the President somber and dignified in his morning coat. Following these two were the President and Vice-President of the Board of Lady Managers of the Exposition, Mrs. Potter Palmer and Mrs. Charles H. Henrotin, in sweeping silk dresses with puffed sleeves and bustles. The procession slowly and majestically entered the back of the auditorium, the crowd making way for it. Then beneath the flags of many nations and amid wave upon wave of cheers it marched down the center aisle and ascended the platform.

"The sight," says Houghton, "was most remarkable. There were strange robes, turbans and tunics, crosses and crescents, flowing hair and tonsured heads." Cardinal Gibbons sat in the center of the group on the iron throne. On his right were the five Buddhist priests of China in their long white robes, and on his left, the black garbed patriarchs of the old Greek Church, "wearing strangely formed hats, somber cassocks of black, and leaning on ivory sticks carved with figures representing ancient rites."

The First Secretary of the Chinese Legation in Washington, who had been deputed by the Emperor of China to present the doctrine of Confucius, wore the robes of a mandarin. His pictures show him sitting bolt upright, squarely facing the audience with immense dignity and looking somewhat like a huge Chinese doll with a round and moonlike face.

To quote again from Houghton: "The high priest of the state religion of Japan was arrayed in flowing robes, presenting the colors of the rainbow.

Buddhist monks were attired in garments of white and yellow;

. . . the Greek Archbishop of Zante, from whose high headgear there fell to the waist a black veil, was brilliant in purple robe and black cassock, and glittering as to his breast in chains of gold.

Dharmapala [whose slight, lithe person was swathed in pure white, while his black hair fell in curls upon his shoulders] was recognized in his woolen garments;

and in black clothes hardly to be distin¬guished from European dress, was Mazoomdar, author of the `Oriental Christ.'

"The closing sentence of an eyewitness account by the Reverend Mr. Wente (from which the above bracketed words regarding Hewivitarne Dharmapala are taken) is worth quoting here to complete the picture: "The ebon- hued but bright faces of Bishop Arnett, of the African Methodist Church, and of a young African prince, were relieved by the handsome costumes of the ladies of the company, while forming a somber background to all was the dark raiment of the Protestant delegates and invited guests: ''

In the midst of this impressive array sat Swamiji, conspicuous, according to all accounts, for his "orange turban and robe," or, as better put by the Reverend Mr. Wente, for his "gorgeous red apparel, his bronze face surmounted with a turban of yellow."

This, then, was the scene on the platform. Facing it was the vast audience of men and women, filling every seat of the floor and gallery and comprising representative intellects of the day, both clerical and secular. "Such a scene," writes Houghton, "was never witnessed before in the world's history."

Indeed, that sea of faces might have given even a practised orator stage fright. To speak before such a distinguished, critical and highly intellectual gathering required intense self-confidence. The Swami had walked in the imposing procession of delegates, had seen the huge assembly, the keen, eager Faces of the audience, 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 wandering monk, the simple Indian sadhu, in common with this grand function and these high functionaries? As was shortly to be seen, he had much to do with them. His very person had attracted the attention of thousands. Among archbishops, bishops, priests and theologians, the people singled him out, by reason of both his apparel and his commanding presence. He himself was alternately rapt in silent prayer and stirred by the eloquence of the 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.

Through all this Swamiji remained seated, meditative and prayerful, letting his turn to speak go by time and again. It was not until the afternoon session, after four other delegates had read their prepared papers, that, urged by the kindly and scholarly French pastor G. Bonet Maury, who was seated next to him,* Swamiji, inwardly bowing down to Devi Sarasvati (the Goddess of Knowledge), arose to address the Congress and, through it, the world._x000d_ * This information comes from a letter written by Swami Siddheswarananda to Miss Josephine MacLeod, dated June 11, 1946. The relevant passage reads: “For a long time I have been in contact with a man of science (Paul-Bennet Maury)... The other day the old mother of Paul Bennet-Maury came to see me. She is about 80 years old and she told me that her father-in-law, a Protestant Pastor, was one of Page Symbol Note_x000d_ The delegates to the Chicago Parliament of Religions and a very close friend of Swamiji. In the dais of the Parliament Pastor Bennet-Maury [G. Bonet Maury] had his place next to Swamiji and she told me how she had heard from him that when Swamiji was each time giving his place to another to speak, it was Bennet-Maury, the pastor, that encouraged Swamiji to get up and speak in spite of the hesitation that Swamiji had. And as the old lady told me the story she got up from her seat and with trembling emotion told me of what she had heard of the tremendous impression produced by Swamiji when he addressed the audience as ‘Sisters and Brothers of America.’

Commenting on the reception accorded to the Swami's first appearance before the Parliament, the Rev. John Henry Barrows wrote in The World's Parliament of Religions, "When Mr. Vivekananda addressed the audience as `Sisters and Brothers of America', there arose a peal of applause that lasted for several minutes." Another eyewitness, Mrs. S. K. Blodgett, later recalled: "When that young man got up and said, `Sisters and Brothers of America,' seven thousand people rose to their feet as a tribute to something they knew not what. When it was over I saw scores of women walking over the benches to get near him, and I said to myself, `Well, my lad, if you can resist that onslaught you are indeed a God!"'

As has been seen, however, the crowds had not sat glum and silent until he spoke : they had cheered a few others vociferously. As far as spiritual perceptiveness was concerned, this audience was an average one, its spiritual yearnings moving invisibly, even to itself, beneath layers of material tradition. This was not India, where greatness has but one meaning-spiritual greatness-and where, when it is seen, it is understood.

The audience of the Parliament, as a whole, could not have known, as Mrs. Blodgett says, precisely why it cheered for Swamiji at his very first words. In other cases there had been obvious reasons: political or religious sympathy, previous knowledge of the speaker, or atonement for national sin. In Swamiji's case there was nothing like this, nor could the applause have been inspired by his words alone, for sentiments of universal brotherhood had been given voice throughout the whole morning and half the afternoon.

Was it not, rather, inspired by something unspoken that came through Swamiji's words? Bearing in mind that this was the first time he had addressed the great American public and that he himself was strongly moved by the occasion, one cannot but think that the deepest powers of his nature were fully active as he stood there on the platform and that the knowledge of his spiritual identity with that huge crowd of men and women was paramount in his mind and vibrant in his voice, communicating itself irresistibly to those who saw and heard him.

In short, it would not seem to be going beyond the realm of fact to say that the spontaneous and prolonged standing ovation that met Swamiji's first words of greeting sprang from a source as deep as did those words themselves and that the rapport that was immediately created between himself and his audience betokened the real significance of his visit to the West. This at least would seem to have been the case, though few at the time may have been aware of what force had so deeply stirred them.