Accordingly, Swami Vivekananda wrote to Miss Sarah Ellen Waldo from London on October 8: _x000d_ ... Why do you not begin to teach? Begin boldly — Mother will give you all power — thousands will come to you. Plunge in. No clinging to this fellow or that. Wherever Shri Ramakrishna's children boldly come out, He is with them.... I will be a thousand times more pleased to see one of you start than any number of Hindus scoring success in America — even one of my brethren. "Man wants victory from everywhere, but defeat from his own children." I will begin from today sending out powerful thoughts to you all. Make a blaze, make a blaze.

Waveney Mansions_x000d_ Fairhazel Gardens_x000d_ London N.W._x000d_ April, 1896_x000d_ Thursday Afternoon_x000d_ Dear Sturdy,_x000d_ I forgot to tell you in the morning that Prof. Max Muller also offered in his letter to me to do everything he could if I went to lecture at Oxford._x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ PS. Have you written for the Artharva-Veda Samhita edited by Shankara Pandurang?_x000d_ V.

The "other monk" was Swami Saradananda. As we have seen in an earlier chapter, the Swami had been trying for several months to persuade one or another of his brother-disciples to come from India in order to assist him in the Western work. Hence it gave him great joy to find Swami Saradananda awaiting him in Reading, particularly since he had seen none of his brother-disciples for about three years. Swami Saradananda brought all the news from India and told about the monastery in Alambazar and about each of its members. Swami Vivekananda, in turn, communicated his many plans to his brother monk, who was lost in wonder at his indefatigable energy and apostolic fervour. The information the Swami received from Swami Saradananda about the Alambazar Math made him think that the procedure of work at the newly founded monastery deserved his greater attention. Thus on April 27, he wrote from Reading at length to his brother-disciples in India, giving them detailed instructions in regard to running the Math along practical and organizational lines. But of these instructions, which pertain to his Indian work and his ever-present concern with its beginning and development, we shall see later.

But Caversham was not all philosophy: Swamiji was delighted to find there (as he knew he would) his brother disciple Swami Saradananda, who had arrived in England on April 1. The two Swamis had not seen each other since the early part of 1891 and had much to say. They no doubt walked together in the April countryside, along the lanes, by the side of the Thames, conversing in Bengali all the while. Swamiji amazed his brother monk with tales of successes in the West and his plans for the future. On his part, Swami Saradananda spoke of Alambazar Math, then the headquarters of the young Ramakrishna Order, and of the other monastic disciples of Sri Ramakrishna, none of whom Swamiji had seen for at least three years._x000d_ Swami Saradananda's report may have helped Swamiji to write a long-pondered letter to his brothers at the Math, stressing, as he had often done before, the need for organization. This time he laid down definite rules and regulations in regard to the Math's daily routine as well as to its overall government. (This now famous letter, written in an Oxfordshire village on the Thames, constituted the beginning of what Swamiji would later expand into the official Rules and Regulations of the Ramakrishna Math at Belur on the Ganges-a world away.)

It would not appear that the Swami stayed in Reading for more than a week or so. To facilitate his work, Mr. Sturdy had rented Lady Isabel Margesson's house at 63 St. George's Road, in Southwest London. Here the Swami made his home, together with Swami Saradananda, Mr. Josiah J. Goodwin, his devoted disciple, who had taken the vow of a Brahmachari and served him as secretary and personal attendant, Mr. John P. Fox, whom he had known in America, and the Swami's younger brother, Mahendranath Datta, who had reached London earlier for the purpose of higher education. Mr. Sturdy also came occasionally and stayed. In addition Miss Henrietta Muller, who shared the expenses of maintaining this establishment, had sublet a number of rooms under the same roof. In early May, Swamiji wrote to Mary Hale. "We have a whole house to ourselves, you know, this time. It is small but convenient, and in London they do not cost so much as in America…. Some old friends are here, and Miss MacLeod came over from the Continent. She is good as gold, and as kind as ever. We have a nice little family, in the house, with another monk from India. Poor man! — a typical Hindu with nothing of that pluck and go which I have, he is always dreamy and gentle and sweet! That won't do. I will try to put a little activity into him. I have had two classes already — they will go on for four or five months and after that to India I go."

Plans were a foot for the coming season in London. During Swamiji's absence, Mr. Sturdy had not been idle: apart from his frustrated publishing projects, he had held weekly classes until the Easter holidays in April, when they had been suspended, and had leased the Margesson house in anticipation of larger crowds. On March 17 he had written to Swamiji, "Lady Isabel lately wrote me that they would be letting their house for the summer months and furnished. I went to see it and the result is I have taken it for five months from the 1st May until 1st Oct for 63 for you & your classes. I think it will do very well for the purpose. Miss Muller will take some rooms in it and so help to reduce the cost.The Margessons' house was the townhouse at 63 St. George's Road in fashionable South Belgravia, or Pimlico, where on the cold Sunday afternoon of November 10, 1895, Swamiji had given a talk to a small group of Lady Isabel Margesson's friends, among whom had been a Miss Margaret Noble.

Before starting his London work, the Swami spent a few days, along with Swami Saradananda, at Miss Muller's home at Towers Lodge in Pinkney's Green, Maidenhead, a municipal borough on the Thames, twelve miles northeast of Reading. It was probably during one such visit outside of London in the English countryside that an incident occurred which shows his courage in the face of danger. 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: _x000d_ The Englishman frankly ran, and reached the other side of the bill 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._x000d_ 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 saying the life of the woman who occupied the carriage behind.

Presumably, Swamiji moved to St. George's Road on Friday, May 1. Before starting work, however, he and Swami Saradananda spent a few days with Miss Muller at her house, the Meads, in the village of Pinkney's Green. There they were joined by Mahendra Nath Datta, the elder of Swamiji's two younger brothers. Mahendra Nath, who was then twenty-six, had recently come to England with the intention of studying law and had been staying in another town. Years later he was to write his memoirs of those extraordinary days in England with his great brother. No one's memory, it is true, remains unaltered through the years; nevertheless, Mahendra Nath Datta's three-volume Londone Swami Vivekananda (Swami Vivekananda in London) is a mine of information, full of details and incidents that could not, one thinks, have existed in memory at all if they had not existed in fact.* We shall, then, with the kind permission of the Mohendra Publishing Committee, take advantage of these memoirs, or, rather, an unpublished English precis of them made by Swami Yogeshananda._x000d_ * The reader who is familiar with Mahendra Nath Datta’s account will find that the presents history does not always follow it faithfully. For instance, Mr. Datta places Swamiji’s visit to the Meads at a somewhat later date than is given here. I shall not always point out such discrepancies, which are many, but simply ask the reader to have faith that Mahendra Nath Datta’s memory can be expanded and amended by reliable information that was not available to him when he wrote his book.

The last time Swamiji had been in Calcutta was in 1890, and it is probable that Mahendra Nath-or Mahendra, as we shall call him-had not seen him since then. He now found in him a new power and presence! Indeed at the Meads Mahendra had his first wonderstruck glimpse of his elder brother's loftiness of stature. Even Swami Saradananda was stunned by a remark Swamiji let fall during the course of a conversation with Miss Henrietta Muller. They may have all been sitting in the garden¬arbor taking afternoon tea. Speaking of his mission, Swamiji said, "I will have a lot of difficult work to do in this life. Compared with last time, there is much more to be done." And scorning Miss Muller's remark to the effect that work should have an end, he said directly to her, "This time I will work up to the very last moment!" And a little later: "I have just begun my work; in America I have raised only one or two waves; a tidal wave must be raised; society must be turned upside down; the world must be given a new civilization. The world will understand what that Power is and why I have come. Compared with the power I showed last time, it will be tremendous. When one remembers that Swamiji once later remarked, "This time I have left nothing unsaid, it is not too difficult to believe that to the small and intimate group at Pinkney's Green, in this brief respite between two momentous seasons of his mission, he suddenly gave expression to the underlying facts of his existence on this earth and of his place in history-facts such as a prophet of his stature intuitively knows.*_x000d_ * In connection with Swamiji’s statements at Pinkney’s Green regarding the significance of his work, one is reminded of Sister Nivedita’s comment: “He was profoundly conscious of the historic significance of his own teaching” (The Master as I Saw Him, sixth edition, page 36). But he was well aware that his work was but a beginning, as the sowing of a viable seed is the beginning of a forest. “I have only laid the foundation of the work,” he was to say the following year of his Western teaching. “If future preachers follow my path, a good deal of work may be done in time” (Complete Works, 6:447).

There were, of course, other modes of talk at Pinkney's Green. Mahendra recalled that Mr. and Mrs. Sturdy arrived one afternoon on bicycles from Caversham, some twelve miles distant. The conversation then was practical and concerned with plans for the coming London work. It may have been on still another day, when sobersided Mr. Sturdy was, not there, that Swamiji and Swami Saradananda themselves tried (without much success) to ride a bicycle in front of the house. "That day," Mahendra recalled, "he was his boyish self, all jokes, and in a sweet voice he sang a Bengali song:_x000d_  _x000d_ Who set me adrift on the waves_x000d_ in the boat of desire?_x000d_ At morn the boat went floating;_x000d_ I thought this was a grand play_x000d_ of the water,_x000d_ And the spring breeze would blow sweet;_x000d_ I would go floating in joy.

But to return to the Swami's work, the reader will remember that during his previous visit in England he had devoted a good deal of his time to helping Mr Sturdy in his translation of the Narada-Sutras on Bhakti-Yoga. The book, which contained commentaries by the Swami, was published in April of 1896 and was deservedly popular. As has been mentioned in the last chapter, three of the Swami's great works were published this same year: in America, Karma-Yoga, which consisted of eight of his New York class talks on that subject, had been brought out in February; in London, his New York classes on Raja-Yoga, together with his translation of and commentary on Patanjali's Yoga Aphorisms, were published in July under the title Raja-Yoga by Longmans, Green, and Company. This last mentioned work did not appear without some preliminary difficulty between Swamiji's English and American followers regarding copyrights and so on. "So much red tape about printing a little book!" the Swami wrote in exasperation to Mrs Bull on May 8. But soon the trouble was resolved, and the first English edition of Raja-.Yoga came out on July 13, 1896. In Madras, the Swami's New York classes on Bhakti-Yoga were to he brought out in book form by September of the same year.

On April 15, 1896 Swami Vivekananda sailed from New York for Liverpool on the S.S. Germanic of the White Star Line. From Liverpool he travelled to Reading, for he was again to be the guest of Mr Edward T. Sturdy. The journey had been uneventful; he wrote, shortly after his arrival, to Mary Hale on April 20: "The voyage has been pleasant and no sickness this time. I gave myself treatment to avoid it. I made quite a little run through Ireland and some of the Old English towns, and now am once more in Reading amidst Brahman and Maya and Jiva, the individual and the Universal soul, etc. The other monk is here; he is one of the nicest of men I see, and is quite a learned monk too. We are busy editing books now. Nothing of importance happened on the way. It was dull, monotonous, and prosaic as my life."

The voyage from New York to Liverpool on the S.S. Germanic took just half the time of Swamiji's "disastrous" winter crossing (going the other way) the previous December. He availed himself, moreover, of the sea-sickness remedy that his friend William Flagg had offered, and thus, as he wrote to Mary Hale, "The voyage has been pleasant and no sickness this time. The ship touched at Queenstown, or Cobh, on the south coast of Ireland, and it would seem that Swamiji and Josiah J. Goodwin there disembarked, "made quite a little run through Ireland, reboarded the Germanic at a port further north; and crossed the Irish Sea to Liverpool. From there they went by train through "some of the old English towns," at one of which Mr. Goodwin changed trains for Bath to visit his widowed mother before going on to London. Swamiji proceeded to Reading, and on April 20 we find him once more in Caversham with Mr. Sturdy "amidst Brahma and Maya and Jiva, the individual and the universal soul, etc.

High View, Reading_x000d_ 20th April, 1896_x000d_ Dear Sisters {the Hale sisters},_x000d_ Greetings to you from the other shore. The voyage has been pleasant and no sickness this time. I gave myself treatment to avoid it. I made quite a little run through Ireland and some of the Old English towns and now am once more in Reading amidst Brahma and Maya and Jiva, the individual and the universal soul, etc. The other monk is here; he is one of the nicest of men I see, and is quite a learned monk too. We are busy editing books now. Nothing of importance happened on the way. It was dull, monotonous, and prosaic as my life. I love America more when I am out of it. And, after all, those years there have been some of the best I have yet seen._x000d_ Are you trying to get some subscribers for the Brahmavadin ? Give my best love and kindest remembrance to Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Conger. Write me as soon as is convenient all about yourselves, and what you are doing, what breaks the monotony of eating, drinking, and cycling. I am in a hurry just now, shall write a bigger letter later; so good-bye and may you be always happy._x000d_ Your ever affectionate brother,_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ PS. I will write to Mother Church as soon as I get time. Give my love to Sam and sister Locke._x000d_ V.

To Sister Christine_x000d_ High View, Caversham_x000d_ Reading, London._x000d_ 26th April '96_x000d_ Dear Christina,_x000d_ How are things going on with you? I am all safe and sound here in England. Going to begin work from May fourth. How is Mrs. Funkey [Funke]?_x000d_ Give them all my Love. Write me all about yourself and Mrs. Funkey when you have time. Address me at 63 St., George's Road, S.W. London._x000d_ Where is Krip. [Swami Kripananda]? What is he doing now? Has he been able to get up any classes yet? Has his temper gone down?_x000d_ Give them all my love__and [to] Miss Hamilton and to all my friends and to the Rabbi [Grossman of Detroit]._x000d_ Yours ever with love and blessings,_x000d_ Vivekananda

Aside from this letter of April 27 and his letter of April 20 to the Hale sisters, from which I have quoted above, the only other known letter written by Swamiji at this period is a heretofore unpublished note to Sister Christine. It is short and not very informative, but it perhaps said everything that she could want to know: he sent her his love and blessings and told her that he himself was all right.It reads in full:

High View, Caversham,_x000d_ Reading,_x000d_ 27th April, 1896_x000d_ {original in Bengali}_x000d_ Dear {members of the Alambazar Math},_x000d_ . . . Let me write something for you all. It is not for gaining personal authority that I do this, but for your good and for fulfilling the purpose for which the Lord came. He gave me the charge of you all, and you shall contribute to the great well-being of the world--though most of you are not yet aware of it--this is the special reason of my writing to you. It will be a great pity if any feeling of jealousy or egotism gain ground amongst you. Is it possible for those to establish cordial relations on earth who cannot cordially live with one another for any length of time? No doubt it is an evil to be bound by laws, but it is necessary at the immature stage to be guided by rules; in other words, as the Master used to say that the sapling must be hedged round, and so on. Secondly, it is quite natural for idle minds to indulge in gossip, and faction-mongering, and so forth. Hence I jot down the following hints. If you follow them, you will undoubtedly prosper, but if you don't do so, then there is a danger of all our labours coming to naught._x000d_ First let me write about the management of the Math:_x000d_ 1. For the purposes of the Math please hire a commodious house or garden, where everyone may have a small room to himself. There must be a spacious hall where the books may be kept, and a smaller room for meeting the visitors. If possible, there should be another big hall in the house where study of the scriptures and religious discourses will be held every day for the public._x000d_ 2. Anyone wishing to visit anybody in the Math should see him only and depart, without troubling others._x000d_ 3. By turns someone should be present in the hall for a few hours every day for the public, so that they may get satisfactory replies to what they come to ask._x000d_ 4. Everyone must keep to his room and except on special business must not go to others' rooms. Anyone who wishes may go to the Library and read, but it should be strictly forbidden to smoke there or talk with others. The reading should be silent._x000d_ 5. It shall be wholly forbidden to huddle together in a room and chat the whole day away, with any number of outsiders coming and joining in the hubbub._x000d_ 6. Only those that are seekers after religion may come and peacefully wait in the Visitors' Hall and when they have seen the particular persons they want, they should depart. Or, if they have any general question to ask, they should refer to the person in charge of that function for the day and leave._x000d_ 7. Tale-bearing, caballing, or reporting scandals about others should be altogether eschewed._x000d_ 8. A small room should serve as the office. The Secretary should live in that room, which should contain paper, ink, and other materials for letter-writing. He should keep an account of the income and expenditure. All correspondence should come to him, and he should deliver all letters unopened to their addressees. Books and pamphlets should be sent to the Library._x000d_ 9. There will be a small room for smoking, which should not be indulged in outside this room._x000d_ 10. He who wants to indulge in invectives or show temper must do so outside the boundaries of the Math. This should not be deviated from even by an inch._x000d_ _x000d_ THE GOVERNING BODY_x000d_ 1. Every year a President should be elected by a majority of votes. The next year, another, and so on._x000d_ 2. For this year make Brahmananda the President and likewise make another the Secretary, and elect a third man for superintending the worship etc., as well as the arrangement of food._x000d_ 3. The Secretary shall have another function, viz to keep watch over the general health. Regarding this I have three instructions to give:_x000d_ (i) In every room for each man there shall be a Nair charpoy, mattress, etc. Everyone must keep his room clean._x000d_ (ii) All arrangements must be made to provide clear and pure water for drinking and cooking purposes, for it is a deadly sin to cook sacramental food in impure or unclean water._x000d_ (iii) Give everyone two ochre cloaks of the type that you have made for Saradananda, and see that clothing is kept clean._x000d_ 4. Anyone wishing to be a Sannyasin should be admitted as a Brahmacharin first. He should live one year at the Math and one year outside, after which he may be initiated into Sannyasa. _x000d_ 5. Make over charge of the worship to one of these Brahmacharins, and change them now and then._x000d_ _x000d_ DEPARTMENTS_x000d_ There shall be the following departments in the Math:_x000d_ I. Study . II. Propaganda . III. Religious Practice ._x000d_ I.Study --The object of this department is to provide books and teachers for those who want to study. Every morning and evening the teachers should be ready for them._x000d_ II. Propaganda --Within the Math, and abroad. The preachers in the Math should teach the inquirers by reading out scriptures to them and by means of question-classes. The preachers abroad will preach from village to village and try to start Maths like the above in different places._x000d_ III. Religious Practice --This department will try to provide those who want to practise with the requisites for this. But it should not be allowed that because one has taken to religious practice he will prevent others from study or preaching. Any one infringing this rule shall be immediately asked to clear out, and this is imperative._x000d_ The preachers at home should give lessons on devotion, knowledge, Yoga, and work by turns; for this, the days and hours should be fixed, and the routine hung up at the door of the class-room. That is to say, a seeker after devotion may not present himself on the day fixed for knowledge and feel wounded thereby; and so on._x000d_ None of you are fit for the Vamachara form of practice. Therefore this should on no account be practised at the Math. Anyone demurring to this must step out of this Order. This form of practice must never even be mentioned in the Math. Ruin shall seize the wicked man, both here and hereafter, who would introduce vile Vamachara into His fold! _x000d_ SOME GENERAL REMARKS_x000d_ 1. If any woman comes to have a talk with a Sannyasin, she should do it in the Visitors' Hall. No woman shall be allowed to enter any other room--except the Worship-room._x000d_ 2. No Sannyasin shall be allowed to reside in the Women's Math. Anyone refusing to obey this rule shall be expelled from the Math. "Better an empty fold than a wicked herd."_x000d_ 3. Men of evil character shall be rigorously kept out. On no pretence shall their shadow even cross the threshold of my room. If anyone amongst you become wicked, turn him out at once, whoever he be. We want no black sheep. The Lord will bring lots of good people._x000d_ 4. Any woman can come to the class-room (or preaching hall) during class time or preaching hour, but must leave the place directly when that period is over._x000d_ 5. Never show temper, or harbour jealousy, or backbite another in secret. It would be the height of cruelty and hard-heartedness to take note of others' shortcoming instead of rectifying one's own._x000d_ 6. There should be fixed hours of meals. Everyone must have a seat and a low dining table. He will sit on the former and put his plate on the latter, as is the custom in Rajputana._x000d_ _x000d_ THE OFFICE-BEARERS_x000d_ All the office-bearers you should elect by ballot, as was the mandate of Lord Buddha. That is to say, one should propose that such and such should be the President this year; and all should write on bits of paper 'yes' or 'no' and put them in a pitcher. If the 'yes' have a majority, he should be elected President, and so on. Though you should elect office-bearers in this way, yet I suggest that this year Brahmananda should be President, Nirmalananda, Secretary and Treasurer, Sadananda Librarian, and Ramakrishnananda, Abhedananda, Turiyananda, and Trigunatitananda should take charge of the teaching and preaching work by turns, and so on._x000d_ It is no doubt a good idea that Trigunatita has of starting a magazine. But I shall consent to it if only you can work jointly._x000d_ About doctrines and so forth I have to say only this, that if anyone accepts Paramahamsa Deva as Avatara etc., it is all right; if he doesn't do so, it is just the same. The truth about it is that in point of character, Paramahamsa Deva beats all previous records; and as regards teaching, he was more liberal, more original, and more progressive than all his predecessors. In other words, the older Teachers were rather one-sided, while the teaching of this new Incarnation or Teacher is that the best point of Yoga, devotion, knowledge, and work must be combined now so as to form a new society. . . . The older ones were no doubt good, but this is the new religion of this age--the synthesis of Yoga, knowledge, devotion, and work--the propagation of knowledge and devotion to all, down to the very lowest, without distinction of age or sex. The previous Incarnations were all right, but they have been synthesised in the person of Ramakrishna. For the ordinary man and the beginner, steady devotion (Nishtha) to an ideal is of paramount importance. That is to say, teach them that all great Personalities should be duly honoured, but homage should be paid now to Ramakrishna. There can be no vigour without steady devotion. Without it one cannot preach with the intensity of a Mahavira (Hanuman). Besides, the previous ones have become rather old. Now we have a new India, with its new God, new religion, and new Vedas. When, O Lord, shall our land be free from this eternal dwelling upon the past? Well, a little bigotry also is a necessity. But we must harbour no antagonistic feelings towards others._x000d_ If you consider it wise to be guided by my ideas and if you follow these rules, then I shall supply on all necessary funds. . . . Moreover, please show this letter to Gour-Ma, Yogin-Ma, and others, and through them establish a Women's Math. Let Gour-Ma be the President there for one year, and so on. But none of you shall be allowed to visit the place. They will manage their own affairs. They will not have to work at your dictation. I shall supply all necessary expenses for that work also._x000d_ May the Lord guide you in the right direction! Two persons went to see the Lord Jagannatha. One of them beheld the Deity--while the other saw some trash that was haunting his mind! My friends, many have no doubt served the Master, but whenever anyone would be disposed to consider himself an extraordinary personage, he should think that although he was associated with Shri Ramakrishna, he has seen only the trash that was uppermost in his mind! Were it not so, he would manifest the results. The Master himself used to quote, "They would sing and dance in the name of the Lord but come to grief in the end." The root of that degeneration is egotism--to think that one is just as great as any other, indeed! "He used to love me too!"--one would plead. Alas, Nick Bottom, would you then be thus translated? Would such a man envy or quarrel with another and degrade himself? Bear in mind that through His grace lots of men will be turned out with the nobility of gods--ay, wherever His mercy would drop! . . . Obedience is the first duty. Well, just do with alacrity what I ask you to. Let me see how you carry out these few small things. Then gradually great things will come to pass._x000d_ Yours,_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ PS. Please read the contents of this letter to all, and let me know whether you consider the suggestions worth carrying out. Please tell Brahmananda that he who is the servant of all is their true master. He never becomes a leader in whose love there is a consideration of high or low. He whose love knows no end, and never stops to consider high or low, has the whole world lying at his feet._x000d_ V.

63 St. George's Road, London_x000d_ May, 1896_x000d_ Dear Sister,_x000d_ In London once more. The climate now in England is nice and cool. We have fire in the grate. We have a whole house to ourselves, you know, this time. It is small but convenient, and in London they do not cost so much as in America. Don't you know what I was thinking--about your mother! I just wrote her a letter and duly posted it to her, care of Monroe & Co., 7 Rue Scribe, Paris. Some old friends are here, and Miss MacLeod came over from the Continent. She is good as gold, and as kind as ever. We have a nice little family, in the house, with another monk from India. Poor man!--a typical Hindu with nothing of that pluck and go which I have, he is always dreamy and gentle and sweet! That won't do. I will try to put a little activity into him. I have had two classes already--they will go on for four or five months and after that to India I go. But it is to Amerique--there where the heart is. I love the Yankee land. I like to see new things. I do not care a fig to loaf about old ruins and mope a life out about old histories and keep sighing about the ancients. I have too much vigour in my blood for that. In America is the place, the people, the opportunity for everything. I have become horribly radical. I am just going to India to see what I can do in that awful mass of conservative jelly-fish, and start a new thing, entirely new--simple, strong, new and fresh as the first born baby. The eternal, the infinite, the omnipresent, the omniscient is a principle, not a person. You, I, and everyone are but embodiments of that principle, and the more of this infinite principle is embodied in a person, the greater is he, and all in the end will be the perfect embodiment of that and thus all will be one as they are now essentially. This is all there is of religion, and the practice is through this feeling of oneness that is love. All old fogy forms are mere old superstitions. Now, why struggle to keep them alive? Why give thirsty people ditch-water to drink whilst the river of life and truth flows by? This is only human selfishness, nothing else. Life is short--time is flying--that place and people where one's ideas work best should be the country and the people for everyone. Ay, for a dozen bold hearts, large, noble, and sincere!_x000d_ I am very well indeed and enjoying life immensely._x000d_ Yours ever with love,_x000d_ Vivekananda

C/o E. T. Sturdy, Esq._x000d_ High View, Caversham, Reading_x000d_ May (?) 1896_x000d_ {original in Bengali}_x000d_ Dear Shashi {Ramakrishnananda},_x000d_ . . . This City of London is a sea of human heads--ten or fifteen Calcuttas put together. One is apt to be lost in the mazes unless he arranges for somebody to meet him on arrival. . . . However, let Kali start at once. If he be late in starting like Sharat, better let no one come. It won't do to loiter and procrastinate like that. It is a task that requires the height of Rajas (activity). . . . Our whole country is steeped in Tamas, and nothing but that. We want Rajas first, and Sattva will come afterwards--a thing far, far removed._x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

. . . I presume that in his own country the Swami would live under a tree, or at most in the precincts of a temple, his head shaved, dressed in the costume of his country. But these things are not done in London, so that I found the Swami located much like other people, and, save that he wears a long coat of a dark orange shade, dressed like other mortals likewise. He laughingly related that his dress, especially when he wears a turban, does not commend itself to the London street arab, whose observations are scarcely worth repeating. I began by asking the Indian Yogi to spell his name very slowly. . . ._x000d_ "Do you think that nowadays people are laying much stress on the non-essential?"_x000d_ "I think so among the backward nations, and among the less cultured portion of the civilised people of the West. Your question implies that among the cultured and the wealthy, matters are on a different footing. So they are; the wealthy are either immersed in the enjoyment of wealth or grubbing for more. They, and a large section of the busy people, say of religion that it is rot, stuff, nonsense, and they honestly think so. The only religion that is fashionable is patriotism and Mrs. Grundy. People merely go to church when they are marrying or burying somebody."_x000d_ "Will your message take them oftener to church?"_x000d_ "I scarcely think it will. Since I have nothing whatever to do with ritual or dogma; my mission is to show that religion is everything and in everything. . . . And what can we say of the system here in England? Everything goes to show that Socialism or some form of rule by the people, call it what you will, is coming on the boards. The people will certainly want the satisfaction of their material needs, less work, no oppression, no war, more food. What guarantee have we that this or any civilisation will last, unless it is based on religion, on the goodness of man? Depend on it, religion goes to the root of the matter. If it is right, all is right."_x000d_ "It must be difficult to get the essential, the metaphysical, part of religion into the minds of the people. It is remote from their thoughts and manner of life."_x000d_ "In all religions we travel from a lesser to a higher truth, never from error to truth. There is a Oneness behind all creation, but minds are very various. 'That which exists is One, sages call It variously.' What I mean is that one progresses from a smaller to a greater truth. The worst religions are only bad readings of the truth. One gets to understand bit by bit. Even devil-worship is but a perverted reading of the ever-true and immutable Brahman. Other phases have more or less of the truth in them. No form of religion possesses it entirely."_x000d_ "May one ask if you originated this religion you have come to preach to England?"_x000d_ "Certainly not. I am a pupil of a great Indian sage, Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. He was not what one might call a very learned man, as some of our sages are, but a very holy one, deeply imbued with the spirit of the Vedanta philosophy. When I say philosophy, I hardly know whether I ought not to say religion, for it is really both. You must read Professor Max Muller's account of my Master in a recent number of the Nineteenth Century. Ramakrishna was born in the Hooghly district in 1836 and died in 1886. He produced a deep effect on the life of Keshab Chandra Sen and others. By discipline of the body and subduing of the mind he obtained a wonderful insight into the spiritual world. His face was distinguished by a childlike tenderness, profound humility, and remarkable sweetness of expression. No one could look upon it unmoved."_x000d_ "Then your teaching is derived from the Vedas?"_x000d_ "Yes, Vedanta means the end of the Vedas, the third section or Upanishads, containing the ripened ideas which we find more as germs in the earlier portion. The most ancient portion of the Vedas is the Samhita, which is in very archaic Sanskrit, only to be understood by the aid of a very old dictionary, the Nirukta of Yaska."_x000d_ "I fear that we English have rather the idea that India has much to learn from us; the average man is pretty ignorant as to what may be learnt from India."_x000d_ "That is so, but the world of scholars know well how much is to be learnt and how important the lesson. You would not find Max Muller, Monier Williams, Sir William Hunter, or German Oriental scholars making light of Indian abstract science."_x000d_ . . . The Swami gives his lecture at 39 Victoria Street. All are made welcome, and as in ancient apostolic times, the new teaching is without money and without price. The Indian missionary is a man of exceptionally fine physique; his command of English can only be described as perfect._x000d_ C.S.B

English people are well acquainted with the fact that they send missionaries to India's "coral strands". Indeed, so thoroughly do they obey the behest, "Go ye forth into all the world and preach the Gospel", that none of the chief British sects are behindhand in obedience to the call to spread Christ's teaching. People are not so well aware that India also sends missionaries to England._x000d_ By accident, if the term may be allowed, I fell across the Swami Vivekananda in his temporary home at 63 St. George's Road, S.W., and as he did not object to discuss the nature of his work and visit to England, I sought him there and began our talk with an expression of surprise at his assent to my request._x000d_ "I got thoroughly used to the interviewer in America. Because it is not the fashion in my country, that is no reason why I should not use means existing in any country I visit, for spreading what I desire to be known! There I was representative of the Hindu religion at the World's Parliament of Religions at Chicago in 1893. The Raja of Mysore and some other friends sent me there. I think I may lay claim to having had some success in America. I had many invitations to other great American cities besides Chicago; my visit was a very long one, for, with the exception of a visit to England last summer, repeated as you see this year, I remained about three years in America. The American civilisation is, in my opinion, a very great one. I find the American mind peculiarly susceptible to new ideas; nothing is rejected because it is new. It is examined on its own merits, and stands or falls by these alone."_x000d_ "Whereas in England--you mean to imply something?"_x000d_ "Yes, in England, civilisation is older, it has gathered many accretions as the centuries have rolled on. In particular, you have many prejudices that need to be broken through, and whoever deals with you in ideas must lay this to his account."_x000d_ "So they say. I gather that you did not found anything like a church or a new religion in America."_x000d_ "That is true. It is contrary to our principles to multiply organisations, since, in all conscience, there are enough of them. And when organisations are created, they need individuals to look after them. Now, those who have made Sannyasa--that is, renunciation of all worldly position, property, and name--whose aim is to seek spiritual knowledge, cannot undertake this work, which is, besides, in other hands."_x000d_ "Is your teaching a system of comparative religion?"_x000d_ "It might convey a more definite idea to call it the kernel of all forms of religion, stripping from them the non-essential, and laying stress on that which is the real basis. I am a disciple of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, a perfect Sannyasin whose influence and ideas I fell under. This great Sannyasin never assumed the negative or critical attitude towards other religions, but showed their positive side--how they could be carried into life and practised. To fight, to assume the antagonistic attitude, is the exact contrary of his teaching, which dwells on the truth that the world is moved by love. You know that the Hindu religion never persecutes. It is the land where all sects may live in peace and amity. The Mohammedans brought murder and slaughter in their train, but until their arrival peace prevailed. Thus the Jains, who do not believe in a God and who regard such belief as a delusion, were tolerated, and still are there today. India sets the example of real strength, that is meekness. Dash, pluck, fight, all these things are weakness."_x000d_ "It sounds very like Tolstoy's doctrine; it may do for individuals, though personally I doubt it. But how will it answer for nations?"_x000d_ "Admirably for them also. It was India's Karma, her fate, to be conquered, and in her turn, to conquer her conqueror. She has already done so with her Mohammedan victors: Educated Mohammedans are Sufis, scarcely to be distinguished from Hindus. Hindu thought has permeated their civilisation; they assumed the position of learners. The great Akbar, the Mogul Emperor, was practically a Hindu. And England will be conquered in her turn. Today she has the sword, but it is worse than useless in the world of ideas. You know what Schopenhauer said of Indian thought. He foretold that its influence would be as momentous in Europe, when it became well known, as the revival of Greek and Latin culture after the Dark Ages."_x000d_ "Excuse me saying that there do not seem many signs of it just now."_x000d_ "Perhaps not", said the Swami, gravely. "I dare say a good many people saw no signs of the old Renaissance and did not know it was there, even after it had come. But there is a great movement, which can be discerned by those who know the signs of the times. Oriental research has of recent years made great progress. At present it is in the hands of scholars, and it seems dry and heavy in the work they have achieved. But gradually the light of comprehension will break."_x000d_ "And India is to be the great conqueror of the future? Yet she does not send out many missionaries to preach her ideas. I presume she will wait until the world comes to her feet?"_x000d_ "India was once a great missionary power. Hundreds of years before England was converted to Christianity, Buddha sent out missionaries to convert the world of Asia to his doctrine. The world of thought is being converted. We are only at the beginning as yet. The number of those who decline to adopt any special form of religion is greatly increasing, and this movement is among the educated classes. In a recent American census, a large number of persons declined to class themselves as belonging to any form of religion. All religions are different expressions of the same truth; all march on or die out. They are the radii of the same truth, the expression that variety of minds requires."_x000d_ "Now we are getting near it. What is that central truth?"_x000d_ "The Divine within; every being, however degraded, is the expression of the Divine. The Divinity becomes covered, hidden from view. I call to mind an incident of the Indian Mutiny. A Swami, who for years had fulfilled a vow of eternal silence, was stabbed by a Mohammedan. They dragged the murderer before his victim and cried out, 'Speak the word, Swami, and he shall die.' After many years of silence, he broke it to say with his last breath: 'My children, you are all mistaken. That man is God Himself.' The great lesson is, that unity is behind all. Call it God, Love, Spirit, Allah, Jehovah--it is the same unity that animates all life from the lowest animal to the noblest man. Picture to yourself an ocean ice-bound, pierced with many different holes. Each of these is a soul, a man, emancipated according to his degree of intelligence, essaying to break through the ice."_x000d_ "I think I see one difference between the wisdom of the East and that of the West. You aim at producing very perfect individuals by Sannyasa, concentration, and so forth. Now the ideal of the West seems to be the perfecting of the social state; and so we work at political and social questions, since we think that the permanence of our civilisation depends upon the well-being of the people."_x000d_ "But the basis of all systems, social or political," said the Swami with great earnestness, "rests upon the goodness of men. No nation is great or good because Parliament enacts this or that, but because its men are great and good. I have visited China which had the most admirable organisation of all nations. Yet today China is like a disorganised mob, because her men are not equal to the system contrived in the olden days. Religion goes to the root of the matter. If it is right, all is right."_x000d_ "It sounds just a little vague and remote from practical life, that the Divine is within everything but covered. One can't be looking for it all the time."_x000d_ "People often work for the same ends but fail to recognise the fact. One must admit that law, government, politics are phases not final in any way. There is a goal beyond them where law is not needed. And by the way, the very word Sannyasin means the divine outlaw, one might say, divine nihilist, but that miscomprehension pursues those that use such a word. All great Masters teach the same thing. Christ saw that the basis is not law, that morality and purity are the only strength. As for your statement that the East aims at higher self-development and the West at the perfecting of the social state, you do not of course forget that there is an apparent Self and a real Self."_x000d_ "The inference, of course, being that we work for the apparent, you for the real?"_x000d_ "The mind works through various stages to attain its fuller development. First, it lays hold of the concrete, and only gradually deals with abstractions. Look, too, how the idea of universal brotherhood is reached. First it is grasped as brotherhood within a sect--hard, narrow, and exclusive. Step by step we reach broad generalisations and the world of abstract ideas."_x000d_ "So you think that those sects, of which we English are so fond, will die out. You know what the Frenchman said, 'England, the land of a thousand sects and but one sauce'."_x000d_ "I am sure that they are bound to disappear. Their existence is founded on non-essentials; the essential part of them will remain and be built up into another edifice. You know the old saying that it is good to be born in a church, but not to die in it."_x000d_ "Perhaps you will say how your work is progressing in England?"_x000d_ "Slowly, for the reasons I have already named. When you deal with roots and foundations, all real progress must be slow. Of course, I need not say that these ideas are bound to spread by one means or another, and to many of us the right moment for their dissemination seems now to have come."_x000d_ Then I listened to an explanation of how the work is carried on. Like many an old doctrine, this new one is offered without money and without price, depending entirely upon the voluntary efforts of those who embrace it._x000d_ The Swami is a picturesque figure in his Eastern dress. His simple and cordial manner, savouring of anything but the popular idea of asceticism, an unusual command of English and great conversational powers add not a little to an interesting personality. . . . His vow of Sannyasa implies renunciation of position, property, and name, as well as the persistent search for spiritual knowledge.

During the London season, Swami Vivekananda has been teaching and lecturing to considerable numbers of people who have been attracted by his doctrine and philosophy. Most English people fancy that England has the practical monopoly of missionary enterprise, almost unbroken save for a small effort on the part of France. I therefore sought the Swami in his temporary home in South Belgravia to enquire what message India could possibly send to England, apart from the remonstrances she has too often had to make on the subject of home charges, judicial and executive functions combined in one person, the settlement of expenses connected with Sudanese and other expeditions._x000d_ "It is no new thing", said the Swami composedly, "that India should send forth missionaries. She used to do so under the Emperor Asoka, in the days when the Buddhist faith was young, when she had something to teach the surrounding nation."_x000d_ "Well, might one ask why she ever ceased doing so, and why she has now begun again?"_x000d_ "She ceased because she grew selfish, forgot the principle that nations and individuals alike subsist and prosper by a system of give and take. Her mission to the world has always been the same. It is spiritual, the realm of introspective thought has been hers through all the ages; abstract science, metaphysics, logic, are her special domain. In reality, my mission to England is an outcome of England's to India. It has been hers to conquer, to govern, to use her knowledge of physical science to her advantage and ours. In trying to sum up India's contribution to the world, I am reminded of a Sanskrit and an English idiom. When you say a man dies, your phrase is, 'He gave up the ghost', whereas we say, 'He gave up the body'. Similarly, you more than imply that the body is the chief part of man by saying it possesses a soul. Whereas we say a man is a soul and possesses a body. These are but small ripples on the surface, yet they show the current of your national thought. I should like to remind you how Schopenhauer predicted that the influence of Indian philosophy upon Europe would be as momentous when it became well known as was the revival of Greek and Latin learning at the close of the Dark Ages. Oriental research is making great progress; a new world of ideas is opening to the seeker after truth."_x000d_ "And is India finally to conquer her conquerors?"_x000d_ "Yes, in the world of ideas. England has the sword, the material world, as our Mohammedan conquerors had before her. Yet Akbar the Great became practically a Hindu; educated Mohammedans, the Sufis, are hardly to be distinguished from the Hindus; they do not eat beef, and in other ways conform to our usages. Their thought has become permeated by ours." _x000d_ "So, that is the fate you foresee for the lordly Sahib? Just at this moment he seems to be a long way off it."_x000d_ "No, it is not so remote as you imply. In the world of religious ideas, the Hindu and the Englishman have much in common, and there is proof of the same thing among other religious communities. Where the English ruler or civil servant has had any knowledge of India's literature, especially her philosophy, there exists the ground of a common sympathy, a territory constantly widening. It is not too much to say that only ignorance is the cause of that exclusive--sometimes even contemptuous--attitude assumed by some."_x000d_ "Yes, it is the measure of folly. Will you say why you went to America rather than to England on your mission?"_x000d_ "That was a mere accident--a result of the World's Parliament of Religions being held in Chicago at the time of the World's Fair, instead of in London, as it ought to have been. The Raja of Mysore and some other friends sent me to America as the Hindu representative. I stayed there three years, with the exception of last summer and this summer, when I came to lecture in London. The Americans are a great people, with a future before them. I admire them very much, and found many kind friends among them. They are less prejudiced than the English, more ready to weigh and examine a new idea, to value it in spite of its newness. They are most hospitable too; far less time is lost in showing one's credentials, as it were. You travel in America, as I did, from city to city, always lecturing among friends. I saw Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Des Moines, Memphis, and numbers of other places."_x000d_ "And leaving disciples in each of them?"_x000d_ "Yes, disciples, but not organisations. That is no part of my work. Of these there are enough in all conscience. Organisations need men to manage them; they must seek power, money, influence. Often they struggle for domination, and even fight."_x000d_ "Could the gist of this mission of yours be summed up in a few words? Is it comparative religion you want to preach?"_x000d_ "It is really the philosophy of religion, the kernel of all its outward forms. All forms of religion have an essential and a non-essential part. If we strip from them the latter, there remains the real basis of all religion, which all forms of religion possess in common. Unity is behind them all. We may call it God, Allah, Jehovah, the Spirit, Love; it is the same unity that animates all life, from its lowest form to its noblest manifestation in man. It is on this unity that we need to lay stress, whereas in the West, and indeed everywhere, it is on the non-essential that men are apt to lay stress. They will fight and kill each other for these forms, to make their fellows conform. Seeing that the essential is love of God and love of man, this is curious, to say the least."_x000d_ "I suppose a Hindu could never persecute."_x000d_ "He never yet has done so; he is the most tolerant of all the races of men. Considering how profoundly religious he is, one might have thought that he would persecute those who believe in no God. The Jains regard such belief as sheer delusion, yet no Jain has even been persecuted. In India the Mohammedans were the first who ever took the sword."_x000d_ "What progress does the doctrine of essential unity make in England? Here we have a thousand sects."_x000d_ "They must gradually disappear as liberty and knowledge increase. They are founded on the non-essential, which by the nature of things cannot survive. The sects have served their purpose, which was that of an exclusive brotherhood on lines comprehended by those within it. Gradually we reach the idea of universal brotherhood by flinging down the walls of partition which separate such aggregations of individuals. In England the work proceeds slowly, possibly because the time is not yet ripe for it; but all the same, it makes progress. Let me call your attention to the similar work that England is engaged upon in India. Modern caste distinction is a barrier to India's progress. It narrows, restricts, separates. It will crumble before the advance of ideas._x000d_ "Yet some Englishmen, and they are not the least sympathetic to India nor the most ignorant of her history, regard caste as in the main beneficent. One may easily be too much Europeanised. You yourself condemn many of our ideals as materialistic."_x000d_ "True. No reasonable person aims at assimilating India to England; the body is made by the thought that lies behind it. The body politic is thus the expression of national thought, and in India, of thousands of years of thought. To Europeanise India is therefore an impossible and foolish task: the elements of progress were always actively present in India. As soon as a peaceful government was there, these have always shown themselves. From the time of the Upanishads down to the present day, nearly all our great Teachers have wanted to break through the barriers of caste, i.e. caste in its degenerate state, not the original system. What little good you see in the present caste clings to it from the original caste, which was the most glorious social institution. Buddha tried to re-establish caste in its original form. At every period of India's awakening, there have always been great efforts made to break down caste. But it must always be we who build up a new India as an effect and continuation of her past, assimilating helpful foreign ideas wherever they may be found. Never can it be they; growth must proceed from within. All that England can do is to help India to work out her own salvation. All progress at dictation of another, whose hand is at India's throat, is valueless in my opinion. The highest work can only degenerate when slave-labour produces it."_x000d_ "Have you given any attention to the Indian National Congress movement?"_x000d_ "I cannot claim to have given much; my work is in another part of the field. But I regard the movement as significant, and heartily wish it success. A nation is being made out of India's different races. I sometimes think they are no less various than the different peoples of Europe. In the past, Europe has struggled for Indian trade, a trade which has played a tremendous part in the civilisation of the world; its acquisition might almost be called a turning-point in the history of humanity. We see the Dutch, Portuguese, French, and English contending for it in succession. The discovery of America may be traced to the indemnification the Venetians sought in the far distant West for the loss they suffered in the East."_x000d_ "Where will it end?"_x000d_ "It will certainly end in the working out of India's homogeneity, in her acquiring what we may call democratic ideas. Intelligence must not remain the monopoly of the cultured few; it will be disseminated from higher to lower classes. Education is coming, and compulsory education will follow. The immense power of our people for work must be utilised. India's potentialities are great and will be called forth."_x000d_ "Has any nation ever been great without being a great military power?"_x000d_ "Yes," said the Swami without a moment's hesitation, "China has. Amongst other countries, I have travelled in China and Japan. Today, China is like a disorganised mob; but in the heyday of her greatness she possessed the most admirable organisation any nation has yet known. Many of the devices and methods we term modern were practised by the Chinese for hundreds and even thousands of years. Take competitive examination as an illustration."_x000d_ "Why did she become disorganised?"_x000d_ "Because she could not produce men equal to the system. You have the saying that men cannot be made virtuous by an Act of Parliament; the Chinese experienced it before you. And that is why religion is of deeper importance than politics, since it goes to the root, and deals with the essential of conduct."_x000d_ "Is India conscious of the awakening that you allude to?"_x000d_ "Perfectly conscious. The world perhaps sees it chiefly in the Congress movement and in the field of social reform; but the awakening is quite as real in religion, though it works more silently."_x000d_ "The West and East have such different ideals of life. Ours seems to be the perfecting of the social state. Whilst we are busy seeing to these matters, Orientals are meditating on abstractions. Here has Parliament been discussing the payment of the Indian army in the Sudan. All the respectable section of the Conservative press has made a loud outcry against the unjust decision of the Government, whereas you probably think the whole affair not worth attention."_x000d_ "But you are quite wrong", said the Swami, taking the paper and running his eyes over extracts from the Conservative Journals. "My sympathies in this matter are naturally with my country. Yet it reminds one of the old Sanskrit proverb: 'You have sold the elephant, why quarrel over the goad?' India always pays. The quarrels of politicians are very curious. It will take ages to bring religion into politics."_x000d_ "One ought to make the effort very soon all the same."_x000d_ "Yes, it is worth one's while to plant an idea in the heart of this great London, surely the greatest governing machine that has ever been set in motion. I often watch it working, the power and perfection with which the minutest vein is reached, its wonderful system of circulation and distribution. It helps one to realise how great is the Empire and how great its task. And with all the rest, it distributes thought. It would be worth a man's while to place some ideas in the heart of this great machine, so that they might circulate to the remotest part."_x000d_ The Swami is a man of distinguished appearance. Tall, broad, with fine features enhanced by his picturesque Eastern dress, his personality is very striking. By birth, he is a Bengali, and by education, a graduate of the Calcutta University. His gifts as an orator are high. He can speak for an hour and a half without a note or the slightest pause for a word._x000d_ C.S.B

More than a decade has passed since a young German student, one of eight children of a not very well-to-do clergyman, heard on a certain day Professor Lassen lecturing on a language and literature new--very new even at that time--to European scholars, namely, Sanskrit. The lectures were of course free; for even now it is impossible for any one in any European University to make a living by teaching Sanskrit, unless indeed the University backs him._x000d_ Lassen was almost the last of that heroic band of German scholars, the pioneers of Sanskrit scholarship in Germany. Heroic certainly they were--what interest except their pure and unselfish love of knowledge could German scholars have had at that time in Indian literature? The veteran Professor was expounding a chapter of Shakuntala; and on that day there was no one present more eagerly and attentively listening to Lassen's exposition than our young student. The subject-matter of the exposition was of course interesting and wonderful, but more wonderful was the strange language, the strange sounds of which, although uttered with all those difficult peculiarities that Sanskrit consonants are subjected to in the mouths of unaccustomed Europeans, had strange fascination for him. He returned to his lodgings, but that night sleep could not make him oblivious of what he had heard. A glimpse of a hitherto unknown land had been given to him, a land far more gorgeous in its colours than any he had yet seen, and having a power of fascination never yet experienced by his young and ardent soul._x000d_ Naturally his friends were anxiously looking forward to the ripening of his brilliant parts, and expected that he would soon enter a learned profession which might bring him respect, fame, and, above all, a good salary and a high position. But then there was this Sanskrit! The vast majority of European scholars had not even heard of it then; as for making it pay--I have already said that such a thing is impossible even now. Yet his desire to learn it was strong._x000d_ It has unfortunately become hard for us modern Indians to understand how it could be like that; nevertheless, there are to be met with in Varanasi and Nadia and other places even now, some old as well as young persons among our Pandits, and mostly among the Sannyasins, who are mad with this kind of thirst for knowledge for its own sake. Students, not placed in the midst of the luxurious surroundings and materials of the modern Europeanised Hindu, and with a thousand times less facilities for study, poring over manuscripts in the flickering light of an oil lamp, night after night, which alone would have been enough to completely destroy the eye-sight of the students of any other nation; travelling on foot hundreds of miles, begging their way all along, in search of a rare manuscript or a noted teacher; and wonderfully concentrating all the energy of their body and mind upon their one object of study, year in and year out, till the hair turns grey and the infirmity of age overtakes them--such students have not, through God's mercy, as yet disappeared altogether from our country. Whatever India now holds as a proud possession, has been undeniably the result of such labour on the part of her worthy sons in days gone by; and the truth of this remark will become at once evident on comparing the depth and solidity as well as the unselfishness and the earnestness of purpose of India's ancient scholarship with the results attained by our modern Indian Universities. Unselfish and genuine zeal for real scholarship and honest earnest thought must again become dominant in the life of our countrymen if they are ever to rise to occupy among nations a rank worthy of their own historic past. It is this kind of desire for knowledge which has made Germany what she is now--one of the foremost, if not the foremost, among the nations of the world._x000d_ Yes, the desire to learn Sanskrit was strong in the heart of this German student. It was long, uphill work--this learning of Sanskrit; with him too it was the same world-old story of successful scholars and their hard work, their privations and their indomitable energy--and also the same glorious conclusion of a really heroic achievement. He thus achieved success; and now--not only Europe, but all India knows this man, Paul Deussen, who is the Professor of Philosophy in the University of Kiel. I have seen professors of Sanskrit in America and in Europe. Some of them are very sympathetic towards Vedantic thought. I admire their intellectual acumen and their lives of unselfish labour. But Paul Deussen--or as he prefers to be called in Sanskrit, Deva-Sena--and the veteran Max Muller have impressed me as being the truest friends of India and Indian thought. It will always be among the most pleasing episodes in my life--my first visit to this ardent Vedantist at Kiel, his gentle wife who travelled with him in India, and his little daughter, the darling of his heart--and our travelling together through Germany and Holland to London, and the pleasant meetings we had in and about London._x000d_ The earliest schools of Sanskritists in Europe entered into the study of Sanskrit with more imagination than critical ability. They knew a little, expected much from that little, and often tried to make too much of what little they knew. Then, in those days even, such vagaries as the estimation of Shakuntala as forming the high watermark of Indian philosophy were not altogether unknown! These were naturally followed by a reactionary band of superficial critics, more than real scholars of any kind, who knew little or nothing of Sanskrit, expected nothing from Sanskrit studies, and ridiculed everything from the East. While criticising the unsound imaginativeness of the early school to whom everything in Indian literature was rose and musk, these, in their turn, went into speculations which, to say the least, were equally highly unsound and indeed very venturesome. And their boldness was very naturally helped by the fact that these over-hasty and unsympathetic scholars and critics were addressing an audience whose entire qualification for pronouncing any judgment in the matter was their absolute ignorance of Sanskrit. What a medley of results from such critical scholarship! Suddenly, on one fine morning, the poor Hindu woke up to find that everything that was his was gone; one strange race had snatched away from him his arts, another his architecture, and a third, whatever there was of his ancient sciences; why, even his religion was not his own! Yes--that too had migrated into India in the wake of a Pehlevi cross of stone! After a feverish period of such treading-on-each-other's-toes of original research, a better state of things has dawned. It has now been found out that mere adventure without some amount of the capital of real and ripe scholarship produces nothing but ridiculous failure even in the business of Oriental research, and that the traditions in India are not to be rejected with supercilious contempt, as there is really more in them than most people ever dream of._x000d_ There is now happily coming into existence in Europe a new type of Sanskrit scholars, reverential, sympathetic, and learned--reverential because they are a better stamp of men, and sympathetic because they are learned. And the link which connects the new portion of the chain with the old one is, of course, our Max Muller. We Hindus certainly owe more to him than to any other Sanskrit scholar in the West, and I am simply astonished when I think of the gigantic task which he, in his enthusiasm, undertook as a young man and brought to a successful conclusion in his old age. Think of this man without any help, poring over old manuscripts, hardly legible to the Hindus themselves, and in a language to acquire which takes a lifetime even in India--without even the help of any needy Pandit whose "brains could be picked", as the Americans say, for ten shillings a month, and a mere mention of his name in the introduction to some book of "very new researches"--think of this man, spending days and sometimes months in elucidating the correct reading and meaning of a word or a sentence in the commentary of Sayana (as he has himself told me), and in the end succeeding in making an easy road through the forest of Vedic literature for all others to go along; think of him and his work, and then say what he really is to us! Of course we need not all agree with him in all that he says in his many writings; certainly such an agreement is impossible. But agreement or no agreement, the fact remains that this one man has done a thousand times more for the preservation, spreading, and appreciation of the literature of our forefathers than any of us can ever hope to do, and he has done it all with a heart which is full of the sweet balm of love and veneration._x000d_ If Max Muller is thus the old pioneer of the new movement, Deussen is certainly one of its younger advance-guard. Philological interest had hidden long from view the gems of thought and spirituality to be found in the mine of our ancient scriptures. Max Muller brought out a few of them and exhibited them to the public gaze, compelling attention to them by means of his authority as the foremost philologist. Deussen, unhampered by any philological leanings and possessing the training of a philosopher singularly well versed in the speculations of ancient Greece and modern Germany, took up the cue and plunged boldly into the metaphysical depths of the Upanishads, found them to be fully safe and satisfying, and then equally boldly declared that fact before the whole world. Deussen is certainly the freest among scholars in the expression of his opinion about the Vedanta. He never stops to think about the "What they would say" of the vast majority of scholars. We indeed require bold men in this world to tell us bold words about truth; and nowhere is this more true now than in Europe where, through the fear of social opinion and such other causes, there has been enough in all conscience of the whitewashing and apologising attitude among scholars towards creeds and customs which, in all probability, not many among them really believe in. The greater is the glory, therefore, to Max Muller and to Deussen for their bold and open advocacy of truth! May they be as bold in showing to us our defects, the later corruptions in our thought-systems in India, especially in their application to our social needs! Just now we very much require the help of such genuine friends as these to check the growing virulence of the disease, very prevalent in India, of running either to the one extreme of slavish panegyrists who cling to every village superstition as the innermost essence of the Shastras, or to the other extreme of demoniacal denouncers who see no good in us and in our history, and will, if they can, at once dynamite all the social and spiritual organisations of our ancient land of religion and philosophy.

Nor was the Professor's interest solely in India's great spiri¬tual past; he had also sought out its living present. He had "a deep, unfathomable respect for Sri Ramakrishna,"58 which particularly endeared him to Swamiji. In April of 1896 he had sent Swamiji the following postcard, the first of their communications:_x000d_ 2 April 96_x000d_ Dear Sir, Accept my best thanks for your interesting pamphlet. I believe you are a pupil of Rama Krishna Paramahansa, whom I have always sincerely admired. I hope you will continue your work in America and make both Sankara and Ramanuja widely known._x000d_ Yours faithfully_x000d_ F. Max Muller

Swamiji must have replied warmly, for later in the same month Max Muller wrote to him with less formality, opening his heart:_x000d_ _x000d_ As for your beloved master of blessed memory, Bhagaban Sri Ram Krishan, how can I ever tell you what he is to me, I love and worship him with my whole heart. To think of him makes my eyes fill with tears of gladness that I was permitted to hear of him. His sayings, published in the Brahmavadin, are my greatest delight. How wonderful that his teachings should have been borne to this far-off land where we had never even known of his existence! If I might only have known him, while he was yet with us! My greatest desire is to one day visit the spot which [was] sanctified by his presence, while he lived, and I may be so fortunate as to fulfil the wish.

"I should say that I went [not to pay a visit but] to pay my respects to [Max Muller]," Swamiji would write, "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 class lectures, as they were called, were held in the drawing room on the first floor of the house (the second floor by American reckoning). In Mahendra Datta's memory, this room, which was divided by supporting iron pillars into two parts, was large, accommodating about 150 people. But a more recent visitor to the house found it small, able to seat at the utmost about 100. The house itself, like so many London houses of that era, was narrow and cramped, squeezed by its neighbors. Following Mahendra's memory (greatly aided by a more recent account),* let us go quickly from bottom to top of its five floors: In the basement, below street level, were the Kitchen, storerooms, and servant quarters. On the floor above the ground floor-was the entrance hall and to its right the parlour. This room, which had one tall window looking over the iron-fenced areaway to the street, was used by Swamiji (and the others) as a sitting room and dining room combined. Behind it were two small rooms, in one of which he slept, and beyond them was a small lavatory. Swamiji's bedroom is of singular interest; it not only was small, but had no windows. What daylight and air there were came across the adjoining rooms through glass panels (some of which could, presumably, be opened) in the upper part of the walls. (Some years later, Swamiji was goaded into speaking plainly to Mr. Sturdy in regard to his accommodations in London. "There too (at St. George's Road]," he wrote, "I don't remember to have had any luxuries-as to food or drink or bed or even the room given me. (The italics are his.)_x000d_ * Swami Yogeshananda, then Assistant Secretary of the Ramakrishna Vedanta Centre in London, obtained entry into the house at 63, St. George’s Road in June of 1973, shortly before its interior was completely remodeled into separate flats. The description of the house given in tis book relies heavily on the Swami’s on-the-spot observation and photographs.

The floor above (the first floor), to which a narrow stairway led, was, as noted before, given over to the double drawing room where Swamiji held his classes. Above this was the second floor, one room of which-surely the front and larger one-was occupied by Miss Muller, and the other by Mr. Sturdy. (Lucie Sturdy and the baby, Ambrose, remained at Caversham.) Proceeding upward, one came to the bathroom¬ the bathroom-off the landing between the second and third floors. The third floor contained a large room, probably the same size as the double drawing room, in which several people could sleep. Ordinarily, this was the nursery for the Margesson children; now it was occupied by Swami Saradananda and Mahendra. As in all the rooms, there was a fireplace here and, uniquely, a rocking horse by the street wall. Above this was the garret, a long, narrow room with dormer windows and a sloping ceiling. Here slept Goodwin.*_x000d_ * The sleeping quarters at 63 St. George’s Road may have been rearranged from time to time with, for instance, the temporary stay of John Fox and, later, the advent of a new cook.

The household, on the whole, was youthful. Miss Muller, around forty-five, was the oldest by at least nine years. Swamiji was thirty-three; Swami Saradananda, thirty; and Mr. Sturdy, thirty-six. The other young men were well under thirty: Mahendra was twenty-six; Goodwin, twenty-five; and John Fox, who would be spending much of his time in the house after the first week of June, was twenty-three. It was, moreover, an exceptionally lively household, for at its center was a tremendous charge of spiritual energy. Not only did Swamiji manifest enormous power during his classes, of which we shall say more later, but it poured from him as well (though in different aspects at different times) during his everyday life¬a life which had its hub in the ground-floor parlor. Here everyone congregated to eat, work, and talk. It was not a large room. There was a round central table, four or five chairs, a secretary or writing table, and, in a corner near the fireplace, opposite the hall door, an easy chair for Swamiji. The ceiling was decorated with a lotus design molded in plaster; the walls, we can be reasonably sure, were patterned with gilt-framed pictures against a patterned paper; the window was draped, the floor carpeted.

Again, there would be tales of human evil in the news that filled him with despair and disgust. "A race begins to rot from the inside first," he said one morning in connection with the biggest London scandal of the day; "then comes an enemy and destroys it. If this race goes on in this way, its fall is assured. From social' evil every other evil follows."14 Sturdy and Good¬win could only agree. But at other times there were fervent patriotic outbursts from the two Englishmen and heated argu¬ments, Goodwin upholding the abstract glory of the British Empire, Swamiji pointing out its flagrant transgressions and injustices, with all the evidence of history behind him, until the young man would be silenced.

Generally, the day began around nine o'clock when Swamiji came into the parlor for breakfast, still wearing his dressing gown and slippers. The early morning had been his own: perhaps he had slept late after a sleepless night; more likely, he had remained in deep meditation or in ecstasy (he would speak at least once of such solitary and luminous hours to the others). His breakfast, which the old housekeeper would bring up from the kitchen, was no doubt eggless and certainly meatless, for Mr. Sturdy and Miss Muller were strict vegetarians, as nowadays was Goodwin.

After breakfast, Swamiji would sit in his easy chair and talk to Goodwin and Swami Saradananda, while Mr. Sturdy worked on his English translation of some Sanskrit scripture that he hoped to bring out as No. 2 of the "Indian Ideals" series, of which the Narada Sutra, then recently published, was No.1 (Such publications were one way of spreading the ideals of Vedanta, for in those days English translations of Sanskrit works were rare, hard to come by, and on the whole unreadable. Indeed, as we have seen in an earlier chapter, one of the reasons Swamiji had called a brother disciple to England was to suit in the work of translating. Swami Saradananda no doubt helped with whatever text Mr. Sturdy had chosen as No. 2. But whatever it was, it seems never to have been published.)

The news in the morning papers would sometimes lead to discussion, during which Swamiji's heart seems to have been stabbed by the anguish everywhere in the world. There was, for instance, the catastrophe that had taken place at the coronation of Czar Nicholas II. The vast, poorly organized crowd had surged out of hand, and of the thousands of peasants who had come from far-off villages to procure-gratis, perhaps an enameled coronation cup, 2000 had died, crushed, trampled by one another, and shot at by the overwrought police. Mr. Sturdy and Mr. Goodwin had much to say about the barbarous conditions in Russia, as opposed to the civilized and orderly conditions in England. But Swamiji remained silent, grave. Then suddenly he exclaimed, "What misery! What suffering! For the sake of one cup all those people left their villages and came to the city! And so many killed! How poor the country is! They have given their lives for a two-bit enameled glass! And he began to walk the floor, his eyes deep with sorrow.

One of the first matters to be settled was the fate of Mr. Sturdy's pamphlets of Swamiji's New York lectures, which, as we have seen in the last chapter, Sturdy had printed on his own authority. To repeat, there were four such pamphlets, duplicating those already brought out by the New York Vedanta Society. In addition, Mr. Sturdy had printed a pamphlet consisting of at least some of Swamiji's New York raja yoga classes, which production interfered with the proposed American publication of an altered and enlarged manuscript.* It was now agreed, in line with a cable Mr. Goodwin, with Mrs. Bull's concurrence, had sent to Sturdy in April, that the first four English pamphlets be published and distributed by Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Company, a reputable publishing firm, with whom Mr. Sturdy had earlier started negotiations. The four pam¬phlets were to be published in three booklets: Karma Yoga; Bhakti Yoga; and The Ideal of a Universal Religion and The Cosmos. As for Raja Yoga, the version that was to have been published in America was a good-sized manuscript, which included Swamiji's translation of and class-commentary on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Swamiji had brought the manuscript with him, but arrangement for its publication were still unclear, largely because Mr. Sturdy had been unable to fathom the contradictory and highly complicated letters regarding copy¬right laws that he had received from various members of the American Publication Committee. The complexities of this correspondence between Mr. Sturdy, Mr. Goodyear, Mrs. Goodyear, Ms. Fox on behalf of Mrs. Bull, and Mrs. Bull'' herself were compounded not only by the transatlantic time lag but by the question of whether or not Mr. Sturdy's "Raja Yoga" pamphlet should be distributed in America.** Opinions varied._x000d_ _x000d_ * Mr. Sturdy’s publication of Bhakti Yoga was also a source of trouble in some respects. Swamiji had earlier sent his New York articles and classes on bhakti yoga to Alasinga for publication first in the Brahmavadin and then in book form. In October of 1896 he would write to Alasinga, who had finally brought out the book, “I received your Bhakti Yoga and Universal Religion. The Bh[akti] must have a good sale in U.S. In London the short edition [published by Sturdy] has already forestalled the sale I am afraid” (original letter, Belur Math)._x000d_ _x000d_ ** Some of this multiway correspondence is extant among the papers of Mrs. Ole Bull, but the reader is spared it.

"Until the Swami & I reached London," Goodwin would write to Mrs. Bull on July 19 of 1896, "Mr. Sturdy was very much at a loss to know what it was desired that he should do in the matter , and the fact that letters of instruction, often "contradictory to some extent, came from Mr Goodyear & others & clashed with those from yourself, made it more difficult still for him to do anything._x000d_ Mrs.Bull's letters to Mr. Sturdy written in late April are not available today, but there can be little doubt that they contain long illegible passages of the unique circumlocution peculiar to her more formal correspondence. On May 8, Swamiji took matters in hand. His letter of that date to Mrs. Bull, not heretofore published, read in full:

Where and when it was given is not clear, but the event was particularly memorable. Mr. Hammond wrote:

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 recognized this element 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 bills, 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 my 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 has a new glad meaning and is altogether transformed for me."

"I will tell you how I came to know the Truth," continued the Swami, and in the telling they learned something of the earth-life of Shri Ramakrishna; the sublime simplicity of his character; his indefatigable search for Truth in this religious 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 he 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. Everything, every single thing, all he was himself, all he 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." _x000d_ 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 my words is good and true and eternal came to me from his mouth, his heart, his soul. Shri 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 himself 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 for his teaching was due not to himself but to his Master. Indeed, only a true disciple can he a true master.

With Raja Yoga "well under way," everyone was happy. Indeed Swamiji was often in a spontaneously playful and joyous mood. But however spontaneous it might have been, no mood could be his master. Mahendra tells us of one occasion, typical, surely, of many, when the playful child became the World Guru in no more time and with no more fuss than it takes to turn over a coin. It was a little while before the morning class. Mr. Sturdy had finished his translating work and had gone upstairs; Swamiji had changed into his gerua robe with its silk sash. The late morning traffic could be seen through the parlor window, which looked directly onto the street. Horse-drawn carriages and cabs were passing by; men and women were walking along unhurried, some, perhaps, entering the house. Looking out the window, Swamiji suddenly began to improvise a song that his younger brother remembered as: "Umbrella in hand, hat on the head; pretty girls with basketfuls of flour on their faces." So comic the words and so "droll and mysterious" the tune, that Mahendra went, into fits of laughter. To Swami Saradananda, Swamiji said, "Just see! The ladies have put so much powder on their faces it could be scraped up with a hoe!" It was nearly class time, but Swamiji's mood remained playful. Iaughing, joking, and poking one another in the ribs like a pair of children, he and Swami Saradananda started up the stairs to the lecture room, Mahendra following. And as they went, Swamiji became totally transformed. The laughter and play disappeared; he became profoundly grave and withdrawn. Swami Saradananda fell behind, silent. It was not the playful child who entered the first-floor drawing room, where people had assembled; it was the majestic knower of God, the World Teacher.

Interestingly, Mr. Sturdy did not look upon Swamiji's London classes with the same selfless universality with which he had viewed his New York classes. In his letter of May 12 to Mrs. Bull, Mr. Goodwin wrote:

I am sending you the two first lectures, but please keep them entirely to yourself. If you will do so; I think you had better not let Mr Fox or anyone else see them, or let the N. Y. people know anything of them, as Mr Sturdy does not wish to risk the chance of their being used. I rather fancy he is taking a one sided view of things. Of course the old saying "Set a thief to catch a thief" wd not apply, but there is just a suspicion of ego about him, both in relation to this &, to the work here. At the same time his judgement is good, & so. are his connections.

(Actually, Mr. Goodwin sent not two but six class transcripts_x000d_ # _x000d_ to Mrs. Bull. On the envelope of the above letter he wrote this postscript: "I find the postage on the lectures, which are bulky, is heavy. So shall send half a dozen on Sat'y by express." By Saturday, May 16, Swamiji would, to be sure, have given half a dozen lectures, including an unscheduled one at the Sesame Club. And so careful was Mrs. Bull to keep these talks to her¬self', as Goodwin had asked, that even today only one of them has been published-that of May 14 and only recently a second transcript discovered-that of May 7, an excerpt from which has been given above.)

As we have seen in Swamiji's letter of May 8 to Mrs. Bull, the attendance at his first two classes, which he had held the day before, had not been up to expectations, any effective advance publicity having been blocked, Mr. Sturdy might have pointed out, by the "American Syndicate." But however that may have been, Mr. Goodwin was present taking his shorthand notes, and on May 12 he wrote to Mrs. Bull, giving her a brief resume of Swamiji's first three talks. Since his notes of those talks have not been published, the pertinent portion of his letter is given here in full :

The Swami began last Thursday with two classes-in which he took up the history of the Vedanta. In the morning he traced the history of the Aryan Race-its division into the European branches on the one hand, & the Hindu branches on the other, & showed how the Aryan language permeates all European languages except the Basque &. The Hungarian, & the Tartar (if it may be called European). Then he traced the influence of the old stock on Modern Science. In the evening he followed this up by tracing the influence of the Vedas & the Vedanta on Western religious thought-through the Buddhists, who took it to Persia &.Greece-through the Arabs who took it from Persia, & also, to some extent, from India direct in the course of their commerce. From the Arabs to Greece & Spain. How from Spain it spread to Rome, by means of a Pope educated at a Moorish University at Toledo. [Mr. Goodwin may have misunderstood Swamiji. At Toledo, the Archbishop Raymond (ca. 1130) commissioned a corps of translators to render Arabic works into Latin. The greatest of the translators was Gerard of Cremona (1114- 1187). Another Gerard (also of Cremona) of the thirteenth century translated Avicenna at the order of the emperor Frederic II.] Then through Alfazil [Al-Farabi?] and Avicenna, the Arab philosophers, to Thomas Aquinas, who took up their philosophy [and] who was, in turn, preached by Abelard. Today [the morning class of Tuesday, May 12] he traced the evolution of the Upanishads as the religion of the people in India-from the earlier sacrificial religion of the days of priestcraft.

On Tuesday last, the Swami lectured on education at the Sesame Club. It is a respectable club got up by women for diffusing female education. In this he dealt with the old educational system 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. He held that the mind of man is an infinite reservoir of knowledge and all knowledge present and past or future is within man, manifested or non-manifested, and the object of every system of education should be to help the mind to manifest it. For instance the Law of Gravitation was within man, and the fall of the apple helped Newton to think upon it and bring it out from within his mind.

After the Sesame Club lecture the attendance at Swamiji's classes began to grow. In the same news-letter Swami Saradananda was able to report:

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. . . . In the class lectures he has begun with Gnana Yoga. A shorthand report of these lectures is being taken down by Mr. Goodwin, who is a great admirer of the Swami; and will be published later on:

Around the same time in May as Swami Saradananda sent the above to the Brahmavadin, the Queen; the Lady’s Newspaper, published the following, as quoted in the Indian Mirror of June 3 1896:

Here in London; Swami Vivekananda has been holding class lectures, 63, St. George's Road, S.W., every Tuesday and 'Thursday, both in the morning. and evening. The number of his students has been increasing very rapidly. He has; therefore opened a question class which he holds every Friday, at 8-30 P.M. It is a great wonder indeed, that the Swami has been able to attract, from the very commencement of the course of his lectures; so many men in a materialistic city like London; where none cares a fig for religion, where, politics reigns supreme in the minds of the people, especially now at the time of the London season-the season of balls, feasts and all sorts of entertainments, He, who has once listened to the great Swami, is tempted to attend every lecture that he delivers. We cannot but own that the man possesses a great magnetic power or some power divine by which he even draws so many Londoners towards him. Many a lady and many learned man here have become his students. Today Rev. Canon Haweis, a very learned man, came to his class. He has at once marvelled at his lectures.

In front of the two windows at the street end was a table and chair, beside which Swamiji stood. In the middle of the aide wall to his right was the fireplace, and between this and the windows was a table where Goodwin would sit to take notes, his back to the room. Along the far wall of the room was a large spring sofa, on which Mr. Sturdy, Mahendra, and, later on, John Fox used to sit, acting more on less as ushers-Mr. Sturdy being the usher-in-chief. In addition, there were, of course, other chairs both hard and soft in the room, many of them no doubt borrowed or rented for the classes. The French windows behind and to the left of where Swamiji stood opened into a balcony that extended over the front vestibule. Here, when the weather permitted, several people could sit comfortably.

To the morning classes more women came than men, and some were noteworthy. Near the French window of the balcony, just behind Swamiji, there sat, for instance, a slender young woman in the unmistakable nurse’s uniform of the 1890s, whose name no one ever learned. She attended every class, coming and going silently. Perhaps many another member of the audience came and went silently, anonymously; the thing that marked the nurse off from the others and that makes us want to know her name was that she invariably took shorthand notes of every thing Swamiji said. Goodwin, it is true, also took shorthand notes of Swamiji's classes in May and through most of June-but as far as anyone knows to date, most of his notes have been irretrievably lost.

By contrast, another woman came every morning "too late to hear a word," as Swamiji would recall months later, buttonholed him immediately after the class and kept him talking "till a battle of Waterloo would be raging in my internal economy through hunger.

Then there was the stout, white-haired old lady from Sydenham in far southeast London. She came every class day, part of the way by carriage and part, to save expense, on foot. Once, when she seemed heated from the exertion of climbing the stairs, Mahendra gave her a fan, and they entered into conversation. "I love the Swami's talks," she told him. "I can't understand much of the philosophy, but his voice and gestures charm me. I seem to be seeing someone out of the Bible.

And there was the middle-aged woman who had been born in Moscow and had spent her youth there. While in Russia she had had a dream which she now related with much emotion. In the dream she was led to a sailing ship by a luminous man; it was a black night, and the ship set sail in a boundless sea. She was afraid. Then another man, whose face she saw very clearly, said to her, "There is no fear. Even in the dark the ship will go to its destination." Her fear left, and she awoke. For many years thereafter she had searched in vain for that face in both Russia and England. Then in October of 1895 she attended Swamiji's lecture at Prince's Hall, and there he was, the man in her dream.

Another visitor to the morning class was distinguished in quite a different way. She was not a regular attendant; indeed, as far as we know, she came only once, but that once, Mahendra tells us, caused all the other ladies to turn to look at her and to whisper among themselves, After she left, driving off in her carriage, the others told Swamiji with bated breath that she was the Duchess of Albany, the widow of Queen Victoria's youngest son, Leopold. She had come incognito so she had intended. (On another and later occasion we shall again find some incognito members of the Royal Household attending one of Swamiji's talks.)

In a few of his letters Swamiji mentions the Galsworthys, who seem to have attended his classes with some regularity. The family was known to Miss MacLeod and was almost certainly that of the Galsworthy who was later to become a famous author. Assuming that it was, it is possible that the as yet unknown and unpublished John Galsworthy attended some of the meetings that Mr. Sturdy had conducted for a time during Swamiji's absence in America. "I have very enthusiastic accounts of your classes from Miss MacLeod," Swamiji had written to Sturdy on January 16, 1896. "Mr. Galsworthy seems to be very much interested now. This, could have been the young John. Brought up to be a well-mannered, well-educated scion of a wealthy Father and trained to practice law, John Galsworthy had not appeared to be anything but an average young man of the upper middle class. But in the early nineties a marked change had come over him. Various influences outside his affluent circle began to mold and awaken his mind; he became aware that a richer and more meaningful life was possible; simultaneously he discovered the abject poverty that existed in London. He haunted the slums, deeply moved by the misery he saw. Further, he fell in love with a young woman who urged him to write. In this sensitive period of transition from conventional dandy and potential man-of property to serious author, it is not unlikely that in 1896 John Galsworthy, then twenty-nine, found in Vedanta a needed ideal and rudder.* Although some misunderstanding seems to have arisen between Swamiji and the Galsworthys, Miss MacLeod evidently straightened it out. In July of 1896, Swamiji wrote to Mr. Francis Legett, "The Galesworthys have been very very kind!" Joe brought them around splendidly. Mrs. Galsworthy, the mother of the family, is said by her irritated children to have had a narrow and superficial mind, like that of many English women of her generation. "The Queen, the Royal family, the Church, the structure of Society, all to her were final," her son noted. "Almost at once-if we talked-a kind of irritation would begin in me, a sort of inward railing at the closed door I perceived in her mind. Mrs. Galsworthy may not have very often attended Swamiji's classes (one hopes she was there when the Duchess of Albany came), but her daughters were of another mind. The two young ladies belonged to the generation of women who were pushing toward freedom; their minds were breaking the bonds of. A closed society; they were intellectual, art-loving, talented, open to new ideas, encouraged in pursuing them by their father. Surely one could have often found the Galsworthy daughters, the elder of whom was married, at 63 St. George's Road._x000d_ * One wonders if the Mr. Galsworthy of Swamiji’s letters was not the father of the family rather than the son. The senior

Miss MacLeod, who was then in London, would surely sweep in, dressed in the best Paris style and looking very elegant indeed among the conservative English women. Miss Margaret Noble from Wimbledon would attend whenever she could, bringing the Hammonds. The Reverend and Mrs. R. H. Haweis came often, and very probably Canon Wilbedorce, together with his wife and daughter, came more than once. A Miss Emmeline Souter, who was a friend of the Reverend Mr. Haweis and who would later contribute to Swamiji's Indian work, often at¬tended, as did Mrs. Ashton Jonson, one of the secretaries of the Sesame Club. And then there would be Captain and Mrs. Sevier, who had somehow found Swamiji and who were to become two of his most devoted and loyal followers. Like Margaret Noble, they would quite literally (and sooner than she) leave all that they had to follow him, giving themselves gently, steadily, and without stint to his work. Captain Sevier was a retired army officer who had served for five years in India and, as Swamiji would write to Alasinga, "knows India a good deal." Both he and his wife, Charlotte Elizabeth, were around forty-nine years old in 1896 and lived quietly in Hampstead, a suburb of London, to which the steam-driven Underground did not then reach. Although on first hearing Swamiji they had both known that this was what each had always been seeking, they could have had little idea that within two months or less they would be his hosts in the Alps. Nor could they have known that within a year they would be living and working in the Himalayas-he to die there in the fall of 1900. They came unobtrusively to his classes, among the many who sat in the double drawing room absorbed in the powerful words that were becoming a part of their being and changing their thought and their lives.

Some of those who attended Swamiji's talks were, it is said, lifted into a state bordering on samadhi; some, on the other hand, may have been deeply disturbed by these strange new ideas that seemed to blast away the very fabric of their accustomed worlds. Some were glorified; some were afraid; none could have been left unmoved. The morning class usually lasted for an hour and a half or so. Afterwards, it is more than probable that Swamiji talked for a time with those who pressed around him, his mood changing from that of the awe-inspiring teacher whom one might hesitate to approach to that of the friend, jovial, informal, and accessible.

Often, he would go out to lunch, sometimes with Miss MacLeod and a friend or two, sometimes with people who struck Mahendra as very important personages. Once, indeed, Swamiji had a luncheon engagement with a "a duke in Park Lane,"-which he had totally forgotten until, in the nick of time, he chanced to consult his engagement book. He rushed to get ready, "Goodwin whirling like a spinning wheel" to help him. A carriage was hailed, and off he went, not to return until very late that night. Thus, not only through his classes, but through his friendships with all kinds of people, Swamiji brought the best of India's religious culture to England: "From now on," Mahendra heard him remark to Swami Saradananda, "they will see India with new eyes.

Lunch at home had its tensions.. There was Henrietta Muller, who seemed to be "an old woman" to Mahendra and who some times wore, he said, “a man’s suit (very probably a stylish sporting costume with a tightfitting, broad-lapelled jacket and a skirt that rose a daring four inches from the floor). Miss Muller had some very definite opinions. Mahendra describes an exchange that took place one day when she expressed her disapproval of the old cows in India, remarking that in England such unproductive and suffering animals would be forthwith done away with. At this, Swami Saradananda mildly asked why the English did not, then, do away with their parents when they became old. What Miss Muller, who was much devoted to her elderly mother, replied is not known, but whatever it may have been, it was her last word to the Swami for three days. "You see, Sharat; ' Swamiji told his brother disciple when he heard of this contretemps, "in this country there are two kinds of old maids: some grow fat-they are even ¬tempered and comfortable; the others get dried up and are peevish. You must take great care how you act around them. Stand up when they come into the room; ask `How are you?'; quickly give them whatever they want; try to pacify them.

As for Miss Muller, Swamiji would at times gently chide her "We are all monomanics. I am a monomaniac for my preaching of Vedanta; you are a monomaniac for your whims. The world is full of monomaniaca. One of Miss Muller's main grievances was the cooking done by the elderly housekeeper, who had, no doubt, been engaged by Mr. Sturdy. One day, Mahendra reports, "she grumbled and grumbled about the food, got dressed up and went off to her relatives." Swamiji was much annoyed. "Nothing but quarrels! Let her stay with her family for a while; she will cool off and come back. And so she did, bringing another cook, whose British method of boiling rice threw Swami Saradananda and Mahendra into such spasms of choked laughter that another row was barely avoided.

Swamiji was himself not always enthusiastic about the monotonous English fare at St. George's Road. Even the basket of choice fruit sent almost daily by an anonymous admirer could not make up for a diet of long-boiled vegetables and potatoes. Now and then he would go down to the kitchen with the spices Swami Saradananda had brought to him from India and create a splendid curry. "Last night I made a dish," he wrote to Mary Hale on May 30. "It was such a delicious mixture of saffron, lavender, mace, nutmeg, cubebs, cinnamon, doves, cardamom, cream, lime juice, onions, raisins, almonds, pepper, and rice, that I myself could not eat it. There was no asafoetida, though that would have made it smoother to swallow. The event immediately preceding the creation of that dish had been something of an ordeal for Swamiji. Miss Muller had taken him to see a "marriage a la mode." "One of her nieces was married to somebody's nephew I suppose. What tiring nonsense! Certainly the only thing to do after that was rush to the kitchen and cook "'a la Indian."

Spitalhaugh_x000d_ West Linton [Scotland]_x000d_ 22 June 96_x000d_ My dear Mr. Vivekananda_x000d_ Accept my best thanks for your most interesting communication. I wish I had had it when I wrote my article on Rama Krishna which will, I hope, appear in the July number of the xix Century. Just now I am very busy with proof sheets, and a new edition of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason and several other matters. But I have several questions to ask you about your great Guru, and I should be obliged if you would let me have your address._x000d_ What I should like to do would be to rewrite my article on R.K., with a complete collection of his sayings, properly arranged according to their subjects. Do you think that your friends would help me to do that._x000d_ Yours very truly_x000d_ F. Max Muller.

"Max Muller wants all the sayings of Shri Ramakrishna classified, that is, all on Karma in one place, on Vairagya in another place, so on Bhakti, Jnana, etc, etc. You must undertake to do this forthwith. . . . We must take care to present only the universal aspect of his teachings. Later on, Swamiji was to send Max Muller "a full description of his Master's life," upon which the Professor based his book The Life and Sayings of Ramakrishna, It was in respect to this, however, that the Professor was to deal Swamiji something of a blow, or, at least, one thinks, to cause him disappointment. But of this we shall speak in a later chapter.

... 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.... _x000d_ The Professor was first induced to inquire about the power behind, which led to sudden and momentous changes in the life of the late Keshab 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." _x000d_ 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, over-riding opposition and contempt, and at last creating 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 Brahmarshis and Rajarshis, the days of the great Vanaprasthas, the days of Arundhatis and Vasishthas. _x000d_ It was neither the philologist nor the scholar that I saw, but a soul that is every day realizing its oneness with the Brahman, a heart, that is every moment expanding to reach oneness with the Universal.... _x000d_ ... 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 heartfelt love, till they have all sunk into his very soul and coloured his whole being. Max Muller is a Vedantist of Vedantists…. _x000d_ "When are you coming to India? Every heart there would welcome one who has 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 completed an article on Shri Ramakrishna entitled "A Real Mahatman". The article, which appeared in the August 1896 issue of the Nineteenth Century, had been written out of information and material gathered from India. Now, in the enthusiasm with which the Swami had inspired him, Professor Muller was eager to know more about the Master and asked, "What are, you doing to make him known to the world?" He said that he would be glad to write a larger and fuller account of his life and teaching provided more facts and details were given to him. The Swami at once commissioned Swami Saradananda to communicate with India and to collect as much as possible of the sayings of Shri Ramakrishna and the facts concerning his life. This was done and the Professor set to work embodying them in a book that was, published under the title Ramakrishna: His Life and Sayings. This volume, which contains a number of the Master's sayings, breathes a fervid devotional and yet critical spirit and has aided materially in giving the Swami's mission a firmer hold on the English-speaking world. He and the Professor were frequent correspondents and fast friends; only in matters of philosophical criticism did they sometimes differ.

By the end of the first week in May the Swami had settled down at 63 St. George's Road. He had already prepared the working field in London. He was now ready for the hard labour that he knew would be necessary to meet the earnestness of many seekers of truth — not only those with whom he had already become acquainted the previous year and who now welcomed him back most eagerly, but those whom he would newly come to know.

The visit at Pinkney's Green could not have lasted for more than five days, for on Wednesday, May 6, Swamiji was in London at 63 St. George's Road. There were two receptions on that day, morning and evening, "at which arrangements were definitely made for the classes."

Bhakti-Yoga is the path of systematised devotion for the attainment of union with the Absolute. It is the easiest and surest path to religion or realisation._x000d_ Love to God is the one essential to be perfect in this path._x000d_ There are five stages of love._x000d_ First, man wants help and has a little fear._x000d_ Second, when God is seen as Father._x000d_ Third, when God is seen as Mother. Then all women are looked upon as reflections of the Mother-God. With the idea of Mother-God real love begins. _x000d_ Fourth, love for love's sake. Love for love's sake transcends all qualities._x000d_ Fifth, love in Divine-union. It leads to oneness or superconsciousness. _x000d_ God is both Personal and Impersonal as we are personal and impersonal. _x000d_ Prayer and praise are the first means of growth. Repeating the names of God has wonderful power. _x000d_ Mantra is a special word, or sacred text, or name of God choosen by the Guru for repetition and reflection by the disciple. The disciple must concentrate on a personality for prayer and praise, and that is his Ishta. _x000d_ These words (Mantras) are not sounds of words but God Himself, and we have them within us. Think of Him, speak of Him. No desire for the world! Buddhas's Sermon on the Mount was, "As thou thinkest, so art thou."_x000d_ After attaining superconsiousness the Bhakta descends again to love and worship._x000d_ Pure love has no motive. It has nothing to gain._x000d_ After prayer and praise comes meditation. Then comes reflection on the name and on the Ishta of the individual. _x000d_ Pray that that manifestation which is our Father, our Mother, may cut our bonds._x000d_ Pray, "Take us by the hand as a father takes his son, and leave us not."_x000d_ Pray, "I do not want wealth or beauty, this world or another, but Thee, O God! Lord! I have become weary. Oh, take me by the hand, Lord, I take shelter with Thee. Make me Thy servant. Be Thou my refuge."_x000d_ Pray, "Thou our Father, our Mother, our dearest Friend! Thou who bearest this universe, help us to bear the little burden of this our life. Leave us not. Let us never be separated from Thee. Let us always dwell in Thee."_x000d_ When love to God is revealed and is all, this world appears like a drop._x000d_ Pass from non-existence to existence, from darkness to light.

[A Jnâna Yoga class delivered in London, England, on Thursday morning, May 7, 1896, and recorded_x000d_ by Mr. Josiah J. Goodwin]_x000d_ I have told you how I would divide the subject into four Yogas, but, as the bearing of all these various Yogas is the same__the goal they want to arrive at is the same__I had better begin with the philosophical portion: the Jnana Yoga. Jnâna means knowledge, and, before going into the principles of the Vedanta philosophy, I think it is necessary to sketch in a few words the origin and the beginning and the development__the historical portion of that system. Most of you are now familiar with the words Arya and Aryan, and many things have been written on these words. _x000d_ About a century ago there was an English judge in Bengal, Sir William Jones. In India, you know, there are Mohammedans and Hindus. The Hindus were the original people, and the Mohammedans came and conquered them and ruled over them for seven hundred years. There have been many other conquests in India; and whenever there is a new conquest, the criminal laws of the country are changed. The criminal law is always the law of the conquering nation, but the civil law remains the same. So when the English conquered India, they changed the criminal law; but the civil law remained. The judges, however, were Englishmen and did not know the language of the country in which the civil laws were written, and so they had to take the help of interpreters, lawyers of India, and so on. And when any question about Indian law arose, these scholars would be referred to. _x000d_ One of these judges, Sir William Jones, was a very ripe scholar, and he wanted to go to the fountain head himself, to take up the language himself and study it, instead of relying upon these interpreters who, for instance, might be bribed to give any verdict. So he began to study the law of the Gentoos, as the Hindus were called. Gentoo is probably a form of the word gentile, used by the Portuguese and Spaniards__or "heathen", as you call it now. When the judge began to translate some of the books into English, he found that it was very hard to translate them correctly into English at first hand. What was his surprise when he found that if he translated them first into Latin, and next into English, it was much easier. Then he found in translating that a large number of Sanskrit words were almost the same as in Latin. It was he who introduced the study of San¬skrit to the Europeans. Then as the Germans were rising in scholarship__as well as the French__they took up the language and began to study it. _x000d_ With their tremendous power of analysis, the Germans found that there was a similarity between Sanskrit and all the European languages. Among the ancient languages, Greek was the nearest to it in resemblance. Later, it was found that there was a language called Lithuanian, spoken somewhere on the shores of the Baltic__an independent kingdom at that time and unconnected with Russia. The language of the Lithuanians is strikingly similar to Sanskrit. Some of the Lithuanian sentences are less changed from Sanskrit forms than the northern Indian languages. Thus it was found that there is an intimate connection between all the various languages spoken in Europe and the two Asiatic languages__Persian and Sanskrit. Many theories are built upon it as to how this connection came. Theories were built up every day, and every day smashed. There is no knowing where it is going to stop. _x000d_ Then came the theory that there was one race in ancient times who called themselves Aryans. They found in Sanskrit lit¬erature that there was a people who spoke Sanskrit and called themselves Aryans, and this is mentioned also in Persian litera¬ture. Thus they founded the theory that there was in ancient times a nation [of people] who called themselves Aryans and who spoke Sanskrit and lived in Central Asia. This nation, they said, broke into several branches and migrated to Europe and Persia; and wherever they went, they took their own languages. German, Greek and French are but remnants of an old tongue, and Sanskrit is the most highly developed of these languages. _x000d_ These are theories and have not been proved yet; they are mere conjectures and guesses. Many difficulties come in the way__for instance, how the Indians are dark and the Europeans are fair. Even within the same nations speaking these languages__in England itself__there are many with yellow hair and many with black. Thus there are many questions which have not yet been settled. _x000d_ But this is certain, that all the nations of Europe except the Basques, the Hungarians, the Tartars and the [Finns?] __excepting these, all the Europeans, all the northern Indians and the Persians speak branches of the same language. Vast masses of literature are existing in all these Aryan tongues: in Greek, in Latin, in modern European languages__German, English, French__in ancient Persian, in modern Persian and in Sanskrit. _x000d_ But in the first place, Sanskrit literature alone is a very big mass. Although, perhaps, three fourths of it has been destroyed and lost through successive invasions, yet, I think, the sum total of the amount of literature in Sanskrit would outbalance any three or four European languages taken together, in number of books. No one knows how many books are there yet and where they are, because it is the most ancient of all these Aryan lan¬guages. And that branch of the Aryan race which spoke the San¬skrit language was the first to become civilized and the first to begin to write books and literature. So they went on for thou¬sands of years. How many thousands of years they wrote no one knows. There are various guesses__from 3000 B.C. to 8000 B.C.__but all of these dates are more or less uncertain. _x000d_ Each man in writing about these ancient books and dates is first of all prejudiced by his earlier education, then by his reli¬gion, then by his nationality. If a Mohammedan writes about the Hindus, anything that does not glorify his own religion he very scrupulously pushes to one side. So with the Christians__you can see that with your own writers. In the last ten years your literature has become more respectable. So long as they [the Christians] had full play, they wrote in English and were safe from Hindu criticism. But, within the last twenty years, the Hindus have begun writing in English, so they are more careful. And you will find that the tone has quite changed within the last ten or twenty years. _x000d_ Another curiosity about the Sanskrit literature is that it, like any other language, has undergone many changes. Taking all the literature in these various Aryan languages__the Greek or the Latin or all these others__we find that all the European branches were of very recent date. The Greek came much later__a mere child in comparison with the Egyptian or the Babylo¬nian. _x000d_ The Egyptians and the Babylonians, of course, are not Aryans. They are separate races, and their civilizations antedate all the European civilization. But with the exception of the ancient Egyptians, they were almost coeval [with the Aryans]; in some accounts, they were even earlier. Yet in Egyptian litera¬ture, there are certain things to be accounted for__the introduc¬tion of the Indian lotus on old temples, the lotus Gangetic. It is well known that this only grows in India. Then there are the ref¬erences to the land of Punt. Although very great attempts have been made to fix that land of Punt on the Arabs, it is very uncertain. And then there are the references to the monkeys and sandalwood of southern India__only to be found there. _x000d_ The Jews were of a much later date than the Greek Aryans. Only one branch of the Semitic race of Babylon and this nonde¬script, unknowable race__the Egyptians__were much older than the Aryans, except the Hindus. _x000d_ So this Sanskrit has undergone very much change as a mat¬ter of course, having been spoken and written through thousands of years. It necessarily follows that in other Aryan languages, as in Greek and Roman, the literature must be of much later date than Sanskrit. Not only so, but there is this peculiarity, that of all regular books that we have in the world, the oldest are in Sanskrit__and that is the mass of literature called the Vedas. There are very ancient pieces in the Babylonian or Egyptian lit¬erature, but they cannot be called literature or books, but just a few notes, a short letter, a few words, and so on. But as fin¬ished, cultured literature, the Vedas are the oldest._x000d_ These Vedas were written in the peculiar archaic Sanskrit, and for a long time__even today__it is thought by many Euro¬pean antiquarians that these Vedas were not written, but were handed down by father to son, learned by rote, and thus pre¬served. Within the last few years, opinion is veering round, and they are beginning to think that they must have been written in most ancient times. _x000d_ Of course they have to make theories in this way. Theory after theory will have to be built up and destroyed until we reach truth. This is quite natural. But when the subject is Indian or Egyptian, the Christian philosophers rush in to make theories; while if the subject is nearer home, they think twice first. That is why they fail so much and have to keep on making fresh theories every five years. But this much is true, that this mass of literature, whether written or not, was conveyed and, not only that, but is at the present day conveyed by word of mouth. This is thought to be holy. _x000d_ You find in every nation when a new idea, a new form, a new discovery or invention comes in, the old things are not brushed aside all at once, but are relegated to the religion of holiness. The ancient Hindus used to write on palm leaves and birch bark; and when paper was invented they did not throw aside all the palm leaves, but used to consider writing on palm leaves and birch bark holy. So with the Jews__they used to write only on parchment, and parchment is now used for writing in their temples. So you find when new customs come in, the old ones become holy. So this form of transmitting the literature of the Vedas from teacher to disciple by word of mouth, although antiquated and almost useless now, has become holy. The student may refresh his memory by books, but has to learn by word of mouth of a teacher. A great many modifications will always gather round such a fact to make its holiness more ratio¬nal, but this is the law._x000d_ These Vedas are a vast mass of literature by themselves. That is to say, in those ancient times, in every country, religion was the first ideal to spring out of the heart of man, and all the secular knowledge that men got was made over to religion. _x000d_ Secondly, people who deal with religion and in later times came to be called priests__being the first thinkers of every nation__not only thought about religious subjects, but secular matters also; and, as such, all knowledge was confined to them. These masses of knowledge__both secular and religious__will always be gathered together and made into a vast mass of liter¬ature. _x000d_ In much later times, this is the case. For instance, in studying the Bible of the Jews, we find the same thing. The Talmud contained a vast mass of information on all subjects and so did the Pentateuch. In the same way, the Vedas give infor¬mation on various subjects. They have come together and form one book. And in later times, when other subjects were sepa¬rated from religion__when astronomy and astrology were taken out of religion__these subjects, being connected with the Vedas and being ancient, were considered very holy._x000d_ Almost the largest portion of the Vedas has been lost. The priests who carried it down to posterity were divided into so many families; and, accordingly, the Vedas were divided into so many parts. Each part was allotted to a family. The rituals, the ceremonies, the customs, the worship of that family were to be obtained from that [respective] portion of the Vedas. They pre¬served it and performed all the ceremonies according to that. In course of time, [some of] these families became extinct; and with them, their portion of the Vedas was lost, if these old accounts be true. _x000d_ Some of you know that the Vedas are divided into four parts. One is called the Rig Veda, another Yajur Veda, another Sâma Veda, and the fourth Atharva Veda. Each one of these, again, was divided into many branches. For instance, the Sama Veda had one thousand branches, of which only about five or six remain; the rest are all lost. So with the others. The Rig Veda had 108, of which only one remains; and the rest are all lost. _x000d_ Then [there were] these various invasions. India has been the one country to which every nation that has become strong wants to go and conquer__it being reputed to be very rich. The wealth of the people had become a fable, even in the most ancient history. [Many foreign invaders] rushed to become wealthy in India and conquered the country. Every one of these invasions destroyed one or more of these families, burned many libraries and houses. And when that was so, much literature was lost. It is only within the last few years that ideas have begun to spring up about the retention of these various religions and books. Before that, mankind had to suffer all this pillaging and breaking down. Most stupendous creations of art were lost for¬ever. Wonderful buildings__where, from a few bits of remnants now in India, it can be imagined how wonderful they were__are completely gone. _x000d_ . . . [The fanatical belief of many of these invaders into India is] that those who do not belong to their sect have no right to live. They will go to a place where the fire will never be quenched when they die; in this life they are only fit to be made into slaves or murdered; and that they have only the right to live as slaves to "the true believers", but never as free men. So in this way, when these waves burst upon India, everything was submerged. Books and literature and civilization went down. _x000d_ But there is a vitality in that race which is unique in the history of humanity, and perhaps that vitality comes from non resistance. Non resistance is the greatest strength. In meekness and mildness lies the greatest strength. In suffering is greater strength than in doing. In resisting one's own passions is far higher strength than in hurting others. And that has been the watchword of the race through all its difficulties, its misfortunes and its prosperity. It is the only nation that never went beyond its frontiers to cut the throats of its neighbours. It is a glorious thing. It makes me rather patriotic to think I am born a Hindu, a descendant of the only race that never went out to hurt anyone, and whose only action upon humanity has been giving and enlightening and purifying and teaching, but never robbing. _x000d_ Three quarters of the wealth of the world has come out of India, and does even now. The commerce of India has been the turning point, the pivot, of the history of the world. Whatever nation got it became powerful and civilized. The Greeks got it and became the mighty Greeks; the Romans got it and became the mighty Romans. Even in the days of the Phoenicians it was so. After the fall of Rome, the Genoese and the Venetians got it. And then the Arabs rose and created a wall between Venice and India; and in the struggle to find a new way there, America was discovered. That is how America was discovered; and the original people of America were called Indians, or "Injuns", for that reason. Even the Dutch got it__and the barbarians__and the English and they became the most powerful nation on earth. And the next nation that gets it will immediately be the most powerful. _x000d_ Think of all this mass of energy that our nation displays__where does it get it? In India, they are the producers and you are the enjoyers, no doubt. They produced this__the patient, toiling millions of Hindus under the whip and slavery of everyone. Even the missionaries, who stand up to curse the millions of India, have been fattened upon the work of these millions, and they do not know how it has been done. Upon their blood the history of the world has been turning since we know history, and will have to turn for thousands of years more. What is the benefit? It gives that nation strength. They are, as it were, an example. They must suffer and stand up through all, fighting for the truths of religion__as a signpost, a beacon__to tell unto mankind that it is much higher not to resist, much higher to suf¬fer, that if life be the goal, as even their conquerors will admit, we are the only race that can be called immortal, that can never be killed. _x000d_ Where are the Greeks today__they whose armies marched over the whole world? Gone, thousands of years__nobody knows where. Vanished, as soon as the barbarians of the north came and attacked them. Where are the mighty Romans, whose cohorts came and trampled the face of the earth? Where are they today? Gone__vanished like the morning dew, and left behind in the march. _x000d_ But here are the Hindus__three hundred million strong. And think of the fertility of the race! They can increase more than the whole world can kill them. This is the vitality of the race. Although not belonging very much to our subject, I wanted to bring these things before you. _x000d_ Generally the uneducated minds, the vulgar minds of every nation, like the vulgar mobs in every big city, cannot grasp, cannot see, cannot understand, any fine movement. The causes, the real movements in this world of ours, are very fine; it is only the effects that are gross and muscular. The mind is the real cause of this body, the fine movements behind. The body is the gross, the external. But everyone sees the body; very few see the mind. So with everything; the masses, the brutal, ignorant masses of every race, see a triumphant procession, stampeding horses, arms and cannonades, and these they understand. But those fine, gentle workings that are going on behind__it is only the philosopher, the highly cultivated man or woman, that can understand._x000d_ To return to our Vedanta, I have said that the Sanskrit in which the Vedas were written is not the same Sanskrit in which books were written about a thousand years later than the Vedas _x000d_ __the books that you read in your translations of poets and other classical writers of India. The Sanskrit of the Vedas was very simple, archaic in its composition, and possibly it was a spoken language. But the Sanskrit that we have now was never a spoken language, at least for the last three thousand years. Curi¬ously enough, the vast mass of literature was written in a lan¬guage which was dead, covering a period of three thousand years. Dramas and novels were written in this dead language. And all the time it was not spoken in the homes; it was only the language of the learned. _x000d_ Even in the time of Buddha, which was about 560 years be¬fore the Christian era, we find that Sanskrit had ceased to be a spoken language. Some of his disciples wanted to teach in San¬skrit, but the master studiously refused. He wanted to teach in the language [of the people], because he said he was the prophet of the people. And that is how it has come about that the Bud-dhistic literature is in Pali, which was the vernacular of that time. _x000d_ This vast mass of literature__the Vedas__we find in three groups. The first group is the Samhitâs, a collection of hymns. The second group is called the Brâhmanas, or the [group dealing with different kinds of] sacrifice. The word Brahmana [by us¬age] means [what is achieved by means of] the sacrifice. And the other group is called the Upanishads (sittings, lectures, philo¬sophic books). Again, the first two parts together__the hymns and the rituals__are called the Karmakânda, the work portion; and the second, or philosophic portion (the Upanishads), is called the Jnânakânda, the knowledge portion. This is the same word as your English word knowledge and the Greek word gnos__just as you have the word in agnostic, and so on. _x000d_ The first portion is a collection of hymns in praise of certain gods, as Agni, fire; Mitra, the sun; and so forth. They are praised and oblations are offered to them. I have said these hymns are to the gods. I have used the word gods until I make you familiar with the Sanskrit word Deva, because the word gods is very misleading. These Devas mean the "bright ones", and gods in India are less persons than positions. For instance, Indra and Agni are not names of particular persons, but particu¬lar posts in this universe. There is the post of President, the pre¬siding post over certain elements, the presiding post over certain worlds, and so forth. According to these theologians, you and I__most of us__probably have been some of these gods several times. It is only temporarily that a soul can fill one of these positions. And after his time is over, he gives way; another soul is raised from this world by good works and takes that position _x000d_ __he becomes [for example] Agni. In reading Sanskrit philoso¬phy or theology, people always get bothered by the changing of these gods. But this is the theory__that they are names of posi-tions, that all souls will have to fill them again and again; and these gods, when the soul has attained to that position, can help mankind. So gifts and praise are offered to them. How this idea came to the Aryans we do not know, but in the earliest portion of the Rig Veda we find this idea perfected and completed. _x000d_ Behind and beyond all these Devas and men and animals and worlds is the Ruler of this universe, Ishvara__somewhat similar to what in the New Testament is called God the Creator, Preserver, the Ruler of this universe. These Devas are not to be confused with Ishvara at all, but in the English language you have the same word for both. You use the word God in the sin¬gular and the plural. But the gods are the bright ones__the Devas__and God is Ishvara. This we find even in the oldest portions of the Vedas. _x000d_ Another peculiarity is that this Ishvara, this God, is mani¬festing Himself in all these various forms of bright ones. This idea__that the same God manifests Himself in various forms__ _x000d_ is a very rudimentary idea of the Vedas, even in the oldest portions. There was a time when a sort of monotheistic idea entered the Vedas, but it was very quickly rejected. As we go on, per¬haps you will agree with me that it was very good that it was rejected._x000d_ So we find in these oldest portions of the Samhitas that there were these various Devas__[being praised as] the mani¬festations of someone very much higher than they [had left] be¬hind, so that sometimes each one of them was taken up and ad¬jectives piled on it and at last it was said, "You are the God of the universe". Then such passages as this occurred: "I am God, worshipped as the fire", and so forth. "It is the One; sages call Him variously." "He is that one existence; the sages call Him by various names." This I ask you to remember, because this is the turning point, the key note of all thought that India has pro¬duced__"He is that One Being; sages call Him variously." All Hindu philosophy__either theistic or atheistic or monotheistic, dualistic or nondualistic__has that as the core, the centre. And by thousands of years of culture in the race, it is impossible for the Hindu race to go [away from] that idea._x000d_ That germ became a big tree; and that is why there was never a religious persecution in India, at least by the Hindus. That explains their liberality and welcome to any religion from any part of the world which came to settle there. That is how, even at the present day, Indian Râjâs go and perform Mo¬hammedan ceremonies and enter Mohammedan mosques, al¬though [some] Mohammedans took the first opportunity to kill a number of "the heathens". _x000d_ "He is the One Being; sages call Him variously." _x000d_ There have been two theories advanced in modern times with regard to the growth of religions. The one is the tribal theory; the other is the spirit theory. The tribal theory is that humanity in its savage state remains divided into many small tribes. Each tribe has a god of its own__or sometimes the same god divided into many forms, as the god of this city came to that city, and so on; Jehovah of this city and of such and such mountain [came to such and such city or mountain]. When the tribes came together, one of them became strong. _x000d_ Take the case of the Jews. They were divided into so many tribes, and each tribe had a god called either Baal or Moloch, which in your Old Testament is translated as "the Lord". There was the Moloch of this state and that state, of this mountain and that mountain, and there was the Moloch of the chest, who used to live in a chest. This latter tribe became strong and conquered the surrounding tribes and became triumphant. So that Moloch was proclaimed the greatest of all Molochs. "Thou art the Java [?] of the Molochs. Thou art the ruler of all the Baals and Molochs." Yet the chest remained. So this idea was obtained from tribal gods. _x000d_ There is the other theory of Spiritualism__that religion begins with the worship of ancestors. Ancestor worship was among the Egyptians, among the Babylonians, among many other races__the Hindus, the Christians. There is not one form of religion among which there has not been this ancestor wor¬ship in some form or other. _x000d_ Before that they thought that this body had a double inside it and that when this body dies the double gets out and lives so long as this body exists. The double becomes very hungry or thirsty, wants food or drink, and wants to enjoy the good things of this world. So he [the double] comes to get food; and if he does not get it, he will injure even his own children. So long as the body is preserved the double will live. Naturally the first attempt, as we see, was to preserve the body, mummify the body, so that the body will live forever. _x000d_ So with the Babylonians was this sort of spirit worship. Later on as the nations advanced, the cruel forms died out and better forms remained. Some place was given to that which is called heaven, and they placed food here so that it might reach the double there. Even now the pious Hindus must, one day a year at least, place food for their ancestors. And the day they leave off [this habit] will be a sorry day for the ancestors. So you also find this ancestor worship to be one cause of religion. There are in modern times philosophers who advance the theory that this has been the root of all religions. There are others who advance the theory that the root of all religions was the tribal assimilation of gods into one. _x000d_ Among the Jews of the Old Testament you do not find any mention of soul. It is only in the Talmud that it is found. They got it from the Alexandrians, and the Alexandrians from the Hindus__just as the Talmud had [developed] later on the idea of transmigration of the soul. But the old Jews had grand ideas of God. The God of the Jews developed into the Great God__the Omnipotent, Omniscient, All Merciful__and all this came to them from the Hindus, but not through the idea of the soul. So Spiritualism could not have played any part in that, because how could the man who did not believe in any soul after death have anything to do with Spiritualism? _x000d_ On the other hand, in the oldest portion of the Vedas, there is very little of Spiritualism, if anything at all. These Devas [of the Vedas] were not [related to Spiritualism]__although later on they became so; and this idea of Someone behind them, of whom they were manifestations, is in the oldest parts. _x000d_ Another idea is that when the body dies, the soul [which] is immortal remains beatified. The very oldest Aryan literature__ _x000d_ whether German or Greek__has this idea of soul. The idea of soul has come from the Hindus. _x000d_ Two people have given all the religion to the world__the Hindus and the Jews. But it is only with the Hindus that the idea of soul comes at first, and that was shared by the Aryan races. _x000d_ The peculiarity you find is that the Semitic races and the Egyptians try to preserve the dead bodies, while the Aryans try to destroy them. The Greeks, the Germans, the Romans__your ancestors before they became Christians__used to burn the dead. It was only when Charlemagne made you Christians with the sword__and when you refused, [he] cut off a few hundred heads, and the rest jumped into the water__that burying came here. You see at once the metaphysical significance of burning the dead. The burying of the dead can only remain when there is no idea of the soul, and the body is all. At best there came the idea later on that this very body will have another lease of life, after so many years__mummies will come out and begin to walk the streets again. _x000d_ But with the Aryans the idea was from the first that the soul is not the body, but would live on. There are some old hymns in the Rig Veda: when the bodies are burnt they say, "Take him gently, purify him, give him a bright body, take him to the land where the fathers live__where there is no more sorrow and where there is joy forever". _x000d_ It is curious that though in modern times many hideous and cruel forms of religion crept into India, there is one peculiar idea that divides the Aryan from all other races of the world: that their religion, in the Hindu form, accepted this Indra as one [with the Ultimate Reality]. Three quarters of the mythology of the Vedas is the same as that of the Greeks; only the old gods became saints in the new religion. But they were originally the gods of the Samhitas._x000d_ One other peculiarity we remark__that it is a cheerful, joy¬ful, at times almost hilarious religion; there is not a bit of pes¬simism in it. The earth is beautiful, the heavens are beautiful, life is immortal. Even after death they get a still more beautiful body, which has none of the imperfections of this body, and they go to live with the gods and enjoy heaven forever. _x000d_ On the other hand, with the Semitic races, the very first in¬ception of religion was one of horror. A man crouched in his little house for fear. All round his house were those doubles. The family ancestors of the Jews were there, ready to pounce upon anybody and tear him to pieces if bloody sacrifices were not given to them. Even when you find that this [double] idea coagulated into one__"Thou art the Elohim of the Jews, Thou art the Elo[him] of the [Babylonians?]" __even then the idea of sacrifice remained. _x000d_ The idea of sacrifice in India was not with this first portion. But in the next portion we find the same idea in India too, in the Brahmanas. The idea of sacrifice was originally simply giving food [to the gods], but gradually it was raised and raised until it became a sacrifice to God. Philosophy came in to mystify it still more and to spin webs of logic round it. Bloody sacrifices came into vogue. Somewhere we read that three hundred bullocks have been roasted, or the gods are smelling the sacrifices and becoming very glad. Then all sorts of mystical notions got about__how the sacrifice was to be made in the form of a triangle or a square, a triangle within a square, a pentagon, and all sorts of figures. But the great benefit was the evolution of geometry. When they had to make all these figures__and it was laid down strictly how many bricks should be used, and how they should be laid, and how big they should be__naturally geometry came [into being]. The Egyptians evolved geometry [by] their [irrigation]__[they] made canals to take the Nile water inside their fields__and the Hindus, by their altars._x000d_ Now there is another particular difference between the idea of sacrifice in India and [that] of the Jews. The real meaning of sacrifice is worship, a form of worship by oblations. At first it was simply giving food to the bright ones, or the higher beings. They had gross food just as we have. Later on philosophy stepped in and the idea came that they, being higher beings, could not eat the same food as we do. Their bodies are made of finer particles. Our bodies cannot pass through a wall; theirs find no resistance in gross material. As such, they cannot be expected to eat in the same gross way as we do._x000d_ _x000d_ _x000d_ [Some parts of the transcription of the remaining portion of this lecture, recorded by Mr. J. J. Goodwin, were found in a severely damaged condition. Hence we have reproduced below only the legible fragments as they appeared in the original.]_x000d_ _x000d_ . . . "O Indra, I offer you this oblation. O Agni, I offer you this oblation." The answer is that these words have a mystical power in Sanskrit. And when a man, in a certain state of mind, pronounces these words, he sets in motion a set of psychological causes, and

On May 7 he began holding classes in his quarters, and in a short time the fame of his personality and utterances spread far and wide. New people sought his acquaintance and visited him — among them, many persons of distinction. 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 soon there gathered around him a number of men and women who desired to study seriously the problems of human existence in the light of Eastern wisdom.

From May 7 to July 16 the Swami regularly held five classes a week — two on Tuesdays at 11.30 a.m. and 8.30 p.m., two on Thursdays at the same hours, and one on Friday evenings at 8.30, the last of which was a particularly instructive question- and-answer class. In addition, he received visitors on Friday afternoons.

As Mr. Goodwin wrote to Mrs. Bull on May 12, these classes were to be held on_x000d_ "Tuesday at 11.30 & 8.30_x000d_ "Thursday at 11.30 & 8.30_x000d_ "Friday (Afternoons) At Home_x000d_ "(Friday) 8.30 Question Class._x000d_ In other words, Swamiji was to hold four regular classes and a question class every week, with, in addition, an afternoon devoted to receiving visitors.

In his first series of class lectures he dealt mainly with the history of the Aryan race, its development, its religious advance, and the diffusion of its religious influence. Following this, he held classes on Jnana-Yoga, the path of Knowledge. He also gave a course of lessons on Raja-Yoga and a series of discourses on Bhakti-Yoga, many of which were recorded by Mr. Goodwin. At first, the attendance at the Swami's classes was not as large as had been expected, considering its over-flowing size at the close of the previous season, but slowly and steadily it grew, until within a month the Swami could write to Mary Hale' "The classes are very big." And to Mrs. Bull on June 5, "My classes are going on splendidly."

A large portion of Mr. Goodwin's unpublished transcript of Swamiji's morning class of May 7 has recently been found among Mrs. Bull's papers. This was actually an introductory jnana yoga class, opening with the words:_x000d_ _x000d_ I have told you how I would divide the subject into four yogas, but, as the bearing [direction] of all these various yogas is the same, [as] the goal they want to arrive at is the same, I had better begin with the philosophical por¬tion: the jnana yoga jnana means knowledge. [But]before going into the principles of the Vedanta philosophy, I think it is necessary to sketch, in a few words, the origin, the beginning, and the development, that is, the historical portion, of that system.

Swamiji then proceeded, as Goodwin informed Mrs. Bull, to trace the history of the Aryan race through the spread of the Sanskrit language, speaking of the various theories that had been put forward in that regard. In addition, he spoke of the origin of religion and contrasted the early Hindu, Egyptian, and Semitic ideas. And in a fine digression (Swamiji's digressions were often as important and inspiring as his main themes) he spoke with pride in his race for its power of survival, for a vitality that resided in an inner, hidden strength far more tensile and enduring than the overt and relatively short-lived bravura of conquering peoples. Speaking of the many invasions of India that had devastated her culture again and again, he went on:

Books and literature and civilization went down. But there is a vitality in that race which is unique in the history of humanity, and perhaps that vitality comes from non¬resistance. Nonresistance is the greatest strength. In suffer¬ing is greater strength than in doing. In resisting one's own passions is far higher strength than in hurting others. And that has been the watchword of the race through all their difficulties; their misfortunes, and their prosperity. They are the only nation that never went beyond their frontiers to cut the throats of their neighbours. It is a glorious thing. It makes me rather patriotic to think I am born a Hindu, a descendant of the only race that never went out to hurt anyone, and whose only action upon humanity has been giving and enlightening and purifying and teaching, but never robbing. Three quarters of the wealth of the world has come out of India, and does even now. The commerce of India has been the turning point, the pivot of the history of the world. . . . Upon the blood of the [toiling millions of Hindus] the history of the world has been turning since we know history and will have to turn for thousands of years more. And what is the benefit? It gives that nation strength. They are, as it were, an example; they must suffer and stand up through all, fighting for the truths of religion, as a signpost, a beacon, to tell unto mankind that it is much higher not to resist, much higher to suffer, that if life be the goal, as even their conquerors will admit, we are the only race that can be called immortal, that can never be killed. … I want to bring these things before you, for, generally, the uneducated minds, of every nation, like the vulgar mobs in every big city, cannot grasp, cannot see, cannot understand, any fine movement. The causes, the real movements in this world of ours, are very fine: it is only the effects that are gross, and muscular. The mind is the real cause of this body, the fine movements behind. The body is the gross, the external. But everyone sees the body; very few see the mind. So with everything; the masses, the brutal, ignorant masses of every race see a triumphant procession, stampeding horses, arms, and cannonades, and these they understand. But those fine, gentle workings that are going on behind, it is only the philosopher, the highly cultivated man or woman, that can understand.

To Mrs. Ole Bull_x000d_ 63 St George's Road_x000d_ London. S.W._x000d_ May 8, 1896_x000d_ Dear Mrs. Bull___x000d_ Your last letter to Sturdy at hand. They, I am sorry to say, leave us nowhere. I could not make anything out of them._x000d_ What are we to do? Is the book going to be published or not? Prof. [William] James's introduction is of no use in Eng¬land. So why wait so long for that; and what use are those long explanations about him?_x000d_ Our hands are tied down. Why do you not write something plain and decisive? Life is short and time is flying. I am so sorry you are losing sight of that. Your letters are full of explanations [and] directions, but not one word about what is to be done!!! So much red tape about printing a little book!! Empires are managed with less manipulation than that, I am sure!! So kindly write at your earliest something precise about the book and whether it is going to be printed or not, and pray make the writing a little legible._x000d_ Poor Sturdy is out of his wits as to what to do; he has gone through the Mss. long ago._x000d_ Joking apart, I am very sorry you are not coming over this year. We are in Lady Isabel's house. Miss [Henrietta] Müller has taken some rooms in it too. Goodwin is here with us. We have not yet made any big stir here. The classes have begun; they are not yet what we expected. We [have] had only two yet._x000d_ We will work on steadily the next 4 or 5 months. Sturdy is as patient and persevering and hopeful as ever._x000d_ It is cool enough here yet to have a fire in the grate._x000d_ Give my love to Mrs. Adams, Miss Thursby and all other friends. My love to Mr. Fox and blessings._x000d_ Yours with love and blessings,_x000d_ Vivekananda

But the Swami's many classes, his six Sunday lectures, and his uncounted private interviews did not by any means cover the whole of the work he was doing in England. He lectured also in many drawing-rooms and at several well-known clubs. One of the first of the lectures he gave on invitation was at the Sesame Club, where on May 12, he delivered an address on "Education". Swami Saradananda, writing to the Brahmavadin of June 6, said:

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 Thursday [Tuesday] last the Swami lectured on "Education" at the Sesame Club. It is an important club organized 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.

In his reminiscences of the Swami's visit to London, Mr. Erie Hammond writes of a lecture on "Education", that the Swami delivered on short notice at the Sesame, Club. This was the first lecture of the Swami's that Mr Hammond had attended — it was, indeed, his first sight of him. He writes in part: _x000d_ _x000d_ ... Most of those present were, we discovered, schoolmasters and schoolmistresses, tutors and the like. The subject announced for lecture (sic) was "Education". Soon he, Swamiji, appeared. He had little, if any, notice and his speech could not have been in any wise prepared. Yet, then, as always, he proved himself more than equal to the occasion. Collected, calm, self-possessed, he stood forward. A Hindu, primed in heart and tongue with Hindu lore and Hindu faith, backed by the prestige of an ancient civilization and culture which inspired him! It was a novel sight, a memorable experience. His dark skin, his deep glowing eyes, even his costume, attracted and fascinated. Above all, eloquence acclaimed him, the eloquence of inspiration. Again, his surprising command of the English language delighted and held his audience, an audience it must be remembered which consisted largely, as we have said, of men and women whose profession it was to teach English students their mother-tongue and through the medium of that tongue instruct them in other branches of knowledge. More, Swamiji soon showed that he was equally versed in history and political economy. He stood among these people on their own ground. Without fear, beseeching no favour, he dealt them blow upon blow enforcing the Hindu principle that the teacher who taught for the money-making was a traitor to the highest and deepest truth. "Education is an integral part of religion, and neither one nor the other should be bought nor sold." His words, rapier-like, pierced the armour of scholastic convention; yet no bitterness spoilt his speech. This Hindu, cultured, gracious with his notable smile that disarmed unkindly criticism, held his own and made his mark. He had come, sent by the spirit of Shri Ramakrishna, to make that mark; and he had succeeded at the first attempt. The idea that teachers should work with their pupils for love, and not for the love of lucre, not even for the love of livelihood.

Discussion followed. Climatic and other reasons for charges for teaching were set forth, but Swamiji maintained his position. _x000d_ Such then was our first meeting with him; a meeting which resulted in, reverent friendship, in genuine admiration and in most grateful remembrance.

Thc talk Swamiji gave on the Tuesday evening of May 12 was not announced in the "club Papers," it having been unforeseen. Even Swamiji had had little chance to inform people that his regular evening class that Tuesday was canceled. Among those who were unaware of it were Mr. and Mrs. Eric Hammond.

Mr. Hammond and his wife Nell lived in a modest house in the suburb of Wimbledon. He was a journalist and poet, well known in his own town for his popular annual lectures on poetry and poets as well as for his work on the Wimbledon Library Committee and his close association with the Wim¬bledon Literary Society. He and Nell, in their mid-forties in1896, were kind and gentle people ("She is a great soul " Swamiji would later say of Nell Hammond) and were, of course, good friends of Margaret Noble, who had founded the Literary Society in 1890. It was she who had urged them¬ persistently-to go to London on the evening of May 12 in order to attend one of Swamiji's classes. In a published rem¬iniscence, Mr. Hammond tells what happened that rainy "cheerless and dismal" evening which found him and his wife ringing the doorbell at 63 St. George's Road. They were "met, at first, by disappointment."

Swamiji was not at home [Mr. Hammond relates). However, a very kindly message awaited us. We were permitted-so the message ran-to follow him to the Sesame Club whither he had gone, at brief notice, to speak in place of a lecturer who was prevented from appearing. Obeying instructions with alacrity we sought the Club [then at 171: Victoria Street, not far from St. George's Road]. We found ourselves in a big drawing room or hall, filled almost to overflowing by smart people in evening dress. Some courteous and obliging person ushered us close to a platform where one or two chairs were vacant. The position was conspicuous and so, alas! were we. Our overcoats were dripping with rain, nor were we otherwise clothed in fine raiment; not anticipating a summons to so distinguished a gathering. Most of those present were, we discovered, schoolmasters and schoolmistresses, tutors and the like. The subject announced for lecture was "Education". Soon he, Swamiji, appeared. .. . His dark skin, his deep glowing eyes, even his costume, attracted and fascinated. Above all, eloquence acclaimed him, the eloquence of inspiration. . . . More, Swamiji soon showed that he was equally versed in history and political econ¬omy. He stood among these people on their own ground. Without fear, beseeching no favour, he dealt them blow upon blow enforcing the Hindu principle that the teacher who taught for the money-making was a traitor to the highest and deepest truth. "Education is an integral part of religion and neither one nor the other should be bought nor sold." His words, rapier-like, pierced the armour of scholastic convention; yet no bitterness spoilt his speech. This Hindu, cultured, gracious with his notable smile that disarmed unkindly criticism, held his own and made his mark. . . . _x000d_ Discussion followed. Climatic and other reasons for charges for teaching were set forth, but Swamiji maintained his position._x000d_ Such then was our first meeting with him; a meeting which resulted in reverent friendship, in genuine admiration and in most grateful remembrance .

Swamiji's unscheduled and unexpected engagement at the Sesame Club gave him precisely the kind of publicity he needed at the beginning of this season in London. In the Daily Chronicle of May 14, one finds the following item:

The Sesame Club.-At a meeting of the Sesame Club on Tuesday night (May 12], the chairman, Mr. Ashton ,]onson, said he regretted to announce that Mrs. Norman was too unwell to be present to open, as announced, a debate on "Should we return to the land." An address was accordingly given by Swami Vivekananda on the subject of education, in which he urged that no one could obtain intellectual greatness until he was physically pure. Morality gave strength; the immoral were always weak, and could never raise themselves intellectually, much less spiritually. Directly immorality began to enter the national life its foundations commenced to rot. As the life blood of every nation was to be found in the schools, where boys and girls were receiving their education, it was absolutely essential that the young students should lie pure, and this purity must be taught them.

The members of the Sesame Club, who assembled that evening, were intellectuals; most of them interested one way or another in education, which was then just beginning to become a matter for serious thought and experiment. The club had been founded the previous year and was one of the first "mixed" clubs in London-that is, its membership was open to both men and women. According to the "Sesame Club Papers," published in the first years of the club's existence, one of its purposes was to "become a recognized rendezvous for persons interested in education in all its branches, whether as professional teachers or otherwise: ' The Honourable Secretaries were Lady Isabel Margesson and Mrs. Ashton Jonson, both of whom were known to Swamiji. On Tuesday evenings the club held what were called "Literary Evenings" a poor title for that function," the "Club Papers" remarked, "there being all sorts of topics brought forward, lectures, debates, etc," Indeed, in the "Papers" one finds mention of talks by people of divers interests, such as Patrick Geddes, George Bernard Shaw (not yet famous), Rev. H. R. Haweis, and William Butler Yeats, to say nothing of Swami Vivekananda.

63 St. George's Road_x000d_ London, S.W._x000d_ 16th May, 1896_x000d_ Dear Adhyapakji {Prof. John Henry Wright}, _x000d_ Last mail brought the very very sad news of the blow that has fallen on you._x000d_ This is the world my brother--this illusion of Maya--the Lord alone is true. The forms are evanescent; but the spirit, being in the Lord and of the Lord, is immortal and omnipresent. All that we ever had are round us this minute, for the spirit can neither come nor go, it only changes its plane of manifestation._x000d_ You are strong and pure and so is Mrs. Wright, and I am sure that the Divine in you has arisen and thrown away the lie and delusion that there can be death for anyone._x000d_ "He who sees in this world of manifoldness that one support of everything, in the midst of a world of unconsciousness that one eternal consciousness, in this evanescent world that one eternal and unchangeable, unto him belongs eternal peace."_x000d_ May the peace of the Lord descend upon you and yours in abundance is the prayer of_x000d_ Your ever loving friend,_x000d_ Vivekananda

On May 28, the day before Swamiji attended the wedding, he had one of the most memorable experiences of his visit in England. He had gone by train with Mr. Sturdy to see Professor Max Muller at his home in Oxford, about sixty-four miles northwest of London. He was enchanted by the venerable philologist and Sanskrit scholar, who, though born and educated in Germany, had spent some fifty years of his life in England, translating and editing the Rig-Veda in six volumes and later editing the fifty-volume Sacred Books of the East,* as well as writing a number of books and essays. The long years he had spent delving into "the interminable forest of Sanskrit literature with deep interest and heart-felt love" had colored, Swamiji found, his whole being. "It was neither the philologist nor the scholar that I saw," he wrote in a letter to the Brahmavadin a few days after his visit to Oxford, "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.** Where others lose themselves in the desert of dry details, he has struck the wellspring of life. Indeed, his heartbeats have caught the rhythm of the Upanishads.

Professor Friedrich Max Muller was Corpus Professor of Comparative Philology and had just been made the Right Honourable, which distinction he held among many others.*** He treated Swamiji and Mr. Sturdy with great cordiality, introducing them to his wife, entertaining them at his house at 7 Norham Gardens, a Tudor cottage (which he called his "Ashrama") set in an English garden with rosebushes in full bloom, inviting them to lunch, showing them several Colleges of Oxford, and conducting them through the Bodleian Library, of which he was a curator and which was rich in Oriental manuscripts, and at the close of the day accompanying them to the railway station. "And all this he did," Swamiji wrote, "because, as he said, `It is not every day one meets a disciple of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa.'

It had been a beautiful spring day away from the noisy and murky city. "The trees, the flowers, the calmness, and the clear sky," Swamiji wrote, "-all these sent me back in imagination to the glorious days of Ancient India, the days of our Brahmarshis and Rajarshis, the days of the great Vanaprasthas, the days of Arundhatis and Vasishthas. (The image remained in Swamiji's mind. "Seeing the old man and his lady," he was later to say to an Indian disciple, "it seemed to me that they were living their home-life like another Vasishtha and Arun¬dhati! Even before he met the Professor, Swamiji had sensed that he belonged to Vedic India-a reincarnation of the fourteenth-century Sayana, born to revive his own commentary on the Rig-Veda. How else explain his inherently profound love for India's ancient scriptures, so anomalous in the nineteenth¬ century West? Now, meeting and talking with "the silver-headed sage, with a face calm and benign,"54 Swamiji was confirmed in his belief. Max Muller himself, a believer in reincarnation-in total contradiction to his Christian loyalties -seemed to sense that he had lived another life in another land, where his heart belonged. Taking leave of him, Swamiji had asked, "When are you coming to India? Every heart there would welcome one who has done so much to place the thoughts of their ancestors in the true light." "The face of the aged sage brightened up," Swamiji wrote, "there was almost a tear in his eyes, 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. Who knows but that it was what the poet has said-`He remembers with his mind the friendships of former births, firmly rooted in his heart.'

Swamiji did not always agree with Max Muller's scholarly conclusions. A few years later at the Paris Congress of the History of Religions, he was to point out the illogic of a contention of the Professor's (even as he had once "indulged in an innocent squib at Sayana" This did not, however, lessen his respect for "the great-souled scholar." Indeed, Max Muller's love for India and his devotion to the task of bringing out her greatest jewels for Western view and understanding had won Swamiji's everlasting esteem. "His life," he wrote, "has been a blessing to the world.

63 St. George's Road_x000d_ London, S.W._x000d_ 30th May, 1896_x000d_ Dear Mary {Hale},_x000d_ Your letter reached just now. Of course, you were not jealous but all of a sudden were inspired with sympathy for poor India. Well, you need not be frightened. Wrote a letter to Mother Church weeks ago, but have not been able to get a line from her yet. I am afraid the whole party have taken orders and entered a Catholic convent--four old maids are enough to drive any mother to a convent. I had a beautiful visit with Prof. Max Muller. He is a saint--a Vedantist through and through. What think you? He has been a devoted admirer of my old Master for years. He has written an article on my Master in The Nineteenth Century , which will soon come out. We had long talk on Indian things. I wish I had half his love for India. We are going to start another little magazine here. What about The Brahmavadin ? Are you pushing it? If four pushful old maids cannot push a journal, I am blowed. You will hear from me now and then. I am not a pin to be lost under a bushel. I am having classes here just now. I begin Sunday lectures from next week. The classes are very big and are in the house. We have rented it for the season. Last night I made a dish. It was such a delicious mixture of saffron, lavender, mace, nutmeg, cubebs, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, cream, limejuice, onions, raisins, almonds, pepper, and rice, that I myself could not eat it. There was no asafoetida, though that would have made it smoother to swallow. _x000d_ Yesterday I went to a marriage a la mode . Miss Muller, a rich lady, a friend who has adopted a Hindu boy and to help my work has taken rooms in this house, took us to see it. One of her nieces was married to somebody's nephew I suppose. What tiring nonsense! I am glad you do not marry. Good-bye, love to all. No more time as I am going to lunch with Miss MacLeod._x000d_ Yours ever affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

63 St. George's Road, London_x000d_ 30th May, 1896_x000d_ Dear Mrs. Bull,_x000d_ . . . Day before yesterday I had a fine visit with Prof. Max Muller. He is a saintly man and looks like a young man in spite of his seventy years, and his face is without a wrinkle. I wish I had half his love for India and Vedanta. At the same time he is a friend of Yoga too and believes in it. Only he has no patience with humbugs._x000d_ Above all, his reverence for Ramakrishna Paramahamsa is extreme, and he has written an article on him for the Nineteenth Century . He asked me, "What are you doing to make him known to the world?" Ramakrishna has charmed him for years. Is it not good news? . . . _x000d_ Things are going on here slowly but steadily. I am to begin from next Sunday my public lectures._x000d_ Yours ever in grateful affection,_x000d_ Vivekananda

The Swami's ideas, burning with selfless love, themselves told like the thunderbolt. And it is small wonder that hundreds were caught up in the grandeur and freshness of the thought he sent forth. Many distinguished Anglican clergymen, intellectuals, as well as society people were captivated, until it seemed as if some great movement was about to be born in his name. Yet because no formal organization to carry on his work came into being in London during his lifetime, it is hard to gauge the true import of his work: there are no records or statistics, no membership rolls or ledgers. It is only through the uncharted spreading of his influence that his work in England can be understood and evaluated, but this spreading, we know, was extensive and its effect lasting and profound.

But even apart from the overall public significance of the Swami's London work, his second visit is memorable; for during it he gathered to his fold some of the most diligent and heroic workers and helpers in his cause. During his previous visit he had, it is true, made acquaintances, which had ripened into friendship with such talented people as Miss Henrietta Muller, Mr. Edward T. Sturdy, and Miss Margaret Noble, but now these people became his disciples ready to sacrifice everything for him and his cause.

Before receiving a letter of clarification from Mrs. Bull, Mr. Sturdy was satisfied enough with Mr. Goodwin's explanation of her wishes, and "without further delay he proceeded with the matter of making a contract with Longmans," which "of course took some little time. And, at length, Mrs. Bull's own explanation of what the American Committee had in mind arrived in London. "Your last letter put everything straight," Swamiji wrote to her on June 5, in a passage not heretofore fully published, "and the Raja yoga book is splendidly going on

As matters now stood, Mr. Leggett and Mrs. Bull were to pay for the publication of the book and, on behalf of the New York Publication Committee, would retain control of the rights to it. Mr. Sturdy was to act as agent for the Committee in negotiating with Longmans, Green, and Company. The book, he had decided, would be printed and copyrighted in England only and distributed both there and in America.* Although Mrs. Bull had no objection to Sturdy's arrangements, she was generally displeased with him. First, for telling others (notably the Goodyears) of the possible inclusion in the book of a preface from William James-which, as it happened, was not forthcoming, certainly not in time for publication. "A preface for an American edition from a specialist would be of decided value," she wrote to Sturdy reprovingly; "but this was merely an incidental that I desired not mentioned. It seems Mr. Goodyear is however acquainted with that intention also. I deemed it better if not carried out that it should not be spoken of. Furthermore, for the past several months Sturdy had neglected to reply to her suggestions and queries, perhaps, to give him the benefit of the doubt, not comprehending them. "Your letter of today," she wrote to Swamiji on June 8, "is the first and only message of response of Mr. Sturdy to my business letter [of March], his correspondence since your return to England (has been] solely addressed to Mr. Goodyear I believe. She was understandably annoyed, and for this reason, as well as perhaps for others, she requested Swamiji to turn over her power of attorney in connection with his American books to Mr. Leggett._x000d_ _x000d_ * This arrangement – the publication of Raja Yoga in England for distribution in America – was to create difficulty for the New York Vedanta Society. In his diary for September, 1897, Swami Abhedananda wrote, “As the Raja Yoga was published by Longmans and Green in London … it was difficult to get the book from London to New York for there was imposed a heavy Customs duty on all foreign publications. For this reason, Swami Vivekananda’s Americal students, headed by Miss Mary Phillips, published an American edition of his Raja Yoga in New York. I made necessary corrections and made a Glossary of Sanskrit words in the text” (Swami Abhedananda, Complete Works, 10:12).

As we have seen, Swamiji often was invited out in the afternoons. But he also received visitors at home, some of whom came for spiritual guidance, others for advice in their personal lives, confiding in him as one might confide in a wise and compassionate uncle whom one had always known. Or on some afternoons when no one else came, he would sit in the parlor talking with Swami Saradananda, Sturdy, Goodwin, Mahendra, and, after the first week of June, John Fox, who had arrived in London around June 6 to study architecture. (For the first week or so of his London stay, Fox lived in the house at St. George's Road, but even after taking lodgings elsewhere, he continued to spend a part of his time there.)* Snatches of the talk come down to us through the memory of Mahendra, who seems almost always to have been present, listening attentively. While one cannot suppose that Mahendra had total recall,* one can, I believe, accept the highlights of his memory, as well as its broad outlines.

There was, for instance, the afternoon when Swamiji, leaning back in his easy chair, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, remained silent for a long time, "as if pondering something." The others in the room were quiet, waiting. Then suddenly Swamiji uncrossed his legs and said to John Fox that he had been thinking of how St. Paul, becoming the Apostle of Christ's teachings, had succeeded in spreading them in the face of powerful opposition. "Paul was a learned fanatic," Swamiji said. "Do you know what I am? I am also a learned fanatic, and I want to create a band of learned fanatics. You see, just a fanatic is not enough; fanaticism is a disease of the brain and makes much mischief. It takes a learned fanatic." He grew quite excited, Mahendra tells us, and his listeners were awestruck by the clear implication of his own place in the establishment of a new Dispensation. And indeed, as Mahendra points out, many have since remarked that what Paul was to Christ, Swami Vivekananda was to Sri Ramakrishna. Here again was Swamiji's impersonal recognition of the immensity of his own place in history.

But not only was it through such statements that his status was revealed. There were times in which it was clearly apparent. The divine light of his being kept shining out, as though a thin veil were being continually blown aside. Sometimes, Mahendra recalled, the power he manifested seemed overwhelming, particularly so during a class or lecture; it was like a fire blazing in the middle of the house and difficult to bear. At such times, what Spirit was could be clearly understood. "It was as if the room was flowing with Brahmajnana and wisdom, and Swamiji, smiling, was sprinkling it around, offering anjali with his two hands.

Or there were times in the parlor when he sat in so grave and absorbed a mood that no one dared approach him; he was infinity itself. But there were other times when the childlike joy characteristic of the Paramahamsa was uppermost and irrepressible. Often he would sing Bengali songs to himself, as though giving voice to a continual inner joy and worship. And there was the day when he was just soaked in bliss, guilelessly absorbed in joy. There were only a few intimate friends present in the lecture room that day-probably a Friday afternoon and Swamiji, standing by the lecture table, began suddenly to dance.

Or, again, there was the morning in the parlor, where all the household was assembled except Mr. Sturdy and Miss Muller (the latter of whom seldom, it seems, joined the young men). "Swamiji sat for a long time in his chair in deep thought," Mahendra wrote. "Then all at once he began to say, `So'ham, So'ham.' The look of his face, the tone of his voice became utterly changed. His countenance became the veritable picture of joy. In this bliss he began to pace the floor or dance for a while. Everyone was astonished. Here was a new person, a free person. Then he became silent and sat again in his chair. Slowly, as his mood passed, he became his normal self again. But Swamiji's "normal self'" was an extraordinary self; there seems to have been always that ecstasy shimmering just below the surface, ready to overflow.

We have not only Mahendra's memories as evidence of Swamiji's spiritual ecstasy during his life in England, but more important and more telling, his own words as they have come down to us in his famous and often-quoted letter written on July 6 to "Frankincense," as he addressed the rather staid Mr. Leggett.

At twenty years of age [he wrote] 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 the Universal Love which is the Lord Himself? Again I have heard that if one does not see the evil round him he cannot do good work-he 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 every one, everything, love and embrace everything, and I do see that evil is a delusion. . . . He is my playful darling. I am his playfellow. There is neither rhyme nor reason in the universe! What reason binds Him? . . . 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 learned a thing or two. Beyond, beyond reason and learning and talking is the feeling, the `Love', the `Beloved'. Aye, Saki,* fill up the cup and we will be mad.

He discussed politics with Goodwin, history with Fox, the Harvard graduate, who had taken many courses in the subject. He astounded them not only with the extent of his learning but with the hundreds of absorbing details that he had at the tips of his fingers, as, for instance, the fact that the gluttonous Roman Emperor Vitellius ate myna birds from Assam boiled in ghee and milk. To Mrs. Bull, Fox wrote on June 17, "The last day or two I have had some good talks with [Swami], or rather listened to him, for he knows so much about everything that one hardly ventures to express his own ideas on a subject. I have not realized till lately how much he knows about every country and time, and he has such a true and broad knowledge-real philosophy. Indeed. He could describe how American carriage wheels were made, discuss the recent discoveries of German science, talk at length _x000d_ about the Jewish Cabala, about astronomy, other branches of science, Perisian customs, European politics--anything; and while the facts he told were in themselves fascinating, he made them more so by relating them to the wide movements of man's history on earth. He often spoke of India, his mind ever on the means of improving the lot of his countrymen. At times the poverty and helplessness of India's people, compared with the robust activity of the average Westerner, filled him with grief. But though his mind roamed over the world both in time and space, no detail of his immediate surroundings escaped his notice. Were his young brother, for instance, not properly dressed, he would at once admonish him. He himself scrupulously observed the customs and manners of London, lest he give offense to his English friends; nor does it seem to have been difficult for Swamiji to adjust to the ways of the West. Even the humor-that subtle idiom relished by its own culture and era, unintelligible to the outsider-held no mystery for him, as his letters to Western friends delightfully show.

Often there were jokes and laughter. Once Mr. Sturdy, who had attended an English public school, told with indignation of the canings given to the boys. "I get angry," he said, "whenever I see a man beating a boy." "I, too," said Goodwin; "I get angry even when I see a man beating a donkey." Swamiji smiled. "That is because it arouses your fellow-feeling," he said. They all laughed, perhaps Goodwin the loudest. Indeed, one might suppose that the house was a continuous mart of joy, filled with peace and goodwill during the ten weeks or so of Swamiji's stay there. To a great extent, this was of course the case; yet it was not altogether so: there were undercurrents of tension in the minds of those who lived, as on some high Himalayan peak, in close association with Swamiji. Alone among them, Swami Saradananda was fully accustomed to the altitude of his presence; it was native to him. Goodwin, Mahendra, and Fox seemed to have basked in it, allowing it to suffuse them. But Mr. Sturdy and Miss Muller appear to have resisted it. "You can silence me," Miss Muller was heard to say to Swamiji from time to time, "but you cannot convince me!

Of course Swami does not stand to me as he does to many others. To them he came as a teacher of something they had not heard before and also as a manifestation of his teachings to a great extent in himself.

To me he came as a manifestation, a partial realisation of ideals and doctrines I had studied and striven to follow for-counting them now-I7 years. I realised at once on meeting him that he was far above most of the men I had met in India in many directions and his contact with the West had furnished his mind with many new examples and illustrations and he had heart and head equally devel¬oped. I still look up to Swami as a very great man-teacher, but I have very gravely modified my idea of him in some directions. It would be unfair to go into them. They are personal experiences and impressions, which may be entirely or partly the mistakes of the impressed. I have not altered any ideals or convictions, but these experiences and impressions produce just that taking away of en-thusiasm and energy without which, when one lacks them, no work or cooperation can be engaged in.

Before proceeding to evaluate the Swami's work in London, we may present here information and certain incidents of his life as recorded by his younger brother Mahendranath Datta in his Bengali work Londane Vivekananda ("Swami Vivekananda in London"). Mahendranath had arrived in London, perhaps in the second week of April 1896, a few days earlier than his illustrious elder brother. When the Swami came to live in the rented house at 63 St. George Road, Mahendranath shifted, as we have seen, to the same house. He had ample opportunity therefore of observing the Swami at close quarters; added to this, he had a penchant for noting down interesting small details, such as are normally ignored by hagiographers.

Mahendranath had come to London to study law. But the Swami did not approve of this. In a letter dated June 5, 1896 to Mrs. Bull he explained why, and incidentally through this letter he not only evinced how powerfully he himself was influenced by his Master's teachings, but also how he combined with his devotion to his guru his advanced ideas for the material betterment of India.

We learn from him, for instance, how bad the Swami's health was during this period of hard work. One day after lunch the Swami was seated on his reclining chair, thinking or meditating. Suddenly his face reflected a sensation of pain. After a while he exhaled his breath and said to Fox: "Well, Fox, I was feeling intense pain in my heart; it was about to stop functioning. My father died of a heart attack. That is the disease of my lineage."

Another incident recorded by Mahendranath gives one a glimpse into the Swami's thoughts. One day when he was again reclining on his chair, he suddenly sat up straight and said to Fox: "Saint Paul was an educated religious fanatic; I am also an educated religious fanatic and want to create a band of scholar fanatics. You will no-tice that those who are mere religious fanatics — they are of no use; it is only a brain disease which is very harmful. But when a scholar turns into a religious fanatic, he accomplishes a lot. Paul was a scholar-fanatic; so he could reverse the course of Greek philosophy and Roman civilization."

On a different occasion he said to Sturdy: "Vedanta teaches the basic philosophy of all religions; this philosophy is no monopoly of any particular religion. This is why Vedanta will become the universal religion; convert it into universal treasure. The Vedanta must not remain as the closed preserve of a group of narrow-minded people."

Mahendranath related how, on the one hand, the Swami used to mix with the high-born nobility, was invited even by a duke for dinner, and how, on the other hand, he would mingle with the common people as one of their very own. They used to tell him tales of their weal and woe and at times seek his counsel without any of that hesitation commonly felt in regard to aliens. He would become just like one of them.

The London lectures of the Swami were very popular. But there are cranks in every country, and England was no exception. One might number among her eccentrics some Englishmen who had returned home after serving in India and who thenceforth were ostentatiously discourteous to Indians.

The Swami had just started a profound and inspiring lecture on Raja-Yoga. Goodwin was making himself ready to take notes; Swami Saradananda, Sturdy, Fox, and Mahendranath were seated on the sofa at the other end of the hall. The Swami had hardly spoken for five minutes, when a retired Anglo-Indian shouted from the audience with great derision, "Oh, thank you!" Many startled listeners turned toward the man but said nothing, for they were more interested in listening to the lecture. When the heckler repeated the same kind jeering remark at intervals, the audience became visibly annoyed, but the Swami went on speaking unperturbed, without wasting even a glance. At him. Presently he assumed the role of critic. When the Swami eulogized the Buddha, he railed against the Buddha. Again, when the Swami claimed that even at the time of his speaking there were in India monks who had attained to high spiritual states, the man declared them to be thieves and burglars. Sturdy and Goodwin became furious, but they could do nothing to stop the man, for the Swami went on without so much as a look at him. But a limit finally came. Somehow the heckler thought the speaker must be a Bengali Babu, and he tauntingly announced that during the Sepoy Mutiny the English had saved the Bengalis. And now, at last, the Swami turned towards him, his benign face grown fearful. For more than half an hour he went on cogently citing history, exposing the record of the English people's oppression and evil deeds in various countries of the world. One could not have thought of a more powerful and convincing impeachment, under the impact of which the man openly wept-and this so profusely that his three handkerchiefs became soaked with his tears.

Now, turning to the audience, the Swami said in a calm and soothing voice, "Now I come to Pratyahara and Dharana." And he gravely took up his topic where he had left off, as though there had been no disturbance or excitement in the hall.

After the lecture was over the audience rose and greeted him, saying: "Swami, you have taught us a grand lesson in forbearance. Should anyone have insulted us in this manner, we could not have withstood it at all. You are a saint. You are a truly great man."

Captain Sevier, a retired army officer, and his wife, Charlotte, met the, Swami soon after the start of his public lectures in June of 1896. Both of them were earnest students of religion and had sought for the highest truth in various sects and creeds, but none of these had satisfied the yearning of their souls. They were disappointed with the forms and theological dogmas that passed under the name of religion. Having heard from a friend that an "Indian yogi" was going to hold classes on Eastern philosophy, it was with expectant hearts that they came to listen to the exposition of a new religion. What was the surprise of the devoted couple to find, on comparing notes, that when hearing the Swami they had each felt intuitively and simultaneously: "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; but the personality of the Swami also captivated them. The very first time they met him in private, he addressed Mrs. Sevier as "Mother" and asked her, "Would you not like to come to India? I will give you of my best realizations." from that day forward they looked upon him not only as their guru but as their own son. Thus was established a relationship—that was to bring forth fruit of inestimable value in the fulfilment of one of the Swami's great missions in the West. Indeed, he held his disciples Miss Noble (Sister Nivedita) and Captain and Mrs. Sevier as the fairest flowers of his work in England.

And so on. Mr. Sturdy was to write this letter after he had failed to manage the London work successfully in Swamiji's absence. Nevertheless, it indicates that he suffered from certain resentment even in the days of 1896, during which (as we know from letters of a later day) he collected and harbored grievances by the score. "Poor Sturdy!" Miss MacLeod would comment to Sister Nivedita in November of 1899, "You've tried to limit the Limitless by your little yard measure-& you couldn't even come to the knee!

One incident that may have served Sturdy as an "impression" occurred one day in 1896 when he (who did not smoke) bought some inferior pipe tobacco for Swamiji at a bargain. Swamiji found it tasteless; nor did it burn well or draw. After Sturdy had left the room, he said to Goodwin, "Throw this away, my boy. Go out and get me some good tobacco. All day I have to spend talking with people, have to lecture, have to think; I can't even smoke a little if I wish." And with his genius for the apt phrase, he added, "This sour-faced man into whose hands I have fallen has taken the life out of me! Undoubtedly Mr. Sturdy came to learn that his cheap tobacco had been discarded for a better, more expensive brand; it was a rejection that would not be easily forgotten or forgiven. Nor could it have helped matters that Swamiji often praised the young and exuberant Goodwin, who attended to his every need so devotedly and so well.

Of some of these undercurrents one learns from John Fox¬a nice young fellow," a friend of Mrs. Bull's once wrote of him "looking so pure and good." In his goodness and his youth, Mr. Fox was much surprised to find no one perfect at St. George's Road except the two Swamis. "Mr. Sturdy is rather disappointing," he wrote to Mrs. Bull. "The tone of the house is far from the highest. Mr. Goodwin, though very able in many ways, has not yet realized all he has heard [from Swamiji], but I hope is not too old to change"; and again, "[Mr. Goodwin] is more and more disappointing on close acquaintance. Though very able, with very wide knowledge and experience, with great executive ability, he is inclined to be narrow and dog¬matic, wanting his own way always, often very antagonistic and maintaining his view is the right one in the face of all authority. It is a pity he has not assimilated the Vedanta more. . . ."

All sorts and conditions of men are to be found in London, but probably the great city contains just now none more remarkable than the philosopher, who represented the Hindu religion at the "Parliament of Religions," held in Chicago in 1893. In an unobtrusive way he is still teaching and preaching though the public know but little of his work. I lately came across two or three little books containing his addresses on the "Vedanta Philosophy." It would be the merest flippancy to attempt on a cursory reading to discuss here and now the recondite subjects with which they deal. But they are singularly lucid in expression and the ideas which they contain are set forth with much moderation and persuasiveness. The Philosopher, who elects to be known as Swami Vivekananda, believes he has a message for the world, and the burden of his theme is a universal religion. There has been of late a curious interest in the philosophy of the East, and the casual reader may obtain from these little books a tolerably clear idea of its general principles.

(These "little books" were no doubt Mr. Sturdy's publica¬tions through Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Company of Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, and in one volume, "The Ideal of a Universal Religion" and "The Cosmos." These three companion volumes had been brought out under the overall title Addresses on the Vedanta Philosophy.)

In addition to publicity by word of mouth, cards and hand¬bills were printed and distributed, one of which is here re¬produced. As it announced, the titles of Swamiji's first three Sunday lectures (June 7, 14, and 21) were "The Necessity of Religion," "The Ideal of a Universal Religion," and "The Real and the Apparent Man." The first and third of these were transcribed by Goodwin and brought out in pamphlet form by Mr. Sturdy. Subsequently, they were included in the book, Jnana Yoga.

On June 28, July 5, and July 12, Swamiji held a second series of three Sunday afternoon lectures at the Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours, entitled respectively, "Bhakti Yoga," "Renunciation," and "Realization." But of these there are no known transcripts, for on Saturday, June 27, Mr. Goodwin had left for America with Swami Saradananda."*_x000d_ * Swami Saradananda's original plan was to leave London for America with Mr. Goodwin on July 4 (see the Brahmavadin, July I8, 1896, page 278). Indeed the Swami had an engagement to lecture in London on Monday, June 29, before a women's Vegetarian Society on "Vegetarianism." This would have been his first lecture in the Western world, and possibly it was very much to his relief that the date of departure was (for reasons unknown to us) changed first to June 25 and finally to June 27. While the young Swami would have done anything at all for Swamiji, he had not at that time (according to Mahendra) the least desire to give a lecture.

("The Swami recognizes with me that I am really wasting time here, & could do much more good in America," Goodwin wrote to Mrs. Bull on June 4. "He has spoken two or three times of his wish that we had a magazine in the States to keep our people together & assist others in the study of Vedanta. I have thought over the matter carefully, & I have come to the conclusion that my work lies in this direction. Swamiji approved. In a postscript to a letter to Mrs. Bull, dated June 5, he wrote, "Goodwin is writing to you this mail with reference to a magazine in America. I think something of the sort is necessary to keep the work together, and shall of course do all that I can to help it on in the line he suggests. . . . I think it very probable that he will come over with Saradananda. Nothing was to come of this proposed magazine, but Mr. Goodwin did indeed spend the summer of 1896 in America.)

Swamiji's second series of three London lectures at the Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours (which he gave by popular demand) went unrecorded; for as we have noted Mr Goodwin sailed from England with Swami Saradananda on June 27. Thus we know only the titles of the lectures of June 28, July 5, and July 12-which, as mentioned earlier, were, respectively, "Bhakti Yoga," "Renunciation," and "Realisation." Originally, Swamiji's first lecture of this series was to be entitled "Are We Immortal?" But, as we have seen above, in "The Real Nature of Man" he had covered the subject of immortality of the soul, delivering, as it were, two lectures in one. Given thus an extra Sunday, he chose (not insignificantly, one thinks) the title "Bhakti Yoga." Does not one again glimpse here a pattern of presentation? Was not this second London series comparable in subject matter to Swamiji's second series of lectures in New York in February of this same year ¬"Bhakti Yoga," "The Real and the Apparent Man," and "My Master," which last had much to do with renunciation? It is, of course, not possible to speak with any certainty of lectures of which we have not a shred of a note; we can, however, say that Swamiji's second series of lectures in both London and New York contained one lecture on bhakti yoga, one on jnana yoga, and one in which he emphasized renunciation. (In the fall, it may be noted here, he was to lecture in England, as he had in New York, on Sri Ramakrishna.)

During this spring and hot summer Swamiji held at least forty-five classes and gave six Sunday lectures, but even this did not exhaust the extent of his work. From time to time he lectured elsewhere at the invitation of various and somewhat oddly assorted individuals and groups.

The Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours was not within easy walking distance of 63 St. George's Road; therefore the male occupants of the house-Swamiji, Sturdy, Mahendra, John Fox, and, before they left London, Swami Saradananda and Goodwin-would go by a little horse-drawn omnibus, sitting on benches atop the roof. Miss Muller, more regally, would take a hansom cab. Along the route Swamiji would talk lightly with his companions as though he were on his way to listen to a lecture rather than to give one. Even at the Institute he would chat with his assembled friends until it was time for him to take his place on the small platform at one end of the large art gallery, which could seat four or five hundred people on folding chairs.

Mahendra describes at some length the transformation that would come over Swamiji as he commenced his lecture. We need only note here that the moment he revealed himself as the Teacher, his whole appearance, his voice, his gestures became charged with authority. No one failed to be impressed by the grandeur of his bearing. "The Swami is a man of dis¬tinguished appearance," an English interviewer For India (a monthly published in London) commented. "Tall, broad, with fine features enhanced by his picturesque Eastern dress, his personality is very striking. . . . His gifts as an orator are high. He can speak for an hour and a half without a note or the slightest pause for a word. Indeed, the words would pour out, and when the lecture was over, Swamiji would again mingle with the audience, talking affectionately with his friends, answering questions. "Yet even then," Mahendra recalled, "a `lit' look would remain in his face and eyes-the aura of the Prophet still visible.

Swamiji began his first series of three Sunday lectures with the same subject matter as that of his first Sunday lecture in New York during the winter of 1895-96. As the reader will remember, the New York lecture was delivered on the first Sunday of January, 1896, and was entitled "The Claims of Religion: Its Truth and Utility";* the title of the first London lecture, delivered exactly five months later on the first Sunday of June, 1896, was "The Necessity of Religion." In both lectures Swamiji explained what religion is in essence and pointed out the vital need for it in human life. In 1896 Western man had but touched the fringes of scientific discovery; like a child gleefully striking matches in a powder magazine, he was still enchanted with the unending wonder and charm of the light they made. But it was eminently clear to Swamiji that the religion of the future must be infinite in its scope and depth if it was to meet and sustain the age that lay ahead-the age of such unlimited knowledge and fearsome power that without a truly spiritual religion that would embrace and suffuse all aspects of human life only disaster could result. But what was a truly spiritual religion? In his first London lecture Swamiji went into more detail in regard to the origin and meaning of religious inquiry than he had in his comparable New York lecture. His central point, however, was the same:_x000d_ * A discussion of Swamiji's New York lecture "The Claims of Religion: Its Truth and Utility" (Complete Works, volume four) can be found in World Teacher - I, chapter six, section three.

A tremendous statement is made by all religions; that the human mind, at certain moments, transcends not only the limitations of the senses, but also the power of reasoning. It then comes face to face with facts which it could never have sensed, could never have reasoned out. These facts are the basis of all the religions of the world.

In this London lecture Swamiji went on to say that there is one charecteristic common to the supersensuous facts discovered by religions:_x000d_ They are all abstractions as contrasted with the concrete discoveries of physics, for instance…. This one fact stands out from all these different religions, that there is an Ideal Unit Abstraction, which is put before us, wither in the form of a Person, or an Impersonal Being, or a Law, or a Presence, or an Essence. We are always struggling to raise ourselves up to that ideal.

In both New York and London Swamiji asserted that it is the inquiry into that which is beyond the senses and the subsequent struggle to attain to the ideals thus discovered that makes the difference between a man and an animal.

Without the struggle towards the Infinite there can be no ideal [he said in London] …. Man is man so long as he is struggling to rise above nature, and this nature is both internal and external…. It is grand and good to know the laws that govern the stars and planets; it is infinitely grander and better to know the laws that govern the passions, the feelings, the will of mankind. This conquering of the inner man, understanding the secrets of the subtle workings that are within the human mind, and knowing its wonderful secrets, belong entirely to religion. ….

This pursuit of the Infinite, this struggle to grasp the Infinite,… is the grandest and most glorious that man can make.

Indeed in these lectures he seems at times to have been having a sort of dialogue with John Stuart Mill, whose Utilitarianism had been published in 1863.

The utilitarianism of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries had been a radical and exciting theory, militating against a belief in the "natural rights" of the upper classes and supplying a logical, "measurable" test for moral behavior. Applying it to the prevailing social and political conditions, Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832) taught it to his many followers, prominent among whom was James Mill (1773-1830), father of John Stuart Mill (1806-1873). The doctrine was rational, antiromantic, antireligious, and optimistic. Politically and economically speaking, it was at one with the radical winds of liberalism, democracy, and parliamentary reform that were sweeping through the West in the wake of the Industrial Revolution. It was, in short, symptomatic of the times. While John Stuart Mill's version of utilitarianism and his understanding of the scope of human happiness were broader and less prosaic than those of Bentham, to Swamiji's mind, his doctrine fell far short of its purpose, which was to insure the morality, freedom, and dignity of all men-and (ahead of his time) of all women.

The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals, Utility of the Greatest Happiness Principle, holds that actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure, and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain, and the privation of pleasure. . . . The theory of life on which this theory of morality is grounded [is] that pleasure, and freedom from pain, are the only things desirable as ends; and that all desirable things (which are as numerous in the utilitarian as in any other scheme) are desirable either for the pleasure inherent in themselves, or as means to the promotion of pleasure and the prevention of pain.

Lest anyone think (as some did) that this was a doctrine "worthy only of swine," Mill protested rather indignantly that the utilitarian, like every other human being, assigns a higher value to "the pleasure of the intellect, of the feelings and imagination, and of the moral sentiments . . . than to those of mere sensation: The utilitarian, he assured his readers, will always find greater happiness in the higher pleasures, even though only partly realized, than in, say, a satisfied stomach. "It is better," he said, "to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied, and the utilitarian is quite as aware of that, he added testily, as is anyone else.

He then went on to say that "the utilitarian standard . . . is not the agent's own greatest happiness, but the greatest amount of happiness altogether." That is, in the famous phrase used by Bentham, "the greatest happiness of the greatest number" is the ultimate end of human life, and, this being the case, it is also the standard of moral action.

Swamiji would not have disagreed with this principle; but for what utility, he asked in effect, do we care about the happiness of others? What is the basis for that assumed caring? "Utilitarian standards," he said in "The Necessity of Religion," "cannot explain the ethical relations of men; for . . . We cannot derive any ethical laws from considerations of utility. . . . Why should we do good? . . . If happiness is the goal of mankind, why should I not make myself happy and others unhappy? What prevents me? And in New York: "What prevents me from cutting the throats of my brothers so long as I can make myself safe from the police, and make myself happy? What will you answer? You are bound to show some utility.

Mill had several answers to this question. First of all, other people will not approve of you if you put your own happiness: above theirs or secure your own at their expense. Their dis-pleasure will make you unhappy; therefore your conduct in seeking your own happiness will be self-defeating; it will bring you not pleasure but pain. On the other hand, if you act unselfishly in the interest of others, the consequent approval of your fellowmen will bring you happiness. Thus it pays to be unselfish. Those are the "outward motives" or "external sanctions" for considering others. There is an inward motive also: there is something within man which prods him to be unselfish. In other words men somehow have a moral conscience.

And here Swamiji had him: "When you are pushed from your ground you answer, `My friend, it is good to be good.' What is the power in the human mind which says, `It is good to do good,' which unfolds before us in glorious view the grandeur of the soul, the beauty of goodness, the all attractive power of goodness, the infinite power of goodness: That is what we call God, is it not?

Mill did not care to accept this. The primary basis he puts forth for unselfish action is that man is fundamentally a social being.

There is this basis of powerful natural sentiment, and this it is which, when once the general happiness is recognized as the ethical standard, will constitute the strength of the utilitarian morality. This firm foundation is that of the social feelings of mankind.

. . . This feeling in most individuals is much inferior in strength to their selfish feelings, and is often wanting altogether. But to those who have it, it possesses all the characters of a natural feeling . . . [and] is the ultimate sanction of the greatest happiness morality.

To this Swamiji replied in "The Necessity of Religion":_x000d_ The basis of utility is too narrow. All the current social forms and methods [of moral conduct] are derived from society as it exists, but what right has the Utilitarian to assume that society is eternal? Society did not exist ages ago, possibly will not exist ages hence. Most probably it is one of the passing stages through which we are going towards a higher evolution, and any law that is derived from society alone cannot be eternal, cannot cover the whole ground of man's nature. At best, therefore, Utilitarian theories can only work under present social conditions. Beyond that, they have no value. But a morality, an ethical code, derived from religion and spirituality has the whole of infinite man for its scope. It takes up the individual, but its relations are to the Infinite, and it takes up society also-because society is nothing but numbers of these individuals grouped together; and as it applies to the individual and his eternal relations, it must necessarily apply to the whole of society, in whatever condition it may be at any given time. Thus we see that there is always the necessity of spiritual religion for mankind. Man cannot always think of matter, however pleasurable it may be.

Swamiji did not deny that Utilitarians could be very good and moral. "There have been many great men in this world perfectly sound, moral, and good, simply on utilitarian grounds."_x000d_ But [he continued] the world-movers, men who bring, as it were, a mass of magnetism into the world, whose spirit works in hundreds and in thousands, whose life ignites others with a spiritual fire-such men, we always find, have that spiritual background. Their motive power came from religion. Religion is the greatest motive power for realising that infinite energy which is the birthright and nature of every man. In building up character, in making for everything that is good and great, in bringing peace to others and peace to one's own self, religion is the highest motive power and, therefore, ought to be studied from that standpoint.

But the fallacy at the very root of Utilitarianism or, for that matter, of any other ethical system aimed at the perfecting of human society,'* was not only that its basis was too narrow, but that its goal was impossible. In his New York lecture "The Claims of Religion" Swamiji had pointed out that the good in the world was not steadily increasing, nor the evil steadily fading out. "Thousands of means have been created every day to conduce to the happiness of the world," he had said, "and this has been going on for hundreds and thousands of years. I ask you: Is the sum total of the happiness in the world today more than what it was a century ago? It cannot be. Each wave that rises in the ocean must be at the expense of a hollow somewhere. In London Swamiji put forth another aspect of the same argument. "To manifest the Infinite through the finite," he said, "is impossible, and sooner or later man learns to give up the attempt." And herein lay the true basis of morality:_x000d_ _x000d_ * Needless to say, the talkative nineteenth century yielded ethical theories other than Utilitarianism. Nietzsche, for example, felt that the happiness or unhappiness of the greatest number was in itself not of the least importance. "The misfortunes of all these small folk," he says, "do not together constitute a sum total, except in the feelings of mighty men" (quoted in Bertrand Russell's History of Western Philosophy, page 763). Herbert Spencer had still other ideas regarding the small folk: those who could not, out of weakness or disability, adjust to the social state would, if do-gooders would abstain from meddling, simply die off. Schopenhauer saw nothing to be gained by the absence of "want, toil, calamity and frustration." "Work, worry, toil and trouble," he wrote, "are indeed the lot of almost all men their whole life long. And yet if every desire were satisfied as soon as it arose how would men occupy their lives, how woulcl they pass the time? Imagine this race transported to Utopia where everything grows of its own accord and turkeys fly around ready-roasted….: in such a place some men would die of boredom or hang themselves, some would fight and kill one another, and thus they would create for themselves more suffering than nature inflicts on them as it is. Thus for a race such as this no stage, no form existence is suitable other than the one it already possesses" (Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms, ed.and trans. R. J. Hollingdale [New York: Penguin Books, I970], page 43). Karl Marx wanted no part of Jeremy Bentham, who, he said, "assumes the modern petty bourgeois to be the normal man. Whatever seems useful to this queer sort of normal man, and to his world, is regarded as useful in and by itself…. Had I the pluck of my friend Heinrich, Heine, I should call Mr. Jeremy a genius in the way of bourgeois stupidity" (Karl Marx, Capital [NewYork: Everyman's Library, 1951], vol. 2, page 671).

This giving up, this renunciation of the attempt, is the background of ethics. Renunciation is the very basis upon which ethics stands. . . . You have to put yourself last and others before you. The senses say `Myself first.' Ethics says `I must hold myself last' Thus, all codes of ethics are based upon this renunciation; destruction, not construction, of the individual on the material plane. That Infinite will never find expression upon the material plane, nor is it possible or thinkable.

In this first public lecture in London in 1896 Swamiji did not enter into the philosophy behind this last statement. As far as the London public was concerned, he had not yet expounded the principles of Vedanta. Just as in his first public lecture in New York, his purpose here was first to establish the fact that a spiritual ideal, an ideal of something higher than matter or social utility, was essential to the well-being of mankind. Only on that basis could a metaphysical discussion have meaning, (It is interesting to note in this connection that in the Complete Works the have words with which this London lecture closes ; "the One without a second," have replaced the five less philosophical and, to be sure, less resounding words in the original pamphlet, "the God in the universe." Swamiji had been careful in his public lectures not to confound his audience with monistic concepts that he had not yet explained; he took his listeners step by step over this steep and unfamiliar terrain.)

In this same lecture, Swamiji declared with words even more apt today than when he spoke them:_x000d_ _x000d_ All . . . narrow, limited, fighting ideas of religion have to go. . . . As the human mind broadens, so its spiritual steps must broaden. The time has already come when a man cannot record a thought without it reaching to all corners of the earth; by merely physical means we have come into touch with the whole world; so the future religions of the world have to become as universal, as wide. . . .

What is needed is a fellow-feeling between the different types of religion . . . and not the condescending, patronising, niggardly expression of goodwill unfortunately in vogue at the present time with many.

Swamiji answered this question in the second of his Sunday lectures, "The Ideal of a Universal Religion." We have no transcript or report of this talk, but according to a letter written by Goodwin on June 23, 1896, to the Brahmavadin it was in substance the same as Swamiji's lecture of that title given in New York at Hardman Hall, which was already in print. In the previous volume we discussed some of the points of that New York lecture, delivered on January 12 of 1896; it will suffice to remind the reader that Swamiji considered religious harmony to be of extreme importance to the West. And the possibility of such harmony depended on the definition of religion itself. IF man's ideal of religion could be broad enough and deep enough, then only could it embrace all varieties of religious forms and practices and satisfy all types of human beings the world over.

A harmony of religions, rooted deep in the unchanging spiritual nature of man and therefore stable, was among the most practical applications of Vedantic teachings, and it is not surprising that wherever he went Swamiji never failed to impress his audiences first off with the need for and basis of that harmony. In this connection, it is interesting to read his thoughts on this subject just as he jotted them down on a scrap of paper, possibly in hurried preparation for a lecture. The following two sets of heretofore unpublished notes have been made available to us by the Vedanta Centre of Cohasset, Massachusetts, and are presented here with the kind permission of Srimata Gayatri Devi. It is probable that in the early years of the twentieth century Miss Ellen Waldo gave these cherished papers that bore Swamiji's handwriting to her friend Sister Devamata, by then a disciple of Swami Paramananda and a member of the Boston (now Cohasset) Vedanta Centre. This probability would lead to the assumption that Swamiji made these notes in America; nonetheless, he expressed these ideas everywhere, and they are as germane to London as to New York. He wrote:

Man will need a religion so long as he is constituted _x000d_ as at present._x000d_ The forms will change from time to time_x000d_ The dissatisfaction with the senses._x000d_ The yearning beyond._x000d_ There were encroachments of religion on the_x000d_ domains of physical science-these [encroachments] _x000d_ religion is giving up every day._x000d_ Yet there is a vast field covered by religion where physical science(s] are mute._x000d_ The (vain?] attempt to keep man strictly_x000d_ within the limits of the senses¬_x000d_ Because-there are men who catch a_x000d_ glimpse now and then of the infinite beyond. _x000d_ The types of men._x000d_ The worker-the mystic the emotional_x000d_ the intellectual._x000d_ Each type is necessary for the well being_x000d_ of society. The dangers of each-_x000d_ A mixture minimizes the danger_x000d_ The East is too full of mystics & meditative_x000d_ the west of workers-_x000d_ An exchange will be for the good of both._x000d_ ___________x000d_ _x000d_ The necessity of religion¬_x000d_ The four types of men _x000d_ that come to religion¬-_x000d_ the basis of Unity- the Divinity_x000d_ in man Why use this term?_x000d_ The western Society has work_x000d_ and intellectual philosophy¬_x000d_ But work must not be destructive_x000d_ of others._x000d_ Philosophy-must not be only dry intellectuality

His audience, which had filled almost every seat (Mr. Fox said) to hear "The Ideal of a Universal Religion," was ready now for a more detailed exposition of those principles themselves. They were ready, that is, to hear some of the basic principles of Vedanta. In his third and fourth lectures in New York, he had explained the Vedantic cosmology-first, that of the external universe; "The Macrocosm"; second, that of the internal universe, "The Microcosm."

In the third lecture of his first London series, "The Real and the Apparent Man"-or, as entitled in the Complete Works (to distinguish it, no doubt, from the New York lecture) and as I shall henceforth call it, "The Real Nature of Man"-his subject matter was in effect the same as in the two "Cosmos" lectures.

In this London lecture Swamiji first briefly reviewed the Indian theory of cyclic manifestation and dissolution, which he had thoroughly discussed in the New York "Macrocosm,” reconciling the scientific view of evolution from mollusc to man with the religious view of man's fall from perfection. He then proceeded, as he had in the New York "Microcosm," to turn the scientific outlook on its head. Not matter, he said in effect, but Spirit is the one basic substance of man, God; and the world. His approach in London, however, was different than it had been in the New York "Microcosm”. There he had arrived at the true nature of man through a psychological, or epistemological, argument; he now came to the same conclusion by means of philosophy.

The then prevailing scientific view was that man and every thing else was fundamentally matter and that man's actions were mechanically determined. Indeed, Thomas Huxley was of the extreme opinion that consciousness was a mere echo of molecular movements in the nervous system. William James, it is true, argued against this "automaton-theory," pointing out that since consciousness was there, it had "in all probability been evolved, like all other functions, for a use." This use, it seemed, was through various states of mind, to "steer the nervous system and keep it in the path which to the consciousness seemed best. In other words, consciousness, James conceded, played an important part in human action even though, as he had also said, all mental states and feelings "have brain processes for the condition of existence. At the other extreme was the metaphysical position (which Swamiji also held) that "the force called thought" manifests the body. But Swamiji did not stop there; he jumped beyond both views and pointed to a force underlying and manifesting both matter and mind.*_x000d_ _x000d_ * For a resume of Swamiji's detailed teachings regarding matter and mind in his New York classes on jnana yoga, see World Teacher- I, chapter six, section seven.

One of the most difficult and certainly one of the most important tasks of his mission was to convey to the West the concept of the Self. Inasmuch as the basic outlook and structure of any culture hinges on what it considers to be the essential nature of man, he took the utmost pains to convincingly present this most central of his teachings, approaching it from all directions. In his London lecture he built his argument on the scientists' own ground. In skeletal form, his reasoning went like this:

There is a great discussion going on as to whether the aggregate of materials we call the body is the cause of manifestation of the force we call the soul, thought, etc., or whether it is the thought that manifests this body. . . . Taking the . . . position that the soul or the mass of thought . . . is the outcome of this machine, the outcome of the chemical and physical combinations of matter making up the body and brain, leaves the question un¬answered. What makes the body? What .force combines the molecules into the body form? . . . If you say that some other force was the cause of these combinations . . . it is no answer. . . . It is more logical to say that the force which takes up the matter and forms the body is the same which manifests through that body. To say, therefore, that the thought forces manifested by the body are the outcome of the arrangement of molecules and have no independent existence has no meaning; neither can force evolve out of matter. Rather is it possible to demonstrate that what we call matter does not exist at all. It is only a certain state of force. . . . What is the force which manifests itself through the body?

It was this question that Swamiji, having posed, answered by referring to the ancient philosophy of India. As he had in "The Microcosm," he spoke of the subtle body-"the bright body." But even this "has form . . . and requires something else behind it to move it"

That something [he went on] was called the soul, the Atman in Sanskrit. . . . What is this Atman, this soul of man which is neither the body nor the mind? Great dis¬cussions followed. Speculations were made, various shades of philosophic inquiry came into existence; and I shall try to place before you some of the conclusions that have been reached about this Atman.

Pushing further than he had in his comparable American lecture "The Microcosm," in which he had stopped in his argument with the individual soul, Swamiji now went on to outline the steps leading to the conclusion that "as this Atman is beyond the mind and formless, it must be beyond time, beyond space, and beyond causation. . . ..[Therefore,] it must be infinite. Then comes the highest speculation in our philosophy. The infinite cannot be two. If the soul be infinite, there can be only one Soul, and all ideas of various souls-you having one soul, and I having another, and so forth are not real." And then the crux of the matter:

The Real Man, therefore, is one and infinite, the omni¬present Spirit. And the apparent man is only a limitation of that Real Man. In that sense the mythologies [that man has degenerated from a state of perfection] are true: the apparent man, however great he may be, is only a dim reflection of the Real Man who is beyond. The Real Man, the Spirit, being beyond cause and effect, not bound by time and space, must, therefore, be free. He was never bound, and could not be bound. The apparent man, the reflection, is limited by time, space, and causation, and is, therefore, bound. Or in the language of some of our philosophers, he appears to be bound, but really is not.

Here was the root answer to Utilitarianism:_x000d_ _x000d_ One idea stands out as the centre of all ethical systems, expressed in various forms, namely doing good to others. The guiding motive of mankind should be charity towards men, charity towards all animals. But these are all various expressions of that eternal truth that "I am the universe; this universe is one." Or else, where is the reason? Why should I do good to my fellowmen? Why should I do good to others? What compels me? It is sympathy, the feeling of sameness everywhere. . . . What is perfect self-abnegation? It means the abnegation of this apparent self, the abnegation of all selfishness[,] . . . And the more this pres¬ent self passes. Away, the more the real Self becomes manifest. This is true self abnegation, the centre, the axis, the gist of all moral teaching; and whether man knows it or not, the whole world is slowly going towards it, practising it more or less. Only the vast majority of mankind are doing it unconsciously. Let them do it consciously. Let them make the sacrifice, knowing that this "me and mine" is not the real Self, but only a limitation.

This eloquent and important lecture "was so complete [a treatment of the subject]," Mr. Fox reported, "as to cover the ground of next Sunday's lecture `Are We Immortal?' so that subject has been changed to `Bhakti Yoga. Indeed it was in "The Real Nature of Man" that Swamiji reached the heart of his message to the public, here that he presented to Western man an entirely new outlook-an outlook so transcendental and yet so rational that it subsumed and quieted the two warring views that had been exercising Western thought for centuries-that of Idealism, in which mind is said to produce matter, and that of Materialism, in which matter is said to produce mind. Nor was this lecture only an explanation of the Vedanta philosophy; it was also an exhortation, a practical teaching:

Can [the knowledge of the Spirit] be practised in modern society? Truth does not pay homage to any society, ancient or modern. Society has to pay homage to Truth or die. Societies should be moulded upon truth, and truth has not to adjust itself to society. . . . That society is the greatest, where the highest truths become practical. That is my opinion; and if society is not fit for the highest truths, make it so; and the sooner, the better. Stand up, men and women, in this spirit, dare to believe in the Truth; dare to practise the Truth! The world requires a few hundred bold men and women. Practise that boldness which dares know the Truth, which dares show the Truth in life, which does not quake before death, nay, welcomes death, makes a man know that he is the Spirit, that in the whole universe nothing can kill him. Then you will be free. . . .

. . . Say to your own minds, "I am He, I am He." Let it ring day and night in your minds like a song, and at the point of death declare, "I am He." That is the Truth; the infinite strength of the world is yours. Drive out the superstition that has covered your minds. Let us be brave. Know the Truth and practise the Truth. The goal may be distant, but awake, arise, and stop not till the goal is reached.

Mrs. Martin was the wife of one of the most wealthy and prominent bankers in England, a scion of the landed gentry, next to titled aristocracy in rank and second to none in security. The banking house in which the Biddulph Martin family had been partners for generations was of fifteenth-century origin and of such rocklike stability that it could well afford its name, The Grasshopper of Lombard Street. In 1896, Mrs. John Biddulph Martin, then fifty-eight, had been a member of this stolid family for thirteen years and was to remain contentedly so for the rest of her long life. It was a life totally different in all respects from that which she had pursued before her marriage.

Born in a small Ohio town to what one historian aptly describes as "a family of pathologically turbulent poor whites, Victoria Claflin Woodhull became, through dazzling temerity, the American firebrand of the 1870s. Not only was she the first lady broker on Wall Street, the first woman to address a Congressional committee, the first woman to run for president of the United States (nominated by the Equal Rights Party), the first person in America-man or woman ¬to print the Communist Manifesto, which she did in the weekly she and her sister edited and published, not only did she campaign for radical social, political, and economic reforms, but, most arrestingly, she persisted in waving the flag of "free love." This was by no means a new doctrine in the nineteenth century, but it was a profoundly shocking one, violating, as it did, all the conventions and taboos of a family-oriented society. The topic was not mentioned in mixed company, let alone in public. But Victoria Claflin Woodhull fearlessly announced her advocacy of "free love" from the housetops, declaring, moreover, that marriage "was the most consummate outrage on women. that was ever conceived"-a sentiment not shared in the 1870s by the generality of American housewives. With her beauty, brilliance, and unfailing magnetism, The Woodhull (as she was called) attracted thousands of people to her inflammatory lectures, sweeping them off their feet; inevitably, however, she also provoked severe criticism and censure. Angry at this injustice (as she felt it to be), she set about exposing the scandalous hypocrisy of one of the most esteemed pillars of society. This was a mistake. The other pillars stood by their own, and Victoria Woodhull soon found herself in jail, where she languished for several weeks.

Her health collapsed; and then with complete suddenness her whole approach to life underwent a transformation. She now turned to a religion somewhat of her own devising and, with the same fervent conviction and intensity as she had talked of social and political freedom, began to talk and write about the Garden of Eden and the "Seventh Seal" of the Bible. But it was not until the young John Biddulph Martin had (unaccountably) attended a religious lecture of hers in London and had determined then and there to marry her that the then twice-divorced Victoria Woodhull began a long and arduous campaign to throw a cloak of respectability over her past. It was, however, to be six long years before the Martin family consented to the marriage and even longer before London society accepted Mrs. Martin into its drawing rooms and entered into hers.*_x000d_ * A number of books and articles have been written on the life of Victoria Claflin Woodhull. Her history enters also into larger histories of the United States. In recording a few of the known facts of her astonishing career, I have drawn primarily on The Terrible Siren by Emanie Sachs and Mrs. Satan by Johanna Johnston. (See Bibliography.)

By the time Swamiji met Mrs. John Biddulph Martin, her transformation from the flaming Victoria Claflin Woodhull to the sedate and gracious matron of the English Establishment was complete. As a serious hobby, she now edited and published, not the explosive Woodhull and Clafiin's Weekly but the staid Humanitarian, a periodical devoted to the prevention of cruelty to men and animals. There is some evidence that the once defiantly unconventional Mrs. Martin was bored with all this respectability, particularly after it was secured, and it is not at all unlikely that Swamiji brought a welcome shaft of light into what she referred to as her "dreary, smoky, foggy" London world. She was by no means unperceptive and surely would not only have recognized greatness when she saw it but have been strongly attracted by Swamiji's majestic air of freedom and independence, qualities she had in her own way striven for all her life. "Mrs. Biddulph Martin, who is I believe a very noble woman . . . Is a great admirer of Swami, Mr. Sturdy was to write in April of the following year to Miss MacLeod.

Whether or not Swamiji was aware of Mrs. Martin's remarkable history we do not know; nor could her past have mattered to him, except as it spoke of spirit, courage, and that quality which had led an American reporter to call her "a small splinter of the indestructible. In any event, his only known reference to Mrs. Martin is found in a letter of July 6 to Mr. Francis Leggett: "You must already know a good deal about [Mrs. Martin] from Joe. How much Joe knew is a matter of conjecture. But so well publicized a history as Victoria Woodhull's could scarcely, despite her efforts, be altogether buried; it kept surfacing. Among Mrs. Bull's papers of 1896, for instance, has been found an undated clipping from the Boston Herald which reviewed The Woodhull's advocacy of "social freedom." Across it Mrs. Bull had written, "for Mr. Goodwin: Please show to Dr. Janes and then return to me. . . . I wish this for my records & cannot give it up.

63 St. George's Road, London S.W._x000d_ 5th June, 1896_x000d_ Dear Mrs. Bull,_x000d_ The Raja-Yoga book is going on splendidly. Saradananda goes to the States soon._x000d_ I do not like any one whom I love to become a lawyer, although my father was one. My Master was against it, and I believe that that family is sure to come to grief where there are several lawyers. Our country is full of them; the universities turn them out by the hundreds. What my nation wants is pluck and scientific genius. So I want Mohin to be an electrician. Even if he fails in life, still I will have the satisfaction that he strove to become great and really useful to his country. . . . In America alone there is something in the air which brings out whatever is best in every one. . . . I want him to be daring, bold, and to struggle to cut a new path for himself and his nation. An electrical engineer can make a living in India._x000d_ Yours with love,_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ PS. Goodwin is writing to you this mail with reference to a magazine in America. I think something of the sort is necessary to keep the work together, and shall of course do all that I can to help it on in the line he suggests. _x000d_ . . . I think it very probable that he will come over with Saradananda.

In this letter he wrote: _x000d_ You know my brother Mohin is here in London for the last two months. He intends to become a barrister. He has also a lik-ing, he says, for electrical engineering. _x000d_ Now I do not like anyone of my blood would become a lawyer although my father was one. My Master was against it, and I believe that family is sure to come to grief where there are several lawyers. Secondly — the country is full of lawyers, the univer-sities turn them [out] by hundreds with the uniform result that they starve. Again, what my nation wants is pluck and scientific genius. So I intend him to be an electrician. Even if he fails in life, still I will have the satisfaction that he strove to become great and really useful to his country. _x000d_ There are good schools for training electricians here no doubt. But in America alone there is that something in the air which brings out whatever is best in everyone. So I want him to go to America and be put under some good electricians and try his ven-ture. The Raja of Khetri will send him some money. I have £300 with me, I can give him the whole of it. You promised me £100 a year. I do not want it. I want my brother to be daring hold and struggle to cut a new path for himself and his nation.... Pluck is what my nation wants and scientific education....

Though the ideal of work of our Brahmavadin should always be "{Sanskrit}--To work thou hast the right, but never to the fruits thereof", yet no sincere worker passes out of the field of activity without making himself known and catching at least a few rays of light._x000d_ The beginning of our work has been splendid, and the steady earnestness shown by our friends is beyond all praise. Sincerity of conviction and purity of motive will surely gain the day; and even a small minority, armed with these, is surely destined to prevail against all odds._x000d_ Keep away from all insincere claimants to supernatural illumination; not that such illumination is impossible, but, my friends, in this world of ours "Lust, or gold, or fame" is the hidden motive behind ninety per cent of all such claims, and of the remaining ten per cent, nine per cent are cases which require the tender care of physicians more than the attention of metaphysicians._x000d_ The first great thing to accomplish is to establish a character, to obtain, as we say, the {Sanskrit} (established in Wisdom). This applies equally to individuals and to organised bodies of individuals. Do not fret because the world looks with suspicion at every new attempt, even though it be in the path of spirituality. The poor world, how often has it been cheated! The more the {Sanskrit}, that is, the worldly aspect of life, looks at any growing movement with eyes of suspicion, or, even better still, presents to it a semi-hostile front, so much the better is it for the movement. If there is any truth this movement has to disseminate, any need it is born to supply, soon will condemnation be changed into praise, and contempt converted into love. People in these days are apt to take up religion as a means to some social or political end. Beware of this. Religion is its own end. That religion which is only a means to worldly well-being is not religion, whatever else it may be; and it is sheer blasphemy against God and man to hold that man has no other end than the free and full enjoyment of all the pleasure of his senses._x000d_ Truth, purity, and unselfishness--wherever these are present, there is no power below or above the sun to crush the possessor thereof. Equipped with these, one individual is able to face the whole universe in opposition._x000d_ Above all, beware of compromises. I do not mean that you are to get into antagonism with anybody, but you have to hold on to your own principles in weal or woe and never adjust them to others' "fads" through the greed of getting supporters. Your Atman is the support of the universe--whose support do you stand in need of? Wait with patience and love and strength; if helpers are not ready now, they will come in time. Why should we be in a hurry? The real working force of all great work is in its almost unperceived beginnings._x000d_ Whoever could have thought that the life and teachings of a boy born of poor Brahmin parents in a wayside Bengal village would, in a few years, reach such distant lands as our ancestors never even dreamed of? I refer to Bhagavan Ramakrishna. Do you know that Prof. Max Muller has already written an article on Shri Ramakrishna for the Nineteenth Century, and will be very glad to write a larger and fuller account of his life and teachings if sufficient materials are forthcoming? What an extraordinary man is Prof. 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. "{Sanskrit}-- _x000d_ They who are devoted to those who love Me--they are My best devotees." Is that not true?_x000d_ The Professor was first induced to inquire about the power behind, which led to sudden and momentous changes in the life of the late Keshab 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 the 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 a disciple of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa."_x000d_ The visit was really a revelation to me. That nice little house in 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 Brahmarshis and Rajarshis, the days of the great Vanaprasthas, the days of Arundhatis and Vasishthas._x000d_ 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. Where others lose themselves in the desert of dry details, he has struck the well-spring of life. Indeed his heartbeats have caught the rhythm of the Upanishads "{Sanskrit}--Know the Atman alone, and leave off all other talk."_x000d_ Although a world-moving scholar and philosopher, his learning and philosophy have only led him higher and higher to the realisation of the Spirit, his {Sanskrit} (lower knowledge) has indeed helped him to reach the {Sanskrit} (higher knowledge). This is real learning. {Sanskrit}--"Knowledge gives humility." Of what use is knowledge if it does not show us the way to the Highest?_x000d_ 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 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 heartfelt love, till they have all sunk into his very soul and coloured his whole being._x000d_ Max Muller is a Vedantist of Vedantists. He has, indeed, caught the real soul of the melody of the Vedanta, in the midst of all its settings of harmonies and discords--the one light that lightens the sects and creeds of the world, the Vedanta, the one principle of which all religions are only applications. And what was Ramakrishna Paramahamsa? The practical demonstration of this ancient principle, the embodiment of India that is past, and a foreshadowing of the India that is to be, the bearer of spiritual light unto nations. The jeweller alone can understand the worth of jewels; this is an old proverb. Is it a wonder that this Western sage does study and appreciate every new star in the firmament of Indian thought, before even the Indians themselves realise its magnitude?_x000d_ "When are you coming to India? Every heart there would welcome one who has 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 eyes, a gentle nodding of the head, and slowly the words come 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. Who knows but that it was what the poet has said--{Sanskrit}_x000d_ --"He remembers with his mind the friendships of former births, firmly rooted in his heart."_x000d_ His life has been a blessing to the world; and may it be many, many years more, before he changes the present plane of his existence!

63 St. George's Road, London_x000d_ 7th June, 1896_x000d_ Dear Miss Noble {Nivedita},_x000d_ My ideal indeed can be put into a few words and that is: to preach unto mankind their divinity, and how to make it manifest in every movement of life._x000d_ This world is in chain of superstition. I pity the oppressed, whether man or woman, and I pity more the oppressors._x000d_ One idea that I see clear as daylight is that misery is caused by ignorance and nothing else. Who will give the world light? Sacrifice in the past has been the Law, it will be, alas, for ages to come. The earth's bravest and best will have to sacrifice themselves for the good of many, for the welfare of all. Buddhas by the hundred are necessary with eternal love and pity._x000d_ Religions of the world have become lifeless mockeries. What the world wants is character. The world is in need of those whose life is one burning love, selfless. That love will make every word tell like thunderbolt._x000d_ It is no superstition with you, I am sure, you have the making in you of a world-mover, and others will also come. Bold words and bolder deeds are what we want. Awake, awake, great ones! The world is burning with misery. Can you sleep? Let us call and call till the sleeping gods awake, till the god within answers to the call. What more is in life? What greater work? The details come to me as I go. I never make plans. Plans grow and work themselves. I only say, awake, awake!_x000d_ May all blessings attend you for ever!_x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

The Swami's one concern, the central motive that flamed through his words and drove him to tireless activity, to endless giving of himself and of his light to others, was his desire to awaken all humanity to its own godhood, to free men every- where from the bondage of ignorance. This ideal he expressed in an inspired and inspiring letter to Miss Margaret Noble she who was to become Sister Nivedita. His letter, written from St. George's Road, was dated June 7, 1896 the day he opened his public lectures. It is given here in full:

Of all the forces that have worked and are still working to mould the destinies of the human race, none, certainly, is more potent than that, the manifestation of which we call religion. All social organisations have as a background, somewhere, the workings of that peculiar force, and the greatest cohesive impulse ever brought into play amongst human units has been derived from this power. It is obvious to all of us that in very many cases the bonds religion have proved stronger than the bonds of race, or climate, or even of descent. It is a well-known fact that persons worshipping the same God, believing in the same religion, have stood by each other, with much greater strength and constancy, than people of merely the same descent, or even brothers. Various attempts have been made to trace the beginnings of religion. In all the ancient religions which have come down to us at the present day, we find one claim made--that they are all supernatural, that their genesis is not, as it were, in the human brain, but that they have originated somewhere outside of it._x000d_ Two theories have gained some acceptance amongst modern scholars. One is the spirit theory of religion, the other the evolution of the idea of the Infinite. One party maintains that ancestor worship is the beginning of religious ideas; the other, that religion originates in the personification of the power of nature. Man wants to keep up the memory of his dead relatives and thinks they are living even when the body is dissolved, and he wants to place food for them and, in a certain sense, to worship them. Out of that came the growth we call religion._x000d_ Studying the ancient religions of the Egyptians, Babylonians, Chinese, and many other races in America and elsewhere, we find very clear traces of this ancestor worship being the beginning of religion. With the ancient Egyptians, the first idea of the soul was that of a double. Every human body contained in it another being very similar to it; and when a man died, this double went out of the body and yet lived on. But the life of the double lasted only so long as the dead body remained intact, and that is why we find among the Egyptians so much solicitude to keep the body uninjured. And that is why they built those huge pyramids in which they preserved the bodies. For, if any portion of the external body was hurt, the double would be correspondingly injured. This is clearly ancestor worship. With the ancient Babylonians we find the same idea of the double, but with a variation. The double lost all sense of love; it frightened the living to give it food and drink, and to help it in various ways. It even lost all affection for its own children and its own wife. Among the ancient Hindus also, we find traces of this ancestor worship. Among the Chinese, the basis of their religion may also be said to be ancestor worship, and it still permeates the length and breadth of that vast country. In fact, the only religion that can really be said to flourish in China is that of ancestor worship. Thus it seems, on the one hand, a very good position is made out for those who hold the theory of ancestor worship as the beginning of religion._x000d_ On the other hand, there are scholars who from the ancient Aryan literature show that religion originated in nature worship. Although in India we find proofs of ancestor worship everywhere, yet in the oldest records there is no trace of it whatsoever. In the Rig-Veda Samhita, the most ancient record of the Aryan race, we do not find any trace of it. Modern scholars think, it is the worship of nature that they find there. The human mind seems to struggle to get a peep behind the scenes. The dawn, the evening, the hurricane, the stupendous and gigantic forces of nature, its beauties, these have exercised the human mind, and it aspires to go beyond, to understand something about them. In the struggle they endow these phenomena with personal attributes, giving them souls and bodies, sometimes beautiful, sometimes transcendent. Every attempt ends by these phenomena becoming abstractions whether personalised or not. So also it is found with the ancient Greeks; their whole mythology is simply this abstracted nature worship. So also with the ancient Germans, the Scandinavians, and all the other Aryan races. Thus, on this side, too, a very strong case has been made out, that religion has its origin in the personification of the forces of nature._x000d_ These two views, though they seem to be contradictory, can be reconciled on a third basis, which, to my mind, is the real germ of religion, and that I propose to call the struggle to transcend the limitations of the senses. Either, man goes to seek for the spirits of his ancestors, the spirits of the dead, that is, he wants to get a glimpse of what there is after the body is dissolved, or, he desires to understand the power working behind the stupendous phenomena of nature. Whichever of these is the case, one thing is certain, that he tries to transcend the limitations of the senses. He cannot remain satisfied with his senses; he wants to go beyond them. The explanation need not be mysterious. To me it seems very natural that the glimpse of religion should come through dreams. The first idea of immortality man may well get through dreams. Is that not a most wonderful state? And we know that children and untutored minds find very little difference between dreaming and their awakened state. What can be more natural than that they find, as natural logic, that even during the sleep state when the body is apparently dead, the mind goes on with all its intricate workings? What wonder that men will at once come to the conclusion that when this body is dissolved for ever, the same working will go on? This, to my mind, would be a more natural explanation of the supernatural, and through this dream idea the human mind rises to higher and higher conceptions. Of course, in time, the vast majority of mankind found out that these dreams are not verified by their waking states, and that during the dream state it is not that man has a fresh existence, but simply that he recapitulates the experiences of the awakened state._x000d_ But by this time the search had begun, and the search was inward, and man continued inquiring more deeply into the different stages of the mind and discovered higher states than either the waking or the dreaming. This state of things we find in all the organised religions of the world, called either ecstasy or inspiration. In all organised religions, their founders, prophets, and messengers are declared to have gone into states of mind that were neither waking nor sleeping, in which they came face to face with a new series of facts relating to what is called the spiritual kingdom. They realised things there much more intensely than we realise facts around us in our waking state. Take, for instance, the religions of the Brahmins. The Vedas are said to be written by Rishis. These Rishis were sages who realised certain facts. The exact definition of the Sanskrit word Rishi is a Seer of Mantras--of the thoughts conveyed in the Vedic hymns. These men declared that they had realised--sensed, if that word can be used with regard to the supersensuous--certain facts, and these facts they proceeded to put on record. We find the same truth declared amongst both the Jews and the Christians. _x000d_ Some exceptions may be taken in the case of the Buddhists as represented by the Southern sect. It may be asked--if the Buddhists do not believe in any God or soul, how can their religion be derived from the supersensuous state of existence? The answer to this is that even the Buddhists find an eternal moral law, and that moral law was not reasoned out in our sense of the word. But Buddha found it, discovered it, in a supersensuous state. Those of you who have studied the life of Buddha, even as briefly given in that beautiful poem, The Light of Asia, may remember that Buddha is represented as sitting under the Bo-tree until he reached that supersensuous state of mind. All his teachings came through this, and not through intellectual cogitations._x000d_ Thus, a tremendous statement is made by all religions; that the human mind, at certain moments, transcends not only the limitations of the senses, but also the power of reasoning. It then comes face to face with facts which it could never have sensed, could never have reasoned out. These facts are the basis of all the religions of the world. Of course we have the right to challenge these facts, to put them to the test of reason. Nevertheless, all the existing religions of the world claim for the human mind this peculiar power of transcending the limits of the senses and the limits of reason; and this power they put forward as a statement of fact._x000d_ Apart from the consideration of the question how far these facts claimed by religions are true, we find one characteristic common to them all. They are all abstractions as contrasted with the concrete discoveries of physics, for instance; and in all the highly organised religions they take the purest form of Unit Abstraction, either in the form of an Abstracted Presence, as an Omnipresent Being, as an Abstract Personality called God, as a Moral Law, or in the form of an Abstract Essence underlying every existence. In modern times, too, the attempts made to preach religions without appealing to the supersensuous state of mind have had to take up the old abstractions of the Ancients and give different names to them as "Moral Law", the "Ideal Unity", and so forth, thus showing that these abstractions are not in the senses. None of us have yet seen an "Ideal Human Being", and yet we are told to believe in it. None of us have yet seen an ideally perfect man, and yet without that ideal we cannot progress. Thus, this one fact stands out from all these different religions, that there is an Ideal Unit Abstraction, which is put before us, either in the form of a Person or an Impersonal Being, or a Law, or a Presence, or an Essence. We are always struggling to raise ourselves up to that ideal. Every human being, whosoever and wheresoever he may be, has an ideal of infinite power. Every human being has an ideal of infinite pleasure. Most of the works that we find around us, the activities displayed everywhere, are due to the struggle for this infinite power or this infinite pleasure. But a few quickly discover that although they are struggling for infinite power, it is not through the senses that it can be reached. They find out very soon that that infinite pleasure is not to be got through the senses, or, in other words, the senses are too limited, and the body is too limited, to express the Infinite. To manifest the Infinite through the finite is impossible, and sooner or later, man learns to give up the attempt to express the Infinite through the finite. This giving up, this renunciation of the attempt, is the background of ethics. Renunciation is the very basis upon which ethics stands. There never was an ethical code preached which had not renunciation for its basis._x000d_ Ethics always says, "Not I, but thou." Its motto is, "Not self, but non-self." The vain ideas of individualism, to which man clings when he is trying to find that Infinite Power or that Infinite Pleasure through the senses, have to be given up--say the laws of ethics. You have to put yourself last, and others before you. The senses say, "Myself first." Ethics says, "I must hold myself last." Thus, all codes of ethics are based upon this renunciation; destruction, not construction, of the individual on the material plane. That Infinite will never find expression upon the material plane, nor is it possible or thinkable._x000d_ So, man has to give up the plane of matter and rise to other spheres to seek a deeper expression of that Infinite. In this way the various ethical laws are being moulded, but all have that one central idea, eternal self-abnegation. Perfect self-annihilation is the ideal of ethics. People are startled if they are asked not to think of their individualities. They seem so very much afraid of losing what they call their individuality. At the same time, the same men would declare the highest ideals of ethics to be right, never for a moment thinking that the scope, the goal, the idea of all ethics is the destruction, and not the building up, of the individual._x000d_ Utilitarian standards cannot explain the ethical relations of men, for, in the first place, we cannot derive any ethical laws from considerations of utility. Without the supernatural sanction as it is called, or the perception of the superconscious as I prefer to term it, there can be no ethics. Without the struggle towards the Infinite there can be no ideal. Any system that wants to bind men down to the limits of their own societies is not able to find an explanation for the ethical laws of mankind. The Utilitarian wants us to give up the struggle after the Infinite, the reaching-out for the Super-sensuous, as impracticable and absurd, and, in the same breath, asks us to take up ethics and do good to society. Why should we do good? Doing good is a secondary consideration. We must have an idea. Ethics itself is not the end, but the means to the end. If the end is not there, why should we be ethical? Why should I do good to other men, and not injure them? If happiness is the goal of mankind, why should I not make myself happy and others unhappy? What prevents me? In the second place, the basis of utility is too narrow. All the current social forms and methods are derived from society as it exists, but what right has the Utilitarian to assume that society is eternal? Society did not exist ages ago, possibly will not exist ages hence. Most probably it is one of the passing stages through which we are going towards a higher evolution, and any law that is derived from society alone cannot be eternal, cannot cover the whole ground of man's nature. At best, therefore, Utilitarian theories can only work under present social conditions. Beyond that they have no value. But a morality, an ethical code, derived from religion and spirituality, has the whole of infinite man for its scope. It takes up the individual, but its relations are to the Infinite, and it takes up society also--because society is nothing but numbers of these individuals grouped together; and as it applies to the individual and his eternal relations, it must necessarily apply to the whole of society, in whatever condition it may be at any given time. Thus we see that there is always the necessity of spiritual religion for mankind. Man cannot always think of matter, however pleasurable it may be._x000d_ It has been said that too much attention to things spiritual disturbs our practical relations in this world. As far back as in the days of the Chinese sage Confucius, it was said, "Let us take care of this world: and then, when we have finished with this world, we will take care of other world." It is very well that we should take care of this world. But if too much attention to the spiritual may affect a little our practical relations, too much attention to the so-called practical hurts us here and hereafter. It makes us materialistic. For man is not to regard nature as his goal, but something higher._x000d_ Man is man so long as he is struggling to rise above nature, and this nature is both internal and external. Not only does it comprise the laws that govern the particles of matter outside us and in our bodies, but also the more subtle nature within, which is, in fact, the motive power governing the external. It is good and very grand to conquer external nature, but grander still to conquer our internal nature. It is grand and good to know the laws that govern the stars and planets; it is infinitely grander and better to know the laws that govern the passions, the feelings, the will, of mankind. This conquering of the inner man, understanding the secrets of the subtle workings that are within the human mind, and knowing its wonderful secrets, belong entirely to religion. Human nature--the ordinary human nature, I mean--wants to see big material facts. The ordinary man cannot understand anything that is subtle. Well has it been said that the masses admire the lion that kills a thousand lambs, never for a moment thinking that it is death to the lambs, although a momentary triumph for the lion; because they find pleasure only in manifestations of physical strength. Thus it is with the ordinary run of mankind. They understand and find pleasure in everything that is external. But in every society there is a section whose pleasures are not in the senses, but beyond, and who now and then catch glimpses of something higher than matter and struggle to reach it. And if we read the history of nations between the lines, we shall always find that the rise of a nation comes with an increase in the number of such men; and the fall begins when this pursuit after the Infinite, however vain Utilitarians may call it, has ceased. That is to say, the mainspring of the strength of every race lies in its spirituality, and the death of that race begins the day that spirituality wanes and materialism gains ground._x000d_ Thus, apart from the solid facts and truths that we may learn from religion, apart from the comforts that we may gain from it, religion, as a science, as a study, is the greatest and healthiest exercise that the human mind can have. This pursuit of the Infinite, this struggle to grasp the Infinite, this effort to get beyond the limitations of the senses--out of matter, as it were--and to evolve the spiritual man--this striving day and night to make the Infinite one with our being--this struggle itself is the grandest and most glorious that man can make. Some persons find the greatest pleasure in eating. We have no right to say that they should not. Others find the greatest pleasure in possessing certain things. We have no right to say that they should not. But they also have no right to say "no" to the man who finds his highest pleasure in spiritual thought. The lower the organisation, the greater the pleasure in the senses. Very few men can eat a meal with the same gusto as a dog or a wolf. But all the pleasures of the dog or the wolf have gone, as it were into the senses. The lower types of humanity in all nations find pleasure in the senses, while the cultured and the educated find it in thought, in philosophy, in arts and sciences. Spirituality is a still higher plane. The subject being infinite, that plane is the highest, and the pleasure there is the highest for those who can appreciate it. So, even on the utilitarian ground that man is to seek for pleasure, he should cultivate religious thought, for it is the highest pleasure that exists. Thus religion, as a study, seems to me to be absolutely necessary._x000d_ We can see it in its effects. It is the greatest motive power that moves the human mind. No other ideal can put into us the same mass of energy as the spiritual. So far as human history goes, it is obvious to all of us that this has been the case and that its powers are not dead. I do not deny that men, on simply utilitarian grounds, can be very good and moral. There have been many great men in this world perfectly sound, moral, and good, simply on utilitarian grounds. But the world-movers, men who bring, as it were, a mass of magnetism into the world, whose spirit works in hundreds and in thousands, whose life ignites others with a spiritual fire--such men, we always find, have that spiritual background. Their motive power came from religion. Religion is the greatest motive power for realising that infinite energy which is the birthright and nature of every man. In building up character, in making for everything that is good and great, in bringing peace to others and peace to one's own self, religion is the highest motive power and, therefore, ought to be studied from that standpoint. Religion must be studied on a broader basis than formerly. All narrow, limited, fighting ideas of religion have to go. All sect ideas and tribal or national ideas of religion must be given up. That each tribe or nation should have its own particular God and think that every other is wrong is a superstition that should belong to the past. All such ideas must be abandoned._x000d_ As the human mind broadens, its spiritual steps broaden too. The time has already come when a man cannot record a thought without its reaching to all corners of the earth; by merely physical means, we have come into touch with the whole world; so the future religions of the world have to become as universal, as wide._x000d_ The religious ideals of the future must embrace all that exists in the world and is good and great, and, at the same time, have infinite scope for future development. All that was good in the past must be preserved; and the doors must be kept open for future additions to the already existing store. Religions must also be inclusive, and not look down with contempt upon one another, because their particular ideals of God are different. In my life I have seen a great many spiritual men, a great many sensible persons, who did not believe in God at all, that is to say, not in our sense of the word. Perhaps they understood God better than we can ever do. The Personal idea of God or the Impersonal, the Infinite, Moral Law, or the Ideal Man--these all have to come under the definition of religion. And when religions have become thus broadened, their power for good will have increased a hundredfold. Religions, having tremendous power in them, have often done more injury to the world than good, simply on account of their narrowness and limitations._x000d_ Even at the present time we find many sects and societies, with almost the same ideas, fighting each other, because one does not want to set forth those ideas in precisely the same way as another. Therefore, religions will have to broaden. Religious ideas will have to become universal, vast, and infinite; and then alone we shall have the fullest play of religion, for the power of religion has only just begun to manifest in the world. It is sometimes said that religions are dying out, that spiritual ideas are dying out of the world. To me it seems that they have just begun to grow. The power of religion, broadened and purified, is going to penetrate every part of human life. So long as religion was in the hands of a chosen few or of a body of priests, it was in temples, churches, books, dogmas, ceremonials, forms, and rituals. But when we come to the real, spiritual, universal concept, then, and then alone, religion will become real and living; it will come into our very nature, live in our every movement, penetrate every pore of our society, and be infinitely more a power for good than it has ever been before._x000d_ What is needed is a fellow-feeling between the different types of religion, seeing that they all stand or fall together, a fellow-feeling which springs from mutual esteem and mutual respect, and not the condescending, patronising, niggardly expression of goodwill, unfortunately in vogue at the present time with many. And above all, this is needed between types of religious expression coming from the study of mental phenomena--unfortunately, even now laying exclusive claim to the name of religion--and those expressions of religion whose heads, as it were, are penetrating more into the secrets of heaven though their feet are clinging to the earth, I mean, the so-called materialistic sciences._x000d_ To bring about this harmony, both will have to make concessions, sometimes very large, nay more, sometimes painful, but each will find itself the better for the sacrifice and more advanced in truth. And in the end, the knowledge which is confined within the domain of time and space will meet and become one with that which is beyond them both, where the mind and senses cannot reach--the Absolute, the Infinite, the One without a second.

On the afternoon of Sunday, June 7 the Swami opened a series of three Sunday lectures in the large lecture hall of the Royal Institute of Painters in water-colours, also known as Prince's Hall, at I 9 I Piccadilly. The subjects of this series were "The Necessity of Religion" (June 7), "A Universal Religion" June 14), and "The Real and the Apparent Man" (June 21). These three lectures, shorthand reports of which were taken down by Goodwin, proved a great success, and another course was at once arranged. The lectures of this second Sunday afternoon series were "Bhakti-Yoga" (June 28), "Renunciation" (July 5), and "Realization" (July 12).

Swamiji's regular classes at 63 St. George's Road in London, which would continue into the middle of July, did not constitute his only work of that season. Starting on June 7, he delivered a public lecture every Sunday afternoon at the Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours-the same building in which he had delivered his first lecture in London the previous year, though not the same hall. During the winter of 1895-96, Prince's Hall had been thoroughly transformed from a "dismal cave of the Muses" into a restaurant of lavish multistyle décor, which opened for business on May 16, 1986. Thus Swamiji's public lectures were now given in one of the three large art galleries on the upper floor, to which a handsome, ornately banistered staircase led from the building's main entrance on Piccadilly.

Although these Sunday lectures were not written up in the London papers, it was not the case, as Mahendra supposed, that, due to religious prejudice, the London Press deliberately ignored Swamiji. London, like New York, was a huge, tumultuous metropolis, full of daily surprises and explosive oratory. Swamiji's lectures were not (as far as the journalistic world was concerned) sensational events; nor did they constitute a threat to the Church of England, to be railed against. Yet in their reserved way the London papers did in fact take note of Swamiji's work, and they did so more than once, indicating a friendly and sympathetic attitude toward it.

The gentleman known as the Swami Vivekananda, who was one of the most striking figures at the Chicago Parliament of Religions, and who went there to expound the ancient teachings of India to the newest of Western nations, is at present in England, returning to his own land in September. The Swami is one of the greatest living exponents of the Vedantic philosophy; his calm manner, distinguished appearance, the ease with which he expounds a profound philosophy, his mastery of the English tongue, explain the great cordiality with which the Americans received him and the fact that they almost compelled him to remain a year or two among them. The Swami has taken the vow of complete renunciation of worldly position, property, and name. He cannot be said to belong to any religion, since his life is one of independent thought which draws from all religions. Those who desire that his teaching may be made known, arrange the entire business part of the work, and the lectures are, so far, made free. They may be heard at 63, St. George's road, on Tuesday and Thursday, at half past eleven a.m. and half past eight p.m. up to the end of July. It is also announced that the Swami will lecture in one of the rooms of the Royal Institute of Water Colours, 191, Piccadilly, at halfpast three p.m. on Sundays.

Be that as it may, Swamiji saw fit to lecture at Mrs. Biddulph Martin's home oh the afternoon of Wednesday, June 10. The London American of June 13 wrote of the occasion:

Those of us who were at home in the year of the Exhibition will doubtless remember the Parliament of Religions which assembled at the World's Fair. It was a bold idea, and one which could scarcely have been conceived of, let alone carried through, by any but Americans. The Indian representative at that great gathering was Swami Vivekananda, a Hindu with a marvellous grasp of his subject, and an equally marvellous power of expression. This interesting man is at present in London, and with her usual eagerness to learn and have others do the same, Mrs. Victoria Biddulph Martin, on Wednesday afternoon, asked him to deliver an address at her house in Hyde Park Gate on the Hindu Idea of [the] Soul. The weather on Wednesday was wretched, but this did not prevent a large number of ladies and gentlemen [from] accepting Mrs. Martin's hospitality. The address was, as its title would show of a most fascinating nature, the Hindu theology being most graphically and picturesquely explained. After the address, general conversation took place over the tea¬cups, and the Hindu was plied with questions by several ladies who seemed to have studied the subject to some purpose. This, perhaps, was as interesting as the address itself, as it showed wherein the main difference lies between the Christian and Brahmin beliefs. It is the usual thing at Mrs. Martin's receptions to meet Americans, and on Wednesday we noticed many well-known faces. There were also present some members of the Royal Household, but these were strictly incognito. Mrs. Martin's drawing room looked, as it always does, artistic from floor to ceiling. The room formed, indeed, a fitting stage for the Swami, who himself presented a picture with all the Eastern coloring in perfection. His dark olive face with its dignity of expression, his little yet powerful figure clothed in a long brown garment with a crimson girdle, and his raven-black hair, made him look what in truth he is-the Hindu Swami (the Master) ; the expounder of an Oriental creed.

On Saturday night Mrs. John Biddulph Martin gave a large reception at her beautiful house, 17, Hyde Park Gate, in commemoration of "Independence Day." Her guests had the advantage not only of the splendid reception rooms, but the extensive garden was turned into a fairy retreat, with its many-coloured glimmering electric lights, and its garlanded umbrellas spread under a cloudless sky. To the strains of Herr Gottlieb's Viennese Orchestra, hundreds of people wandered through the flower-decorated rooms into the delightful coolness of the garden, and it seemed impossible to believe that within a stone's-throw Kensington High Road was teeming with nocturnal traffic. Mrs. Biddulph Martin, in a greyish¬green silk gown, with touches of red and gold on bodice and skirt, received her many guests at the entrance to the drawing-room. Among the well-known people present were Lady Clark, in turquoise-blue silk, veiled with chiffon of the same shade, and displaying many fine diamonds; Lady Palliser, in black, with a white lace fichu; Colonel and Miss Knollys (the latter in bright red, with fillets of the same colour in her hair), Miss Constans (all in white), Mr. Hermann Vezin, Mr. Murray Carson, Mr. Mowbray Marris, and many others. Lord and Lady Teynham, and Lady Llangattock and the Hon. Miss Rolls were among other distinguished people who accepted invitations. Mrs. Biddulph Martin is to be much congratulated upon the success of her "Fourth of July" party, which had the advantage of a lovely new moon and a cloudless sky to make it quite perfect.

The Indian students resident in London naturally looked to the Swami for guidance. He endeared himself to them all by making them feel quite at home with him and helping them in various ways. And so when a social conference of Indians in Great Britain and Ireland was held on Saturday, July 18 under the auspices of the London Hindu Association, at Montague Mansion, Museum Street, W.C., it was the Swami who was asked to preside. The subject of the discourse was "The Hindus and Their Needs". During his talk, at which many English ladies and gentlemen were also present, the Swami appealed to the young Hindus to give up European dress and manners on their return to India and to mingle with the people in an effort to help them. He strongly denounced caste restrictions and spoke eloquently on the position of Hindu women.

"We did not quite understand your letters," Goodwin wrote to her on June 19._x000d_ _x000d_ but I think you have probably handed over the power of attorney to Mr. Leggett in order to avoid friction in New York, & Mr. Sturdy & I recognize your good motives in this, altho it seems a pity that you do not intend to retain possession, as no one is more fitted to do so than yourself. Of course if you really wish that Mr. Leggett shall replace you the Swami is perfectly satisfied that Mr. Leggett should take it from you, but, at the same time, he would strongly wish that you still retain the position._x000d_ We hope that nothing else has arisen, of which we are unaware, to cause you annoyance. OF course you understand that the Swami is in no way a business man; even if he were he is doing so great a work here that he has no time for the consideration of such matters, & Mr. Sturdy, is very pleased to relieve him of the necessity.

Great is the tenacity with which man clings to the senses. Yet, however substantial he may think the external world in which he lives and moves, there comes a time in the lives of individuals and of races when, involuntarily, they ask, "Is this real?" To the person who never finds a moment to question the credentials of his senses, whose every moment is occupied with some sort of sense-enjoyment--even to him death comes, and he also is compelled to ask, "Is this real?" Religion begins with this question and ends with its answer. Even in the remote past, where recorded history cannot help us, in the mysterious light of mythology, back in the dim twilight of civilisation, we find the same question was asked, "What becomes of this? What is real?"_x000d_ One of the most poetical of the Upanishads, the Katha Upanishad, begins with the inquiry: "When a man dies, there is a dispute. One party declares that he has gone for ever, the other insists that he is still living. Which is true?" Various answers have been given. The whole sphere of metaphysics, philosophy, and religion is really filled with various answers to this question. At the same time, attempts have been made to suppress it, to put a stop to the unrest of mind which asks, "What is beyond? What is real?" But so long as death remains, all these attempts at suppression will always prove to be unsuccessful. We may talk about seeing nothing beyond and keeping all our hopes and aspirations confined to the present moment, and struggle hard not to think of anything beyond the world of senses; and, perhaps, everything outside helps to keep us limited within its narrow bounds. The whole world may combine to prevent us from broadening out beyond the present. Yet, so long as there is death, the question must come again and again, "Is death the end of all these things to which we are clinging, as if they were the most real of all realities, the most substantial of all substances?" The world vanishes in a moment and is gone. Standing on the brink of a precipice beyond which is the infinite yawning chasm, every mind, however hardened, is bound to recoil and ask, "Is this real?" The hopes of a lifetime, built up little by little with all the energies of a great mind, vanish in a second. Are they real? This question must be answered. Time never lessens its power; on the other hand, it adds strength to it._x000d_ Then there is the desire to be happy. We run after everything to make ourselves happy; we pursue our mad career in the external world of senses. If you ask the young man with whom life is successful, he will declare that it is real; and he really thinks so. Perhaps, when the same man grows old and finds fortune ever eluding him, he will then declare that it is fate. He finds at last that his desires cannot be fulfilled. Wherever he goes, there is an adamantine wall beyond which he cannot pass. Every sense-activity results in a reaction. Everything is evanescent. Enjoyment, misery, luxury, wealth, power, and poverty, even life itself, are all evanescent._x000d_ Two positions remain to mankind. One is to believe with the nihilists that all is nothing, that we know nothing, that we can never know anything either about the future, the past, or even the present. For we must remember that he who denies the past and the future and wants to stick to the present is simply a madman. One may as well deny the father and mother and assert the child. It would be equally logical. To deny the past and future, the present must inevitably be denied also. This is one position, that of the nihilists. I have never seen a man who could really become a nihilist for one minute. It is very easy to talk._x000d_ Then there is the other position--to seek for an explanation, to seek for the real, to discover in the midst of this eternally changing and evanescent world whatever is real. In this body which is an aggregate of molecules of matter, is there anything which is real? This has been the search throughout the history of the human mind. In the very oldest times, we often find glimpses of light coming into men's minds. We find man, even then, going a step beyond this body, finding something which is not this external body, although very much like it, much more complete, much more perfect, and which remains even when this body is dissolved. We read in the hymns of the Rig-Veda, addressed to the God of Fire who is burning a dead body, "Carry him, O Fire, in your arms gently, give him a perfect body, a bright body, carry him where the fathers live, where there is no more sorrow, where there is no more death." The same idea you will find present in every religion. And we get another idea with it. It is a significant fact that all religions, without one exception, hold that man is a degeneration of what he was, whether they clothe this in mythological words, or in the clear language of philosophy, or in the beautiful expressions of poetry. This is the one fact that comes out of every scripture and of every mythology that the man that is, is a degeneration of what he was. This is the kernel of truth within the story of Adam's fall in the Jewish scripture. This is again and again repeated in the scriptures of the Hindus; the dream of a period which they call the Age of Truth, when no man died unless he wished to die, when he could keep his body as long as he liked, and his mind was pure and strong. There was no evil and no misery; and the present age is a corruption of that state of perfection. Side by side with this, we find the story of the deluge everywhere. That story itself is a proof that this present age is held to be a corruption of a former age by every religion. It went on becoming more and more corrupt until the deluge swept away a large portion of mankind, and again the ascending series began. It is going up slowly again to reach once more the early state of purity. You are all aware of the story of the deluge in the Old Testament. The same story was current among the ancient Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Chinese, and the Hindus. Manu, a great ancient sage, was praying on the bank of the Ganga, when a little minnow came to him for protection, and he put it into a pot of water he had before him. "What do you want?" asked Manu. The little minnow declared he was pursued by a bigger fish and wanted protection. Manu carried the little fish to his home, and in the morning he had become as big as the pot and said, "I cannot live in this pot any longer". Manu put him in a tank, and the next day he was as big as the tank and declared he could not live there any more. So Manu had to take him to a river, and in the morning the fish filled the river. Then Manu put him in the ocean, and he declared, "Manu, I am the Creator of the universe. I have taken this form to come and warn you that I will deluge the world. You build an ark and in it put a pair of every kind of animal, and let your family enter the ark, and there will project out of the water my horn. Fasten the ark to it; and when the deluge subsides, come out and people the earth." So the world was deluged, and Manu saved his own family and two of every kind of animal and seeds of every plant. When the deluge subsided, he came and peopled the world; and we are called "man", because we are the progeny of Manu._x000d_ Now, human language is the attempt to express the truth that is within. I am fully persuaded that a baby whose language consists of unintelligible sounds is attempting to express the highest philosophy, only the baby has not the organs to express it nor the means. The difference between the language of the highest philosophers and the utterances of babies is one of degree and not of kind. What you call the most correct, systematic, mathematical language of the present time, and the hazy, mystical, mythological languages of the ancients, differ only in degree. All of them have a grand idea behind, which is, as it were, struggling to express itself; and often behind these ancient mythologies are nuggets of truth; and often, I am sorry to say, behind the fine, polished phrases of the moderns is arrant trash. So, we need not throw a thing overboard because it is clothed in mythology, because it does not fit in with the notions of Mr. So-and-so and Mrs. So-and-so of modern times. If people should laugh at religion because most religions declare that men must believe in mythologies taught by such and such a prophet, they ought to laugh more at these moderns. In modern times, if a man quotes a Moses or a Buddha or a Christ, he is laughed at; but let him give the name of a Huxley, a Tyndall, or a Darwin, and it is swallowed without salt. "Huxley has said it", that is enough for many. We are free from superstitions indeed! That was a religious superstition, and this is a scientific superstition; only, in and through that superstition came life-giving ideas of spirituality; in and through this modern superstition come lust and greed. That superstition was worship of God, and this superstition is worship of filthy lucre, of fame and power. That is the difference._x000d_ To return to mythology. Behind all these stories we find one idea standing supreme--that man is a degeneration of what he was. Coming to the present times, modern research seems to repudiate this position absolutely. Evolutionists seem to contradict entirely this assertion. According to them, man is the evolution of the mollusc; and, therefore, what mythology states cannot be true. There is in India, however, a mythology which is able to reconcile both these positions. The Indian mythology has a theory of cycles, that all progression is in the form of waves. Every wave is attended by a fall, and that by a rise the next moment, that by a fall in the next, and again another rise. The motion is in cycles. Certainly it is true, even on the grounds of modern research, that man cannot be simply an evolution. Every evolution presupposes an involution. The modern scientific man will tell you that you can only get the amount of energy out of a machine which you have previously put into it. Something cannot be produced out of nothing. If a man is an evolution of the mollusc, then the perfect man--the Buddha-man, the Christ-man--was evolved in the mollusc. If it is not so, whence come these gigantic personalities? Something cannot come out of nothing. Thus we are in the position of reconciling the scriptures with modern light. That energy which manifests itself slowly through various stages until it becomes the perfect man, cannot come out of nothing. It existed somewhere; and if the mollusc or the protoplasm is the first point to which you can trace it, that protoplasm, somehow or other, must have contained the energy._x000d_ There is a great discussion going on as to whether the aggregate of materials we call the body is the cause of manifestation of the force we call the soul, thought, etc., or whether it is the thought that manifests this body. The religions of the world of course hold that the force called thought manifests the body, and not the reverse. There are schools of modern thought which hold that what we call thought is simply the outcome of the adjustment of the parts of the machine which we call body. Taking the second position that the soul or the mass of thought, or however you may call it, is the outcome of this machine, the outcome of the chemical and physical combinations of matter making up the body and brain, leaves the question unanswered. What makes the body? What force combines the molecules into the body form? What force is there which takes up material from the mass of matter around and forms my body one way, another body another way, and so on? What makes these infinite distinctions? To say that the force called soul is the outcome of the combinations of the molecules of the body is putting the cart before the horse. How did the combinations come; where was the force to make them? If you say that some other force was the cause of these combinations, and soul was the outcome of that matter, and that soul--which combined a certain mass of matter--was itself the result of the combinations, it is no answer. That theory ought to be taken which explains most of the facts, if not all, and that without contradicting other existing theories. It is more logical to say that the force which takes up the matter and forms the body is the same which manifests through that body. To say, therefore, that the thought forces manifested by the body are the outcome of the arrangement of molecules and have no independent existence has no meaning; neither can force evolve out of matter. Rather it is impossible to demonstrate that what we call matter does not exist at all. It is only a certain state of force. Solidity, hardness, or any other state of matter can be proved to be the result of motion. Increase of vortex motion imparted to fluids gives them the force of solids. A mass of air in vortex motion, as in a tornado, becomes solid-like and by its impact breaks or cuts through solids. A thread of a spider's web, if it could be moved at almost infinite velocity, would be as strong as an iron chain and would cut through an oak tree. Looking at it in this way, it would be easier to prove that what we call matter does not exist. But the other way cannot be proved._x000d_ What is the force which manifests itself through the body? It is obvious to all of us, whatever that force be, that it is taking particles up, as it were, and manipulating forms out of them--the human body. None else comes here to manipulate bodies for you and me. I never saw anybody eat food for me. I have to assimilate it, manufacture blood and bones and everything out of that food. What is this mysterious force? Ideas about the future and about the past seem to be terrifying to many. To many they seem to be mere speculation._x000d_ We will take the present theme. What is this force which is now working through us? We know how in old times, in all the ancient scriptures, this power, this manifestation of power, was thought to be a bright substance having the form of this body, and which remained even after this body fell. Later on, however, we find a higher idea coming--that this bright body did not represent the force. Whatsoever has form must be the result of combinations of particles and requires something else behind it to move it. If this body requires something which is not the body to manipulate it, the bright body, by the same necessity, will also require something other than itself to manipulate it. So, that something was called the soul, the Atman in Sanskrit. It was the Atman which through the bright body, as it were, worked on the gross body outside. The bright body is considered as the receptacle of the mind, and the Atman is beyond that. It is not the mind even; it works the mind, and through the mind the body. You have an Atman, I have another, each one of us has a separate Atman and a separate fine body, and through that we work on the gross external body. Questions were then asked about this Atman, about its nature. What is this Atman, this soul of man, which is neither the body nor the mind? Great discussions followed. Speculations were made, various shades of philosophic inquiry came into existence; and I shall try to place before you some of the conclusions that have been reached about this Atman._x000d_ The different philosophies seem to agree that this Atman, whatever it be, has neither form nor shape, and that which has neither form nor shape must be omnipresent. Time begins with mind, space also is in the mind. Causation cannot stand without time. Without the idea of succession there cannot be any idea of causation. Time, space and causation, therefore, are in the mind, and as this Atman is beyond the mind and formless, it must be beyond time, beyond space, and beyond causation. Now, if it is beyond time, space, and causation, it must be infinite. Then comes the highest speculation in our philosophy. The infinite cannot be two. If the soul be infinite, there can be only one Soul, and all ideas of various souls--you having one soul, and I having another and so forth--are not real. The Real Man, therefore, is one and infinite, the omnipresent Spirit. And the apparent man is only a limitation of that Real Man. In that sense the mythologies are true that the apparent man, however great he may be, is only a dim reflection of the Real Man who is beyond. The Real Man, the Spirit, being beyond cause and effect, not bound by time and space, must, therefore, be free. He was never bound, and could not be bound. The apparent man, the reflection, is limited by time, space, and causation, and is, therefore, bound. Or in the language of some of our philosophers, he appears to be bound, but really is not. This is the reality in our souls, this omnipresence, this spiritual nature, this infinity. Every soul is infinite, therefore there is no question of birth and death. Some children were being examined. The examiner put them rather hard questions, and among them was this one: "Why does not the earth fall?" He wanted to evoke answers about gravitation. Most of the children could not answer at all; a few answered that it was gravitation or something. One bright little girl answered it by putting another question: "Where should it fall?" The question is nonsense. Where should the earth fall? There is no falling or rising for the earth. In infinite space there is no up or down; that is only in the relative. Where is the going or coming for the infinite? Whence should it come and whither should it go?_x000d_ Thus, when people cease to think of the past or future, when they give up the idea of body, because the body comes and goes and is limited, then they have risen to a higher ideal. The body is not the Real Man, neither is the mind, for the mind waxes and wanes. It is the Spirit beyond, which alone can live for ever. The body and mind are continually changing, and are, in fact, only names of series of changeful phenomena, like rivers whose waters are in a constant state of flux, yet presenting the appearance of unbroken streams. Every particle in this body is continually changing; no one has the same body for many minutes together, and yet we think of it as the same body. So with the mind; one moment it is happy, another moment unhappy; one moment strong, another weak; an ever-changing whirlpool. That cannot be the Spirit which is infinite. Change can only be in the limited. To say that the infinite changes in any way is absurd; it cannot be. You can move and I can move, as limited bodies; every particle in this universe is in a constant state of flux, but taking the universe as a unit, as one whole, it cannot move, it cannot change. Motion is always a relative thing. I move in relation to something else. Any particle in this universe can change in relation to any other particle; but take the whole universe as one, and in relation to what can it move? There is nothing besides it. So this infinite Unit is unchangeable, immovable, absolute, and this is the Real Man. Our reality, therefore, consists in the Universal and not in the limited. These are old delusions, however comfortable they are, to think that we are little limited beings, constantly changing. People are frightened when they are told that they are Universal Being, everywhere present. Through everything you work, through every foot you move, through every lip you talk, through every heart you feel._x000d_ People are frightened when they are told this. They will again and again ask you if they are not going to keep their individuality. What is individuality? I should like to see it. A baby has no moustache; when he grows to be a man, perhaps he has a moustache and beard. His individuality would be lost, if it were in the body. If I lose one eye, or if I lose one of my hands, my individuality would be lost if it were in the body. Then, a drunkard should not give up drinking because he would lose his individuality. A thief should not be a good man because he would thereby lose his individuality. No man ought to change his habits for fear of this. There is no individuality except in the Infinite. That is the only condition which does not change. Everything else is in a constant state of flux. Neither can individuality be in memory. Suppose, on account of a blow on the head I forget all about my past; then, I have lost all individuality; I am gone. I do not remember two or three years of my childhood, and if memory and existence are one, then whatever I forget is gone. That part of my life which I do not remember, I did not live. That is a very narrow idea of individuality._x000d_ We are not individuals yet. We are struggling towards individuality, and that is the Infinite, that is the real nature of man. He alone lives whose life is in the whole universe, and the more we concentrate our lives on limited things, the faster we go towards death. Those moments alone we live when our lives are in the universe, in others; and living this little life is death, simply death, and that is why the fear of death comes. The fear of death can only be conquered when man realises that so long as there is one life in this universe, he is living. When he can say, "I am in everything, in everybody, I am in all lives, I am the universe," then alone comes the state of fearlessness. To talk of immortality in constantly changing things is absurd. Says an old Sanskrit philosopher: It is only the Spirit that is the individual, because it is infinite. No infinity can be divided; infinity cannot be broken into pieces. It is the same one, undivided unit for ever, and this is the individual man, the Real Man. The apparent man is merely a struggle to express, to manifest this individuality which is beyond; and evolution is not in the Spirit. These changes which are going on--the wicked becoming good, the animal becoming man, take them in whatever way you like--are not in the Spirit. They are the evolution of nature and manifestation of Spirit. Suppose there is a screen hiding you from me, in which there is a small hole through which I can see some of the faces before me, just a few faces. Now suppose the hole begins to grow larger and larger, and as it does so, more and more of the scene before me reveals itself and when at last the whole screen has disappeared, I stand face to face with you all. You did not change at all in this case; it was the hole that was evolving, and you were gradually manifesting yourselves. So it is with the Spirit. No perfection is going to be attained. You are already free and perfect. What are these ideas of religion and God and searching for the hereafter? Why does man look for a God? Why does man, in every nation, in every state of society, want a perfect ideal somewhere, either in man, in God, or elsewhere? Because that idea is within you. It was your own heart beating and you did not know; you were mistaking it for something external. It is the God within your own self that is propelling you to seek for Him, to realise Him. After long searches here and there, in temples and in churches, in earths and in heavens, at last you come back, completing the circle from where you started, to your own soul and find that He for whom you have been seeking all over the world, for whom you have been weeping and praying in churches and temples, on whom you were looking as the mystery of all mysteries shrouded in the clouds, is nearest of the near, is your own Self, the reality of your life, body, and soul. That is your own nature. Assert it, manifest it. Not to become pure, you are pure already. You are not to be perfect, you are that already. Nature is like that screen which is hiding the reality beyond. Every good thought that you think or act upon is simply tearing the veil, as it were; and the purity, the Infinity, the God behind, manifests Itself more and more._x000d_ This is the whole history of man. Finer and finer becomes the veil, more and more of the light behind shines forth, for it is its nature to shine. It cannot be known; in vain we try to know it. Were it knowable, it would not be what it is, for it is the eternal subject. Knowledge is a limitation, knowledge is objectifying. He is the eternal subject of everything, the eternal witness in this universe, your own Self. Knowledge is, as it were, a lower step, a degeneration. We are that eternal subject already; how can we know it? It is the real nature of every man, and he is struggling to express it in various ways; otherwise, why are there so many ethical codes? Where is the explanation of all ethics? One idea stands out as the centre of all ethical systems, expressed in various forms, namely, doing good to others. The guiding motive of mankind should be charity towards men, charity towards all animals. But these are all various expressions of that eternal truth that, "I am the universe; this universe is one." Or else, where is the reason? Why should I do good to my fellowmen? Why should I do good to others? What compels me? It is sympathy, the feeling of sameness everywhere. The hardest hearts feel sympathy for beings sometimes. Even the man who gets frightened if he is told that this assumed individuality is really a delusion, that it is ignoble to try to cling to this apparent individuality, that very man will tell you that extreme self-abnegation is the centre of all morality. And what is perfect self-abnegation? It means the abnegation of this apparent self, the abnegation of all selfishness. This idea of "me and mine"--Ahamkâra and Mamatâ--is the result of past superstition, and the more this present self passes away, the more the real Self becomes manifest. This is true self-abnegation, the centre, the basis, the gist of all moral teaching; and whether man knows it or not, the whole world is slowly going towards it, practising it more or less. Only, the vast majority of mankind are doing it unconsciously. Let them do it consciously. Let them make the sacrifice, knowing that this "me and mine" is not the real Self, but only a limitation. But one glimpse of that infinite reality which is behind--but one spark of that infinite fire that is the All--represents the present man; the Infinite is his true nature. _x000d_ What is the utility, the effect, the result, of this knowledge? In these days, we have to measure everything by utility--by how many pounds, shillings, and pence it represents. What right has a person to ask that truth should be judged by the standard of utility or money? Suppose there is no utility, will it be less true? Utility is not the test of truth. Nevertheless, there is the highest utility in this. Happiness, we see, is what everyone is seeking for, but the majority seek it in things which are evanescent and not real. No happiness was ever found in the senses. There never was a person who found happiness in the senses or in the enjoyment of the senses. Happiness is only found in the Spirit. Therefore the highest utility for mankind is to find this happiness in the Spirit. The next point is that ignorance is the great mother of all misery, and the fundamental ignorance is to think that the Infinite weeps and cries, that He is finite. This is the basis of all ignorance that we, the immortal, the ever pure, the perfect Spirit, think that we are little minds, that we are little bodies; it is the mother of all selfishness. As soon as I think that I am a little body, I want to preserve it, to protect it, to keep it nice, at the expense of other bodies; then you and I become separate. As soon as this idea of separation comes, it opens the door to all mischief and leads to all misery. This is the utility that if a very small fractional part of human beings living today can put aside the idea of selfishness, narrowness, and littleness, this earth will become a paradise tomorrow; but with machines and improvements of material knowledge only, it will never be. These only increase misery, as oil poured on fire increase the flame all the more. Without the knowledge of the Spirit, all material knowledge is only adding fuel to fire, only giving into the hands of selfish man one more instrument to take what belongs to others, to live upon the life of others, instead of giving up his life for them._x000d_ Is it practical?--is another question. Can it be practised in modern society? Truth does not pay homage to any society, ancient or modern. Society has to pay homage to Truth or die. Societies should be moulded upon truth, and truth has not to adjust itself to society. If such a noble truth as unselfishness cannot be practised in society, it is better for man to give up society and go into the forest. That is the daring man. There are two sorts of courage. One is the courage of facing the cannon. And the other is the courage of spiritual conviction. An Emperor who invaded India was told by his teacher to go and see some of the sages there. After a long search for one, he found a very old man sitting on a block of stone. The Emperor talked with him a little and became very impressed by his wisdom. He asked the sage to go to his country with him. "No," said the sage, "I am quite satisfied with my forest here." Said the Emperor, "I will give you money, position, wealth. I am the Emperor of the world." "No," replied the man. "I don't care for those things." The Emperor replied, "If you do not go, I will kill you." The man smiled serenely and said, "That is the most foolish thing you have ever said, Emperor. You cannot kill me. Me the sun cannot dry, fire cannot burn, sword cannot kill, for I am the birthless, the deathless, the ever-living omnipotent, omnipresent Spirit." This is spiritual boldness, while the other is the courage of a lion or a tiger. In the Mutiny of 1857 there was a Swami, a very great soul, whom a Mohammedan mutineer stabbed severely. The Hindu mutineers caught and brought the man to the Swami, offering to kill him. But the Swami looked up calmly and said, "My brother, thou art He, thou art He!" and expired. This is another instance. What good is it to talk of the strength of your muscles, of the superiority of your Western institutions, if you cannot make Truth square with your society, if you cannot build up a society into which the highest Truth will fit? What is the good of this boastful talk about your grandeur and greatness, if you stand up and say, "This courage is not practical." Is nothing practical but pounds, shillings, and pence? If so, why boast of your society? That society is the greatest, where the highest truths become practical. That is my opinion; and if society is not fit for the highest truths, make it so; and the sooner, the better. Stand up, men and women, in this spirit, dare to believe in the Truth, dare to practise the Truth! The world requires a few hundred bold men and women. Practise that boldness which dares know the Truth, which dares show the Truth in life, which does not quake before death, nay, welcomes death, makes a man know that he is the Spirit, that, in the whole universe, nothing can kill him. Then you will be free. Then you will know your real Soul. "This Atman is first to be heard, then thought about and then meditated upon." _x000d_ There is a great tendency in modern times to talk too much of work and decry thought. Doing is very good, but that comes from thinking. Little manifestations of energy through the muscles are called work. But where there is no thought, there will be no work. Fill the brain, therefore, with high thoughts, highest ideals, place them day and night before you, and out of that will come great work. Talk not about impurity, but say that we are pure. We have hypnotised ourselves into this thought that we are little, that we are born, and that we are going to die, and into a constant state of fear._x000d_ There is a story about a lioness, who was big with young, going about in search of prey; and seeing a flock of sheep, she jumped upon them. She died in the effort; and a little baby lion was born, motherless. It was taken care of by the sheep and the sheep brought it up, and it grew up with them, ate grass, and bleated like the sheep. And although in time it became a big, full-grown lion, it thought it was a sheep. One day another lion came in search of prey and was astonished to find that in the midst of this flock of sheep was a lion, fleeing like the sheep at the approach of danger. He tried to get near the sheep-lion, to tell it that it was not a sheep but a lion; but the poor animal fled at his approach. However, he watched his opportunity and one day found the sheep-lion sleeping. He approached it and said, "You are a lion." "I am a sheep," cried the other lion and could not believe the contrary but bleated. The lion dragged hi

Indeed the interest in Swamiji was so friendly that the London Sunday Times of June 21, 1896, published a long interview with him, entitled "A Missionary to England," in which he described his mission and was himself described as "a picturesque figure in his Eastern dress . . . Simple and cordial in manner, savouring of anything but the popular idea of asceticism." This interview has been reprinted in volume five of the Complete Works, under the title "India's Mission" (see note * to page 236, chapter twelve), and thus need not be given here, but it must have aroused interest in the London of its day and could not have excited anything but a favorable attitude toward the Hindu "missionary."

63 St. George's Road, London S.W._x000d_ 24th June, 1896_x000d_ {original in Bengali}_x000d_ Dear Shashi,_x000d_ Max Muller wants all the sayings of Shri Ramakrishna classified, that is, all on Karma in one place, on Vairagya in another place, so on Bhakti, Jnana, etc., etc. You must undertake to do this forthwith. . . . We must take care to present only the universal aspect of his teachings. . . ._x000d_ Sharat starts for America tomorrow. The work here is coming to a head. We have already got funds to start a London Centre. Next month I go to Switzerland to pass a month or two there, then I shall return to London. What will be the good of my going home?--This London is the hub of the world. The heart of India is here. How can I leave without laying a sure foundation here? Nonsense! For the present, I shall have Kali here, tell him to be ready. . . ._x000d_ We want great spirit, tremendous energy, and boundless enthusiasm, no womanishness will do. Try to go on exactly as I wrote to you in my last. We want organisation. Organisation is power, and the secret of this is obedience._x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

As the success of the London work took clearer shape, the Swami felt that a sannyasi was needed to stay in London permanently. At the same time, however, the work in America could not be neglected; it, too, required the guidance and inspiration of a resident sannyasi. Perhaps this is why the Swami decided to send Swami Saradananda to America at the end of June and to request Swami Abhedananda to come from India for the work in London. On June 24 he wrote to Swami Ramakrishnananda: "Sharat [Swami Saradananda] starts for America tomorrow. The work here is coming to a head. We have already got funds to start a London centre. Next month I go to Switzerland to pass a month or two there, then I shall return to London. What will be the good of my going home? This London is the hub of the world. The heart of India is here. How can I leave without laying a sure foundation here? Nonsense! For the present I shall have Kali [Swami Abhedananda] here, tell him to be ready. Let him start as soon as he receives my letter. Organization is strength, and obedience is its hidden secret."

One might also say that J. J. Goodwin was an English disciple of the Swami's, for although his initiation and early training had taken place in New York, he was a native of England, and his loyal service wag as invaluable to the Swami in London as it had been in America. Goodwin was of service also to the Swami's brother-disciple. Sailing from England on June' 25 he accompanied Swami Saradananda to the United States, where, at the repeated requests of the American students, Swami Vivekananda had sent him. Goodwin introduced Swami Saradananda to the Vedanta students in New York and Boston and helped him to find his way about the bustling cities of the New World. As for the preaching work that Swami Saradananda was to undertake on the East Coast, he was well prepared, having learned the art of presenting Vedanta to Western audiences through the example and instruction of his great brother-disciple.

July marked the end of the lecture season in London, and the Swami's classes Were drawing to a close. As though to insure that he would be with them the following season, the members of the class readily subscribed to a fund for his autumn lectures. As we have seen earlier, the Swami had written on June 24 to Swami Ramakrishnananda, "The work here is coming to a head. We have already got funds to start a London Centre." Now, on July 8, he wrote to Mrs. Bull: "The English people are very generous. In three minute’s time the other evening, my class raised £150 for the new quarters for next autumn's work. They would have given £500 on the spot if wanted, but we want to go slow, and not rush into undue expense."

Prana_x000d_ The theory of creation is that matter is subject to five conditions: ether, luminous ether, gaseous, liquid, and solid. They are all evoked out of one primal element, which is very finest ether._x000d_ The name of the energy in the universe is Prana, which is the force residing in these elements. Mind is the great instrument for using the Prana. Mind is material. Behind the mind is Atman which takes hold of the Prana. Prana is the driving power of the world, and can be seen in every manifestation of life. The body is mortal and the mind is mortal; both, being compounds, must die. Behind all is the Atman which never dies. The Atman is pure intelligence controlling and directing Prana. But the intelligence we see around us is always imperfect. When intelligence is perfect, we get the Incarnation--the Christ. Intelligence is always trying to manifest itself, and in order to do this it is creating minds and bodies of different degrees of development. In reality, and at the back of all things, every being is equal._x000d_ Mind is very fine matter; it is the instrument for manifesting Prana. Force requires matter for manifestation. _x000d_ The next point is how to use this Prana. We all use it, but how sadly we waste it! The first doctrine in the preparatory stage is that all knowledge is the outcome of experience. Whatever is beyond the five senses must also be experienced in order to become true to us._x000d_ Our mind is acting on three planes: the subconscious, conscious, and superconscious. Of men, the Yogi alone is superconscious. The whole theory of Yoga is to go beyond the mind. These three planes can be understood by considering the vibrations of light or sound. There are certain vibrations of light too slow to become visible; then as they get faster, we see them as light; and then they get too fast for us to see them at all. The same with sound._x000d_ How to transcend the senses without disturbing the health is what we want to learn. The Western mind has stumbled into acquiring some of the psychic gifts which in them are abnormal and are frequently the sign of disease. The Hindu has studied and made perfect this subject of science, which all may now study without fear or danger._x000d_ Mental healing is a fine proof of the superconscious state; for the thought which heals is a sort of vibration in the Prana, and it does not go as a thought but as something higher for which we have no name._x000d_ Each thought has three states. First, the rising or beginning, of which we are unconscious; second, when the thought rises to the surface; and third, when it goes from us. Thought is like a bubble rising to the surface. When thought is joined to will, we call it power. That which strikes the sick person whom you are trying to help is not thought, but power. The self-man running through it all is called in Sanskrit Sutratma, the "Thread-self"._x000d_ The last and highest manifestation of Prana is love. The moment you have succeeded in manufacturing love out of Prana, you are free. It is the hardest and the greatest thing to gain. You must not criticise others; you must criticise yourself. If you see a drunkard, do not criticise him; remember he is you in another shape. He who has not darkness sees no darkness in others. What you have inside you is that you see in others. This is the surest way of reform. If the would-be reformers who criticise and see evil would themselves stop creating evil, the world would be better. Beat this idea into yourself._x000d_ The Practice of Yoga_x000d_ _x000d_ The body must be properly taken care of. The people who torture their flesh are demoniacal. Always keep your mind joyful; if melancholy thoughts come, kick them out. A Yogi must not eat too much, but he also must not fast; he must not sleep too much, but he must not go without any sleep. In all things only the man who holds the golden mean can become a Yogi._x000d_ What is the best time for practice in Yoga? The junction time of dawn and twilight, when all nature becomes calm. Take help of nature. Take the easiest posture in sitting. Have the three parts straight--the ribs, the shoulders, and the head--leaving the spine free and straight, no leaning backwards or forwards. Then mentally hold the body as perfect, part by part. Then send a current of love to all the world; then pray for enlightenment. And lastly, join your mind to your breath and gradually attain the power of concentrating your attention on its movements. The reason for this will be apparent by degrees._x000d_ _x000d_ The Ojas_x000d_ _x000d_ The "Ojas" is that which makes the difference between man and man. The man who has much Ojas is the leader of men. It gives a tremendous power of attraction. Ojas is manufactured from the nerve-currents. It has this peculiarity: it is most easily made from that force which manifests itself in the sexual powers. If the powers of the sexual centres are not frittered away and their energies wasted (action is only thought in a grosser state), they can be manufactured into Ojas. The two great nerve currents of the body start from the brain, go down on each side of the spinal cord, but they cross in the shape of the figure 8 at the back of the head. Thus the left side of the body is governed by the right side of the head. At the lowest point of the circuit is the sexual centre, the Sacral Plexus. The energy conveyed by these two currents of nerves comes down, and a large amount is continually being stored in the Sacral Plexus. The last bone in the spine is over the Sacral Plexus and is described in symbolic language as a triangle; and as the energy is stored up beside it, this energy is symbolised by a serpent. Consciousness and subconsciousness work through these two nerve-currents. But superconsciousness takes off the nerve-current when it reaches the lower end of the circuit, and instead of allowing it to go up and complete the circuit, stops and forces it up the spinal cord as Ojas from the Sacral Plexus. The spinal cord is naturally closed, but it can be opened to form a passage for this Ojas. As the current travels from one centre of the spinal cord to another, you can travel from one plane of existence to another. This is why the human being is greater than others, because all planes, all experiences, are possible to the spirit in the human body. We do not need another; for man can, if he likes, finish in his body his probation and can after that become pure spirit. When the Ojas has gone from centre to centre and reaches the Pineal Gland (a part of the brain to which science can assign no function), man then becomes neither mind nor body, he is free from all bondage._x000d_ The great danger of psychic powers is that man stumbles, as it were, into them, and knows not how to use them rightly. He is without training and without knowledge of what has happened to him. The danger is that in using these psychic powers, the sexual feelings are abnormally roused as these powers are in fact manufactured out of the sexual centre. The best and safest way is to avoid psychic manifestations, for they play the most horrible pranks on their ignorant and untrained owners._x000d_ To go back to symbols. Because this movement of the Ojas up the spinal cord feels like a spiral one, it is called the "snake". The snake, therefore, or the serpent, rests on the bone or triangle. When it is roused, it travels up the spinal cord; and as it goes from centre to centre, a new natural world is opened inside us--the Kundalini is roused._x000d_ _x000d_ PRANAYAMA_x000d_ _x000d_ The practice of Pranayama is the training of the superconscious mind. The physical practice is divided into three parts and deals entirely with the breath. It consists of drawing in, holding, and throwing out the breath. The breath must be drawn in by one nostril whilst you count four, then held whilst you count sixteen, and thrown away by the other nostril whilst you count eight. Then reverse the process closing the other nostril while you breathe in. You will have to begin by holding one nostril with your thumb; but in time your breathing will obey your mind. Make four of these Pranayamas morning and evening._x000d_ _x000d_ METAGNOSTICISM_x000d_ _x000d_ "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." The word "repent" is in Greek "metanoeite" ("meta" means behind, after, beyond) and means literally "go beyond knowledge"--the knowledge of the (five) senses--"and look within where you will find the kingdom of heaven"._x000d_ Sir William Hamilton says at the end of a philosophical work, "Here philosophy ends, here religion begins". Religion is not, and never can be, in the field of intellect. Intellectual reasoning is based on facts evident to the senses. Now religion has nothing to do with the senses. The agnostics say they cannot know God, and rightly, for they have exhausted the limits of their senses and yet get no further in knowledge of God. Therefore in order to prove religion--that is, the existence of God, immortality, etc.--we have to go beyond the knowledge of the senses. All great prophets and seers claim to have "seen God", that is to say, they have had direct experience. There is no knowledge without experience, and man has to see God in his own soul. When man has come face to face with the one great fact in the universe, then alone will doubts vanish and crooked things become straight. This is "seeing God". Our business is to verify, not to swallow. Religion, like other sciences, requires you to gather facts, to see for yourself, and this is possible when you go beyond the knowledge which lies in the region of the five senses. Religious truths need verification by everyone. To see God is the one goal. Power is not the goal. Pure Existence-Knowledge-and-Love is the goal; and Love is God._x000d_ _x000d_ THOUGHT, IMAGINATION, AND MEDITATION_x000d_ _x000d_ The same faculty that we employ in dreams and thoughts, namely, imagination, will also be the means by which we arrive at Truth. When the imagination is very powerful, the object becomes visualised. Therefore by it we can bring our bodies to any state of health or disease. When we see a thing, the particles of the brain fall into a certain position like the mosaics of a kaleidoscope. Memory consists in getting back this combination and the same setting of the particles of the brain. The stronger the will, the greater will be the success in resetting these particles of the brain. There is only one power to cure the body, and that is in every man. Medicine only rouses this power. Disease is only the manifest struggle of that power to throw off the poison which has entered the body. Although the power to overthrow poison may be roused by medicine, it may be more permanently roused by the force of thought. Imagination must hold to the thought of health and strength in order that in case of illness the memory of the ideal of health may be roused and the articles re-arranged in the position into which they fell when healthy. The tendency of the body is then to follow the brain._x000d_ The next step is when this process can be arrived at by another's mind working on us. Instances of this may be seen every day. Words are only a mode of mind acting on mind. Good and evil thoughts are each a potent power, and they fill the universe. As vibration continues, so thought remains in the form of thought until translated into action. For example, force is latent in the man's arm until he strikes a blow, when he translates it into activity. We are the heirs of good and evil thought. If we make ourselves pure and the instruments of good thoughts, these will enter us. The good soul will not be receptive to evil thoughts. Evil thoughts find the best field in evil people; they are like microbes which germinate and increase only when they find a suitable soil. Mere thoughts are like little wavelets; fresh impulses to vibration come to them simultaneously, until at last one great wave seems to stand up and swallow up the rest. These universal thoughtwaves seem to recur every five hundred years, when invariably the great wave typifies and swallows up the others. It is this which constitutes a prophet. He focuses in his own mind the thought of the age in which he is living and gives it back to mankind in concrete form. Krishna, Buddha, Christ, Mohammed, and Luther may be instanced as the great waves that stood up above their fellows (with a probable lapse of five hundred years between them). Always the wave that is backed by the greatest purity and the noblest character is what breaks upon the world as movement of social reform. Once again in our day there is a vibration of the waves of thought and the central idea is that of the Immanent God, and this is everywhere cropping up in every form and every sect. In these waves, construction alternates with destruction; yet the construction always makes an end of the work of destruction. Now, as a man dives deeper to reach his spiritual nature, he feels no longer bound by superstition. The majority of sects will be transient, and last only as bubbles because the leaders are not usually men of character. Perfect love, the heart never reacting, this is what builds character. There is no allegiance possible where there is no character in the leader, and perfect purity ensures the most lasting allegiance and confidence._x000d_ Take up an idea, devote yourself to it, struggle on in patience, and the sun will rise for you._x000d_ _x000d_ To return to imagination:_x000d_ We have to visualise the Kundalini. The symbol is the serpent coiled on the triangular bone._x000d_ Then practice the breathing as described before, and, while holding the breath, imagine that breath like the current which flows down the figure 8; when it reaches the lowest point, imagine that it strikes the serpent on the triangle and causes the serpent to mount up the channel within the spinal cord. Direct the breath in thought to this triangle._x000d_ We have now finished the physical process and from this point it becomes mental._x000d_ The first exercise is called the "gathering-in". The mind has to be gathered up or withdrawn from wandering._x000d_ After the physical process, let the mind run on and do not restrain it; but keep watch on your mind as a witness watching its action. This mind is thus divided into two--the player and the witness. Now strengthen the witnessing part and do not waste time in restraining your wanderings. The mind must think; but slowly and gradually, as the witness does its part, the player will come more and more under control, until at last you cease to play or wander._x000d_ 2nd Exercise: Meditation--which may be divided into two. We are concrete in constitution and the mind must think in forms. Religion admits this necessity and gives the help of outward forms and ceremonies. You cannot meditate on God without some form. One will come to you, for thought and symbol are inseparable. Try to fix your mind on that form._x000d_ 3rd Exercise: This is attained by practicing meditation and is really "one-pointedness". The mind usually works in a circle; make it remain on one point._x000d_ The last is the result. When the mind has reached this, all is gained--healing, clairvoyance, and all psychic gifts. In a moment you can direct this current of thought to anyone, as Jesus did, with instantaneous result._x000d_ People have stumbled upon these gifts without previous training, but I advise you to wait and practise all these steps slowly; then you will get everything under your control. You may practise healing a little if love is the motive, for that cannot hurt. Man is very short-sighted and impatient. All want power, but few will wait to gain it for themselves. He distributes but will not store up. It takes a long time to earn and but a short time to distribute. Therefore store up your powers as you acquire them and do not dissipate them._x000d_ Every wave of passion restrained is a balance in your favor. It is therefore good policy not to return anger for anger, as with all true morality. Christ said, "Resist not evil", and we do not understand it until we discover that it is not only moral but actually the best policy, for anger is loss of energy to the man who displays it. You should not allow your minds to come into those brain-combinations of anger and hatred._x000d_ When the primal element is discovered in chemical science, the work of the chemist will be finished. When unity is discovered, perfection in the science of religion is reached, and this was attained thousands of years ago. Perfect unity is reached when man says, "I and my Father are one".

By this time, Raja Yoga was "well under way" (Goodwin wrote in his letter of June 19) and showing "every promise of ; being published in very handsome form." And while Mrs. Bull ; may have resigned in effect from the New York Publication Committee, she was still in overall charge of the American work. Vague and round about she may have been, but her judgment in practical matters was generally sound. Above all, she had Swamiji's trust. Of this, Mr. Goodwin more than once assured her. On April 11 he had written:

Quite without suggestion from myself-he [Swamiji, who was then still in New York] said" Is Mrs. Bull going to England with us? I am afraid the baby [her grand daughter] will prevent her"-I told him I thought it quite probable that you would go later on, & he said he hoped you would.

I took advantage of this allusion to ask him what he thought of you as the leader of matters connected with the Vedanta in America-His reply was that he looked upon you as a woman of the most excellent judgment & that he would not feel so secure of the work in anyone's hands as in yours; and repeated that he hoped you wd be in England.

You must please excuse the personal character of this, but I know you wished just such an expression of his opinion, & especially a voluntary statement .

Later on, toward the end of the year, Goodwin would again relay to Mrs. Bull (for whom he himself had much respect) words of praise from Swamiji. With the same diffidence and caution he made bold to write:_x000d_ _x000d_ I know it will not interest you much from the personal point of view, but it will probably help you in understanding letters & so on which the Swami writes you, & which seem harsh, if I tell you that the Swami was speaking of you the other evening & said you were the noblest woman he knew, & the "least cranky." Please excuse my being thus personal._x000d_ _x000d_ It is not likely that she took offense.

The Swami worked indefatigably in these days in London, even more so than during his previous visit. If he formed no society or organization, it was not because he did not want his England work to take definite and permanent form. On the contrary, it was because he wanted its early stages to be slow, quiet, and sure; he wanted to build on firm and lasting foundations, attracting to his movement strong, serious, and intellectual men and women who would carry it on along the lines lie was laying down. "Mr. Sturdy and I want to get a few of the best, say, strong and intelligent men in England to form a society, and therefore we must proceed slowly,", he had written to Mrs. Bull from Reading in September of 1895. "We must take care not to be run over with 'fads' from the first." And to Christine Greenstidel on October 4 of the same year, "All great things must of necessity be slow." The results of the Swami's formally unorganized, but by no means haphazard, work were satisfying to him. "The work in England bids fair to be much better and deeper than in the U.S.," he wrote to Mrs. Hale on July 7, 1896. "And here in London is the heart of India also." And again, three months later to his American disciple Miss Waldo, "My European work in fact is becoming more satisfactory to me than any other work, and it tells immensely on India."

The Swami now accepted the invitation of three of his more intimate friends for a tour and a holiday on the Continent. Those who planned the Swami's holiday and accompanied him on his tour were Captain and Mrs. 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 strenuous exertion and strain of his work. Then, too, it being the holiday season, many of his students and admirers were leaving London for seaside or mountain resorts. The Swami was "as delighted as a child" at the prospect. He was particularly eager to visit Switzerland. When the idea of a trip to the Alps had been suggested, the Swami had joyfully exclaimed, "Oh, I long to see the snows and wander on the mountain paths! Above all, I must cross a glacier."

On the Thursday evening following this gala affair Swamiji lectured at the invitation of another famous woman, whose early life, in some respects, bore a similarity to that of Victoria Martin. Mrs. Annie Besant (whose name, she said, rhymed with "pleasant") is known today almost exclusively for her long leadership of the Theosophical movement, but for years before Theosophy entered her life and she its, she had been actively and conspicuously at the center of what were to the Victorian world radical and shocking causes. She was beautiful, charming, brilliant, and a spellbinding orator. She lived her life as she wished, though, unlike Victoria Woodhull, she did so with extreme circumspection. She was an Atheist, a Socialist, a crusader of the Trade-Union movement, a champion of birth control (a subject as unmentionable as was "free love"), and while she was not divorced, she had tried her best to become so and was legally separated from her husband. She was ostracized, villified, and once jailed. And then, with the same stunning suddenness and thoroughness with which Mrs. Wood¬hull had changed the pattern and mode of her life, Mrs. Besant embraced Theosophy. That had been in 1889, soon after her first meeting with Madame Helena Blavatsky. Her subsequent rise to prominence in the Theosophical movement had been meteoric; she was soon one of its leaders, placing her unquestioned gifts in its service. "She is not psychic nor spiritual in the least-all intellect," Madame Blavatsky had written to William Q, Judge shortly before her own death in 1891. But she had qualities that made up for any deficiency. Her heart is "one single unbroken diamond," Madame Blavatsky continued, "transparent . . . And filled to the brim with pure, unadulterated Theosophy and enthusiasm.

It may seem odd that Swamiji should accept an invitation to speak before the Theosophical Society in London after Mr. Sturdy had so diligently let it be known the previous year that the Hindu Monk was. not in any way associated with that, or any other, organization. But by now Swamiji had firmly established his independence of all religious groups and societies; he could well afford to speak where he chose and to whom he wished. Moreover, although the Theosophical Society had at times been hostile toward him, he said or did nothing whatsoever in the West to harm it; such was not his way. His acceptance of Mrs. Besant's invitation was in friendship. "Godspeed to everyone who wants to do good to the world, he had written in 1895 in connection with her.

The two most conspicuous Indians now in England are Swami Vivekananda and Mr. K. S. Ranjitsinghi. In a certain sense they represent extremes, but both alike are extremes of excellence, Vivekananda soars on the aerial altitudes of the spirit; and Mr. Ranjitsinghi re¬presents the perfection of certain kinds of physical ac¬complishment. The Swami, on his plane, is brilliant, original, illuminating. Alike by his presence, his teaching, and the magnetism of his soul he has impressed large numbers of men and women in England. He has not only rescued the religion of the Hindus from the reproach of a gross and groveling idolatry but placed it on a height and in a light which cannot but secure the respect of men. The young Rajput Chief in his sphere stands glori¬ously first, and has distanced all competitors as widely as Boswell was regarded by Macaulay to have distanced other biographers. He is the best bat in England, the country most distinguished for the skill of its players. In many other games than cricket, too, he can be beaten by few. He thus sheds a rare lustre on his countrymen, for he exhibits a skill which Englishmen highly value and has achieved a distinction of which they cannot but be jealous.

How many talks Swamiji gave in London that season it is hard to say with accuracy. Aside from his many classes, his six Sunday afternoon lectures, and the few "outside" lectures and talks that we have mentioned, he undoubtedly spoke on occasions of which we know nothing, or very little. He is, for instance, said to have addressed a large meeting "at Notting Hill Gate [a neighborhood of West London] at the residence of. Mrs. Hunt." This information originated with Mr. Goodwin's letter of June 23 to the Brahmavadin.52 He tells in this same letter that Swamiji "also spoke to a large meeting at Wimbledon, when a good deal of helpful discussion followed the lecture." "Several other meetings of a similar character have been held," Goodwin went on, and that must have indeed been so, for Swamiji was in great demand. So often did he lecture and hold classes that by the end of June he was physically exhausted. "At one time he thought of stopping the work," John Fox wrote to Mrs. Bull on June 17, "but is to keep on till about the 15th of July." Swamiji s regular students surely kept on with him, but around the beginning of July many Londoners fled the hot city, and as a consequence, the attendance at his last two Sunday lectures (July 5 and 12) at the Royal Institute noticeably fell off-though, as Mr. Fox informed Mrs. Bull in a letter dated July 16, "the [Art] Gallery was three-fourths filled each time.

But Swamiji knew that his ideas would spread only slowly. In an interview he had given to a reporter at 63 St. George's Road he had said,* "When you deal with roots and foundations, all real progress must be slow. Of course, I need not say that these ideas are bound to spread by one means or another, and to many of us the right moment for their dissemination seems now to have come. Indeed Swamiji was convinced that India's spirituality would eventually conquer England. "Today [England] has the sword," he is reported as having said in this same interview, "but it is worse than useless in the world of ideas. You know what Schopenhauer said of Indian thought. He foretold that its influence would be as momentous in Europe, when it became well known, as the revival of Greek and Latin culture after the Dark Ages. . . . I dare say a good many people saw no signs of the old Renaissance and did not know it was there, even after it had come. But there is a great movement, which can be discerned by those who know the signs of the times._x000d_ * In volume five of the Complete Works one finds two interviews given by Swamiji at St. George's Road, South Belgravia, London. One, entitled "India's Mission," is from the Sunday fimes; the other, entitled "India and England," is from the London monthly_x000d_ India and is signed "C.S.B." So similar are the topics discussed in these interviews that one cannot but suspect that there was but one conversation written up in two different ways by "C.S.B."

Swamiji well knew that the world was moving into a new era where the thought of the East would become essential. He knew that the giant tree he was planting would bear its fruit when the need for it came, and he knew he was planting that tree firm and deep. "The work here is coming to a head," he wrote to Swami Ramakrishnananda on June 24. "We have already got funds to start a London Centre. Next month I go to Switzerland to pass a month or two there, then I shall return to London. What will be the good of my going home? This London is the hub of the world. The heart of India is here. How can I leave without laying a sure foundation here? Nonsense!

Mr. and Mrs. Hale were in Stockholm when Swamiji's letter reached them; their path did not cross his until much later in the year. Mrs. Bull was as unlucky in this respect. Quite suddenly, she decided to come, after all, to London. She was to sail on the S.S. Cestriars, due to arrive in Liverpool on July 17. And then, as suddenly, she canceled her plans, which was as well. Presumably her intention had been to see Swamiji-what else at this time of year, when everyone was fleeing from London to resorts on the coast, estates in the country, or spas abroad? She would not have arrived in the city until July 18 at the earliest, on which day Swamiji expected to set off for Europe. A letter from him, dated July 8, advising her of his plans, could not have reached her in time for her to change hers; indeed, his multipostmarked envelope was originally addressed to the hotel in Liverpool where she had made a reservation. He meant only at this late date to express his regrets. In a heretofore unpublished portion of this letter he wrote:_x000d_ Received your letter last evening. Very glad to learn you are coming but I do not know whether I will be able to see you or not-I start for Switzerland on the 18th of this month.* It has been all previously arranged. And as you never write a certain word but always keep things dubious, I could only take the best that opened to me-to go to Switzerland for August & September with some friends._x000d_ If however your boat is here earlier-and you come to London-than 18th I am at your service till 18th._x000d_ * By July I4, the date of Swamiji's departure for Switzerland had been moved ahead to Sunday, July I9 (see Complete Works, 5:IO9). The trip was very likely postponed for one day so that he could accept the invitation to preside at the London Hindu Association on July 18.

It is not known at present what prevented Mrs. Bull from embarking on the Cestrian. But a letter of dire foreboding from Swami Kripananda may have been a contributing factor. On July 2, still in Detroit, still in a desolate state of mind, he wrote:

My best wishes accompany you on your voyage._x000d_ I wish, however, you would not go to England. I see great dangers before you. Not only your money, but also -your honor, is at stake. A terrible abyss is opening before you ready to engulf you._x000d_ Go not to England, listen to my warning._x000d_ It is the spirit of my old love and friendship for you that dictates me this warning; for, whatever has happened between you and me, however much pain and suffering you gave me in the last few months by your lack of sympathy and compassion in a period of the greatest distress when friendship's offices were mostly needed, I cannot Forget what you were to me once. . . ._x000d_ I do not know whether under the circumstances in which I am placed I shall have a chance to see you before my long voyage. If events should take this turn, I want you to know that my last thought in departing was-a blessing for you.

High View, Caversham, Reading_x000d_ 3rd July, 1896_x000d_ Dear Shashi,_x000d_ Send Kali to England as soon as you get this letter. . . . He will have to bring some books for me. I have only got Rig-Veda Samhita. Ask him to bring the Yajur-Veda, Sama-Veda, Atharva-Samhita, as many of the Brahmanas as he can get, beginning with the Shatapatha, some of the Sutras, and Yaska's Nirukta. . . . _x000d_ Let there be no delay as in Sharat's case, but let Kali come at once. Sharat has gone to America, as he had no work to do here. That is to say, he was late by six months, and then when he came, I was here. . . . _x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

SPIRITUALISM AND THE VEDANTA_x000d_ PHILOSOPHY.When first we heard that the Swami Vivekananda was coming to London to expound the Vedanta Philosophy, we were hopeful that his teaching would not only confirm the faith of Spiritualists, but might also add to their number. We hoped this, because the very essence of the Hindu Philosophy is that man is a spirit, and has a body, and not that man is a body, and may have a spirit also; which is as far as many a Western mind can reach. . . .

It has been the glorious privilege of our modern Spiritualism to prove by actual demonstration the existence of spirit apart from flesh, and it would, therefore, seem reasonable to look for co-operation on the part of the exponents of the Vedanta Philosophy and the supporters of Spiritualism. We are not quite certain, however, that this desirable consummation can be attained, for observations made very recently by the Swami are calculated only to divide the two sects. The Vedanta Philosophy sets before the student an ideal aim! Nothing less, in fact, than the unfolding of the God within him, and nothing could well be more impressive and inspiring than the presentation of this idea by a speaker of the force and eloquence of the Swami. We could only respect and admire, until modern Spiritualism was alluded to, and that in a manner which left upon us the impression that the Swami condemned without reservation all sitting for phenomena. He admitted having sat for observation with professional mediums, and held that one and all had practised fraud. `Spirit voices,' according to the Swami, are never heard to clash! As `the sepulchral dies away the small child's voice rises up,' intimating thus that ventriloquism was invariably responsible for the sounds. `Spirit messages,' he remarked, `were quite worthless, for they never rose above the level of "I am well and happy," or "Give John a piece of cake." ' This assertion could, of course, only be made in ignorance of the contents of `Spirit Teachings,' a book which, we think, can well stand comparison even with the exalted teaching of the Swami Vivekananda. The process of making up sham materialisations and working the figure on the end of a wire was also described in detail.

We were present again the following evening, when a paper of questions bearing upon the adverse criticism of the Swami was read out to the meeting. Some thirty minutes were then passed in qualifying and explaining his remarks of the night before, and, to our deep satisfaction, the Swami not only confessed his belief in the possibility of spirits communicating with mortals, but even expressed his conviction that at times spirits of a high grade visited earth in order to assist mankind. It is, however, we conceive, no part of the Vedanta Philosophy to recommend the seeking of such intercourse, on account of its possible `dangers.' It is commonly held that the undeveloped spirit can most easily communicate with man, consequently the Swami uttered his word of warning and withheld any word of encouragement. . . .

To gain the summit of a mountain without climbing might be desirable if possible, but who can do it?

. . . We intend to learn all we can from the Swami. We recognise his ability, his earnestness, and his high purpose, but we claim for ourselves such tribute and recognition as we yield to others.

To Mrs. Ole Bull_x000d_ 63 St. George's Road, London, S.W._x000d_ 6th July 1896_x000d_ Dear Mrs. Bull___x000d_ I have sent to Mr. Leggett by last mail the power of attor ney, and, as you desired, this is to notify you of the fact and absolve you from the responsibilities of the power of attorney which I gave you in America last year._x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ Saradananda and Goodwin have arrived, I am sure, by this time. I have a nice letter from Dr. Jain [Dr. Lewis G. Janes]. I am going to Switzerland for a vacation in a few days. I mean to stay there a month or more. I will return to London in the next fall. I do not know when I go back to India._x000d_ Things are growing nicely here._x000d_ With love to all,_x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

But Mrs. Bull's mind was made up, and the power of attorney was transferred. In a heretofore unpublished passage of a letter to Mr. Francis Leggett, dated July 6, Swamiji wrote:_x000d_ _x000d_ Your kind letter and the pound 40 for the publication duly reached me and a beautiful letter from Mother [Mrs. Leggett]._x000d_ Mrs. Bull writes to me to make out a power of attorney for you in regard to the books which I send herewith. _x000d_ [Enclosed was the following, dated July 6, 1896:]

To Mr. Francis Leggett _x000d_ 63 St. George's Road, London, S.W._x000d_ 6th July 1896_x000d_ To Francis Leggett, Esq._x000d_ Dear Sir,_x000d_ Herewith I constitute you as my attorney and representative in regards to all publication pamphlets etc., written or dictated by me, their copyright, sale, etc., in the U.S. of America._x000d_ Yours affectionately,_x000d_ Vivekananda

63 St. George's Road, London S.W._x000d_ 6th July, 1896_x000d_ Dear Frankincense {Mr. Leggett},_x000d_ . . . Things are going on with me very well on this side of the Atlantic._x000d_ 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. The Galsworthys have been very very kind. Joe brought them round splendidly. I simply admire Joe in her tact and quiet way. She is a feminine statesman or woman. She can wield a kingdom. I have seldom seen such strong yet good common sense in a human being. I will return next autumn and take up the work in America._x000d_ The night before last I was at a party at Mrs. Martin's, about whom you must already know a good deal from Joe._x000d_ 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 center 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 high and mighty Anglo-Indians. I think I am slowly approaching to that state when I should be able to love the very "Devil" himself, if there were any._x000d_ At twenty years of age 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 the Universal Love which is the Lord Himself? Again I have heard that if one does not see the evil round him he cannot do good work--he 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 every one, 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 you and Mrs. Leggett's love and kindness to me. I bless the day I was born. 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, my joys, my life? He is my playful darling, I am His playfellow. There is neither rhyme nor reason in the universe! 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._x000d_ 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._x000d_ I have learnt a thing or two: Beyond, beyond reason and learning and talking is the feeling, the "Love", the "Beloved". Ay, sake , fill up the cup and we will be mad._x000d_ Yours ever in madness,_x000d_ Vivekananda

The Swami was in the highest of spiritual moods during his stay in London. Often he was all radiance and ecstasy, showering infinite love and sympathy on everyone and everything. Nothing better illustrates this than the following letter dated July 6, 1896, which he wrote to Mr. Francis H. Leggett, addressing him affectionately as "Frankincense":

Here one has Swami Vivekananda himself. As he speaks of his beloved Lord, we see him in a mood akin to the ecstasy of Saint Francis of Assisi or bordering on that divine madness which possessed the Sufis of old.

63 St. George's Road_x000d_ London, S.W._x000d_ 6th July, 1896_x000d_ Dear Friend and Brother {Dr. Lewis I. Janes}, _x000d_ Yours of the 25th June has duly reached and gave me great pleasure. I am so glad to see the noble work progressing. I had learnt with the greatest delight from Mrs. Bull of the work that is going to be done in Cambridge this winter and no better person could have been selected to direct it as yourself. May all power attend you. I will be only too glad to write for the magazine from time to time and my first instalment was to be in a few weeks, when I hope to get some leisure. Certainly it goes without saying that no one of the types we call religious ought to die--they like races require fresh infusion of blood in the form of ideas. It is wonderful to be able to sympathise with others from their standpoints of view._x000d_ By this time Goodwin and the other Swami must have reached America. They I trust will be of help to you in your noble work. Godspeed to all good work and infinite blessings on all workers for good._x000d_ Yours ever in the truth,_x000d_ Vivekananda

Swamiji's Sunday lectures were, in fact, well attended and, as he wrote to Mr. Leggett on July 6, "quite successful"; indeed, the art gallery, which seated around two hundred people, was generally filled to capacity. There can be little doubt, however, that with better publicity Swamiji could have filled a much larger hall, and if he himself did not care for crowds, Mr. Sturdy did. Apparently still disgruntled that his publication plans for the "little books" mentioned above had been curtailed and delayed for two or three months, Sturdy would append the following note to a lecture pamphlet printed in December of 1896: "The conviction must...be here declared that in place of the hundreds who have heard Swami Vivekananda's teachings during the past year, thousands would have listened and benefited had they known of the existence and nature of such exposition. But time is needed to make such a subject known in an age when by vast advertisement and trumpet blast all things having a little worth or none, are clamouring for the distracted attention of mankind. Progress has however been made, and that of the best kind, for the few who first met Swami Vivekananda soon brought their friends, and these latter, equally gratified, have extended that circle, and so in all probability the knowledge of his work will increase.

To Mrs. G. W. Hale_x000d_ July 7, 1896_x000d_ Dear Mother___x000d_ [On the] 18th of this month I start for Switzerland for a holiday. I will come back to London again to work in the Autumn. The work in England bids fair to be much better and deeper than in the U.S. And here in London is the heart of India also. Where are you now? I am passing through Geneva on my way to the Hills. I will be there a day or two._x000d_ If you be somewhere near, I will make it a point to come to see you. Did you hear Annie Besant? How did you like her? What about your plans of going to India next winter? What about the innocents at home? I haven't had any news of them. My love to Father Pope, Mother Temple and yourself. Kindly answer as I will be only a few days here._x000d_ Ever yours with love and gratitude,_x000d_ Vivekananda

London,_x000d_ 7th July, 1896_x000d_ Dear Babies {the Hale sisters},_x000d_ The work here progressed wonderfully. I had one monk here from India. I have sent him to the U.S.A. and sent for another from India. The season is closed; the classes, therefore, and the Sunday lectures are to be closed on the 16th next. And on the 19th I go for a month or so for quiet and rest in the Swiss Mountains to return next autumn to London and begin again. The work here has been very satisfactory. By rousing interest here I really do more for India than in India. Mother wrote to me that if you could rent your flat, she would be glad to take you with her to see Egypt. I am going with three English friends to the Swiss Hills. Later on, towards the end of winter, I expect to go to India with some English friends who are going to live in my monastery there, which, by the by, is in the air yet. It is struggling to materialise somewhere in the Himalayas._x000d_ Where are You? Now the summer is in full swing, even London is getting very hot. Kindly give my best love to Mrs. Adams, Mrs. Conger, and all the rest of my friends in Chicago._x000d_ Your affectionate brother,_x000d_ Vivekananda

63 St. George's Road, London S.W._x000d_ 8th July, 1896_x000d_ Dear Mrs. Bull,_x000d_ The English people are very generous. In three minutes' time the other evening, my class raised £150 for the new quarters for next autumn's work. They would have given £500 on the spot if wanted, but we want to go slow, and not rush into expense. There will be many hands here to carry on the work, and they understand a bit of renunciation, here--the deep English character._x000d_ Yours with best wishes,_x000d_ Vivekananda

In a heretofore unpublished portion of this same letter Swamiji added, " . . . The work is growing here-as it never grew anywhere else. That, [together] with these men and women with such strong decision of character, the work will never vanish.

Meanwhile, there was Raja Yoga. In another heretofore unpublished paragraph of Swamiji's letter of July 8 to Mrs. Bull (which he had expected her to receive in Liverpool) one finds that there was still trouble of sorts surrounding the publication of that book._x000d_ _x000d_ I will try once more to give the half over to Sturdy (he wrote]. What a storm in a tea pot about this little book! However it [is] all right now. The money and everything has been already paid.

The first sentence of the above referred to Mrs. Bull's round-about method of supplying her half of the cost of publication (Mr. Leggett having paid the other half).

Blavatsky Lodge, as the Theosophical Headquarters in London was called, was located at 19 Avenue Road in St. John's Wood, then a residential district of detached houses and big, leafy gardens. The spacious "lodge" had once belonged to Mrs. Besant, who in 1890 transferred it to the Society. In the grounds behind the house, a meeting hall had been built, which, though unprepossessing on the outside, was elaborately decorated inside with intricate religious, occult, and zodiacal symbols. At one end of the hall was a low platform backed by a large mirror bearing the six-pointed Theosophical star, a painted lion's head, a winged scorpion, and other emblems. It was here that Swamiji stood on the evening of July 9 to deliver "an eloquent discourse on Bhakti Yoga to a crowded lodge -a discourse of which unfortunately there is no available record.

He also spoke at the Notting Hill Gate residence of a Mrs Hunt, as well as at Wimbledon, where a good deal of helpful discussion followed the lecture. Several other meetings of a similar nature were arranged. The Swami was also warmly received at the residence of Canon Basil Wilberforce at Westminster, and a reception was held there in his honour, at which many distinguished ladies and gentlemen took part.

"By-the-bye, Mrs. Annie Besant invited me to speak at her Lodge on Bhakti. I lectured there one night. Col. Olcott was also there. I did it to show my sympathy for all sects. But Swamiji did not thereby endorse every aspect of Theosophy as it was then taught. "Regard and estimation and love are one thing," he was to say publicly in Madras on his return to India in 1897, "and swallowing everything any one has to say, without reasoning, without criticizing, without analyzing, is quite another. To his mind, occult organizations and beliefs were not among the things India needed.

It was an ill-advised request, but it is to the editor's credit that he published Swamiji's reply in the December issue. As subsequently reprinted in the Indian Social Reformer for January 31, 1897, it read:

I must frankly state that in my lifelong experience in the world, I have always found `occultism' injurious and weakening to humanity. What 'we want is strength. We, Indians, more than any other race, want strong and vigorous thought. We have enough of the superfine in all concerns. For centuries we have been stuffed with the mysterious, the result is that our intellectual and spiritual digestion is almost hopelessly impaired and the race has been dragged down to the depths of hopeless imbecility never before or since experienced by any other civilized community. There must be freshness and vigour of thought behind, to make a virile race. More than enough to strengthen the whole world exists in the `Upanishads'. The Advaita is the eternal mine of strength. But it requires to be `applied'. It must first be cleared of the incrustation of scholasticism, and then in all its simplicity, beauty, and sublimity be taught over the length and breadth of the land and applied even to the minutest detail of daily life. This is "a very large order" but we must work toward it nevertheless as [if] it would be accomplished tomorrow. Of one thing I am sure that whoever wants to help his fellow beings through genuine love and unselfishness will work wonders.

Swamiji never minced his words to his own countrymen, but East or West, he gave no quarter to those elements in any creed that degraded or obscured its essential truth. He deplored the elements of bigotry and exclusiveness in Christianity, those of fanaticism in Mohammedanism, those of superstition and priest craft in Hinduism, those of mystery-mongering in Theos¬ophy, those of fraudulence in Spiritualism. Simultaneously, he gave a helping hand to all sincere religious aspiration, whatever its form. To be sure, his proffered hand could at times seem chastising, and at times more offense was taken than he had meant to give. It was under such circumstances that he wrote a clarifying and soothing letter to the editor of Light, a London journal of "Psychical, Occult, and Mystical Research."

A letter to the editor, which appeared in the July 11, 1896 issue of the Light_x000d_ 63, St. George's road, S.W._x000d_ Sir,_x000d_ Allow me to put a few words in your estimable journal as comments on an article in your paper dated July 4th. I must thank you without reserve for the kind and friendly spirit mani¬fested throughout the article towards me and the philosophy I preach; but, as there is a fear of misconstruction in one part of it__especially by my Spiritualistic friends__I want to clear my position. The truth of correspondence between the living and the dead is, I believe, in every religion, and nowhere more than in the Vedantic sects of India, where the fact of mutual help between the departed and the living has been made the basis of the law of inheritance. I would be very sorry if I be mistaken as antagonistic to any sect or form of religion, so far as they are sincere. Nor do I hold that any system can ever be judged by the frauds and failures that would naturally gather round every method under the present circumstances. But, all the same, I cannot but believe that every thoughtful person would agree with me when I affirm that people should be warned of their dangers, with love and sympathy. The lecture alluded to could but accidentally touch the subject of Spiritualism; but I take this opportunity of conveying my deep admiration for the Spiritualist community for the positive good they have done already, and are doing still: (1) the preaching of a universal sympathy; (2) the still greater work of helping the human race out of doctrines which inculcate fear and not love. Ever ready to co operate with, and at the service of, all who are striving to bring the light of the spirit,_x000d_ I remain yours sincerely,_x000d_ Vive Kananda

Sir; Allow me to put a few words in your estimable journal, as comments on an article in your paper dated July 4th. I must thank you without reserve for the kind and friendly spirit manifested throughout the article towards me and the philosophy I preach; but, as there is a fear of misconstruction in one part of it especially by my Spiritualistic Friends I want to clear my position. The truth of correspondence between the living and the dead is, I believe, in every religion, and nowhere more than in the Vedantic sects of India, where the fact of mutual help between the departed and the living has been made the basis of the law of inheritance. I would be very sorry if I be mistaken as antagonistic to any sect or form of religion, so far as they are sincere. Nor do I hold that any system can ever be judged by the frauds and failures that would naturally gather round every method under the present circumstances. But, all the same, I cannot but believe that every thoughtful person would agree with me when I affirm that people should be warned of their dangers, with love and sympathy. The lecture alluded to could but accidentally touch the subject of Spiritualism; but I take this opportunity of conveying my deep admiration for the spiritualist community for the positive good they have done already, and are doing still. ( 1 ) The preaching of a universal sympathy. (2) The still greater work of helping the human race out of doctrines which inculcate fear and not love. Ever ready to co-operate with, and at the service of, all who are striving to bring the light of the spirit; I remain, yours sincerely,_x000d_ _x000d_ 63, St. George's-road, S.W. ViveKananda.

(In connection with Swamiji's views on whether or not psychic phenomena are capable of scientific demonstration, it is of interest to read in the Complete Works a short undated talk he gave in London during a discussion on the subject. Cutting through webs of fruitless debate, he said, "In order to have scientific explanation of psychical phenomena, we require not only perfect evidence on the side of the phenomena themselves, but a good deal of training on the part of those who want to see. All this being granted, we shall be in a position to say yea or nay about the proof or disproof of any phenomena which are presented before us. But before that, the most remarkable phenomena, or the most oft-recorded phenomena that have happened in human society, in my opinion, would be very hard indeed to prove even in an off-hand manner.")

England,_x000d_ 14th July, 1896_x000d_ Dear Dr. Nanjunda Rao,_x000d_ The numbers of Prabuddha Bharata have been received and distributed too to the class. It is very satisfactory. It will have a great sale, no doubt, in India. In America I may get also a number of subscribers. I have already arranged for advertising it in America and Goodyear has done it already. But here in England the progress will be slower indeed. The great drawback here is--they all want to start papers of their own; and it is right that it should be so, seeing that, after all, no foreigner will ever write the English language as well as the native Englishman, and the ideas, when put in good English, will spread farther than in Hindu English. Then again it is much more difficult to write a story in a foreign language than an essay. I am trying my best to get you subscribers here. But you must not depend on any foreign help. Nations, like individuals, must help themselves. This is real patriotism. If a nation cannot do that, its time has not yet come. It must wait. It is from Madras that the new light must spread all over India. With this end you must work. One point I will remark however. The cover is simply barbarous. It is awful and hideous. If it is possible, change it. Make it symbolical and simple, without human figures at all. The banyan tree does not mean awakening, nor does the hill, nor the saint, nor the European couple. The lotus is a symbol of regeneration._x000d_ We are awfully behindhand in art especially in that of painting. For instance, make a small scene of spring re-awakening in a forest, showing how the leaves and buds are coming again. Slowly go on, there are hundreds of ideas to be put forward. You see the symbol I made for the Raja-Yoga, printed by Longman Green and Co. You can get it at Bombay. It consists of my lectures on Raja-Yoga in New York._x000d_ I am going to Switzerland next Sunday, and shall return to London in the autumn, and take up the work again. . . . I want rest very badly, you know._x000d_ Yours with all blessings etc.,_x000d_ Vivekananda

It was not often that Swami Vivekananda, while in the West, took part in debates. One such occasion in London when he did so was during the discussion of a lecture on, "Can Psychic Phenomena be proved from a Scientific Basis?" Referring first to a remark which he had heard in the course of this debate, not for the first time in the West, he said:_x000d_ One point I want to remark upon. It is a mistaken statement that has been made to us that the Mohammedans do not believe that women have souls. I am very sorry to say it is an old mistake among Christian people, and they seem to like the mistake. That is a peculiarity in human nature, that people want to say something very bad about others whom they do not like. By the by, you know I am not a Mohammedan, but yet I have had opportunity for studying this religion, and there is not one word in the Koran which says that women have no souls, but in fact it says they have._x000d_ About the psychical things that have been the subject of discussion, I have very little to say here, for in the first place, the question is whether psychical subjects are capable of scientific demonstration. What do you mean by this demonstration? First of all, there will be the subjective and the objective side necessary. Taking chemistry and physics, with which we are so familiar, and of which we have read so much, is it true that everyone in this world is able to understand the demonstration even of the commonest subjects? Take any boor and show him one of your experiments. What will he understand of it? Nothing. It requires a good deal of previous training to be brought up to the point of understanding an experiment. Before that he cannot understand it at all. That is a great difficulty in the way. If scientific demonstration means bringing down certain facts to a plane which is universal for all human beings, where all beings can understand it, I deny that there can be any such scientific demonstration for any subject in the world. If it were so, all our universities and education would be in vain. Why are we educated if by birth we can understand everything scientific? Why so much study? It is of no use whatsoever. So, on the face of it, it is absurd if this be the meaning of scientific demonstration, the bringing down of intricate facts to the plane on which we are now. The next meaning should be the correct one, perhaps, that certain facts should be adduced as proving certain more intricate facts. There are certain more complicated, intricate phenomena, which we explain by less intricate ones, and thus get, perhaps, near to them; in this way they are gradually brought down to the plane of our present ordinary consciousness. But even this is very complicated and very difficult, and means a training also, a tremendous amount of education. So all I have to say is that in order to have scientific explanation of psychical phenomena, we require not only perfect evidence on the side of the phenomena themselves, but a good deal of training on the part of those who want to see. All this being granted, we shall be in a position to say yea or nay, about the proof or disproof of any phenomena which are presented before us. But, before that, the most remarkable phenomena or the most oft-recorded phenomena that have happened in human society, in my opinion, would be very hard indeed to prove even in an offhand manner._x000d_ Next, as to those hasty explanations that religions are the outcome of dreams, those who have made a particular study of them would think of them but as mere guesses. We have no reason to suppose that religions were the outcome of dreams as has been so easily explained. Then it would be very easy indeed to take even the agnostic's position, but unfortunately the matter cannot be explained so easily. There are many other wonderful phenomena happening, even at the present time, and these have all to be investigated, and not only have to be, but have been investigated all along. The blind man says there is no sun. That does not prove that there is no sun. These phenomena have been investigated years before. Whole races of mankind have trained themselves for centuries to become fit instruments for discovering the fine workings of the nerves; their records have been published ages ago, colleges have been created to study these subjects, and men and women there are still who are living demonstrations of these phenomena. Of course I admit that there is a good deal of hoax in the whole thing, a good deal of what is wrong and untrue in these things; but with what is this not the case? Take any common scientific phenomenon; there are two or three facts which either scientists or ordinary men may regard as absolute truths, and the rest as mere frothy suppositions. Now let the agnostic apply the same test to his own science which he would apply to what he does not want to believe. Half of it would be shaken to its foundation at once. We are bound to live on suppositions. We cannot live satisfied where we are; that is the natural growth of the human soul. We cannot become agnostics on this side and at the same time go about seeking for anything here; we have to pick. And, for this reason, we have to get beyond our limits, struggle to know what seems to be unknowable; and this struggle must continue._x000d_ In my opinion, therefore, I go really one step further than the lecturer, and advance the opinion that most of the psychical phenomena--not only little things like spirit-rappings or table-rappings which are mere child's play, not merely little things like telepathy which I have seen boys do even--most of the psychical phenomena which the last speaker calls the higher clairvoyance, but which I would rather beg to call the experiences of the super-conscious state of the mind, are the very stepping-stones to real psychological investigation. The first thing to be seen is whether the mind can attain to that state or not. My explanation would, of course, be a little different from his, but we should probably agree when we explain terms. Not much depends on the question whether this present consciousness continues after death or not, seeing that this universe, as it is now, is not bound to this state of consciousness. Consciousness is not co-existent with existence. In my own body, and in all of our bodies, we must all admit that we are conscious of very little of the body, and of the greater part of it we are unconscious. Yet it exists. Nobody is ever conscious of his brain, for example. I never saw my brain, and I am never conscious of it. Yet I know that it exists. Therefore we may say that it is not consciousness that we want, but the existence of something which is not this gross matter; and that that knowledge can be gained even in this life, and that that knowledge has been gained and demonstrated, as far as any science has been demonstrated, is a fact. We have to look into these things, and I would insist on reminding those who are here present on one other point. It is well to remember that very many times we are deluded on this. Certain people place before us the demonstration of a fact which is not ordinary to the spiritual nature, and we reject that fact because we say we cannot find it to be true. In many cases the fact may not be correct, but in many cases also we forget to consider whether we are fit to receive the demonstration or not, whether we have permitted our bodies and our minds to become fit subjects for their discovery.

In June, the students had made as certain as they could that he would continue to teach in the fall. In Goodwin's Brahmavadin letter, mentioned above, he wrote: "At the class lecture yesterday morning a number of those who have been regularly attending, combined to guarantee a sum of money necessary to obtain quarters for the exposition of the Vedanta in London. The proposal includes a large room for regular lectures, a library of books on Eastern Philosophy, including all translations of Sanscrit literature, and a monthly magazine. The fact that the necessary funds were forthcoming before the close of the lecture[s] will be encouraging news to all who are interested in the spreading of the Vedanta.

I am very glad to learn from your note that the force of circumstances though not my own friendly advice prevailed upon you to give up your trip to England. . . . You have escaped a great danger. Thank the lord for having disposed things for your best.

To Mrs. Ole Bull_x000d_ 63 St. George's Road_x000d_ 18th July '96_x000d_ Dear Mrs. Bull,_x000d_ I received your last note duly__and you already know my gratitude and love for you and that I perfectly agree with most of your ideas and work._x000d_ I did not understand, however, one point. You speak of Sturdy and myself being members. Members of what? I, as you well know, can not become a member of any society.*_x000d_ I am very glad to learn that you have been favourably impressed by Saradananda. There is one big mistake you are labouring under. What do you mean of [my] writing to my workers more confidentially and not to you? I seldom write to anyone__I have no time to write. I have no workers. Everyone is independent to work as one likes. I do not bother my head about these little things at all. I can give ideas__that is all; let people work them out any way they like, and Godspeed to all._x000d_ "He who works unattached to persons and giving up the fruits of work is a genuine worker"__Gitâ._x000d_ Yours Ever with love and gratitude,_x000d_ Vivekananda

* Mrs. Bull's mention in her note to Swamiji that he and Sturdy were "members" without indicating what they were members of was typical. She seems never to have clarified the point. Receiving Swamiji's letter of July I8, she replied, as he was to inform Sturdy in a letter dated August 23 from Lucerne, that she regretted they "could not be corresponding members of some Society she is founding at Cambridge." "I do [not] remember to have written to her about your and my non-acquiescence in this membership," he added. "I have not yet been able to write even a_x000d_ line" (Completc Works, 5:II3). He wrote to Mrs. Bull from Lucerne on the same day, "I do not know what membership you mean. I have no [?] objection to have my name to be put on the list of membership of any society. As for Sturdy I did not know what his opinions are" (ibid., 6:370). (In Swamiji's original letter (Sen Col.) the words "no objection" are clearly written. But he had as clearly written in his letter of July I8, I896, to Mrs. Bull that as a sannyasin he did indeed have an objection: "I [,] as you well know [,] cannot become a member of any society." How one is to resolve this apparent contradiction, I do not know.) The "society" Mrs. Bull had in mind was most likely the Cambridge Conferences-lecture courses which she was organizing with Dr. Lewis G. Janes as Director (see note for page 342, chapter fourteen). Swamiji knew and approved of this project, although he had probably not thought of it as a society.

Although no report of his lecture has been found in the London papers, the following article from the Daily Chronicle of July 20 gives some idea of the meeting itself. It read in part:

LONDON HINDU ASSOCIATION._x000d_ _x000d_ On Saturday a social conference of Indians resident in Great Britain and Ireland was held under the auspices of above-named association at Montague Mansions [a hotel and office building], Museum Street, W.C., when Swami Vivekananda, M.A., the representative of Hinduism at the Parliament of Religions of Chicago, presided, A number of English ladies and gentlemen attended, the others present being composed of Hindus, Parsees, and Mohammedans. After a brief opening by the chairman Mr. Ram Mohan Ray, barrister, delivered an address: on "Hindus and their Needs". He commenced by saying that political questions would not be alluded to at the conference, the subjects to be introduced being entirely of a social character. . . . In the discussion which followed,_x000d_ # _x000d_ Miss Morant drew attention to the condition of women in India with regard to what she termed the army of occupation. Mr. D. Naoroji said, so far back as 1849, he and others started three parsee and three Hindu schools which had flourished. . . . Dr. Moncure Conway advised the association not to go rashly to work, but to gather together the genius of India, and by careful action they would in time succeed. Mr. Martin Wood, Mr. T. J. Desai, Sevak Ram (the hon secretary), and the chairman, also spoke, and the meeting closed with the usual vote of thanks.

The "chairman" who also spoke was, of course, Swamiji. Mr. T. J. Desai, the secretary of the Association, whom we met earlier, has related in his reminiscences something of the impression Swamiji made when, "as chairman of the conference [he] rose to speak and . . . electrified the audience."

When he struck his hand on the table during his speech (Mr. Desai related] my watch bounded from the table and fell down on the ground and created a visible sensation! He had a commanding figure, and my landlady, who had come to the meeting with me, was greatly impressed with his speech and personality. While the Swami had captivated the British public by his oratory, it was placarded as I was going home, that Prince Ranjit Singhi had saved the honour of England against the Australian team. He had scored 154 runs and was not out!

If Swami returns to India and speaks as he did last Saturday to the London Hindu Association, he ought to take the country by storm. I never heard him so eloquent, so earnest, in appealing to the young Hindus to give up European dress and airs on returning home, and mingling with the people and trying to help them. He denounced caste in the strongest terms, and spoke finely on the position of women. I wish you had been there.

Swamiji's fiery talk to his compatriots and their response to it made Fox "fear less for his success in India." He need not have feared at all. Swamiji was already a national hero to the Indian people, as well known and loved in his own field as the great Ranjit Singh was, at the time, well known and loved in his.

On the morning of the departure the Swami was all excitement. He had unburdened himself of the very thought of responsibilities. Several of his London friends formed a farewell party; but there was no sadness in this farewell, as the Swami was to return within two months or so. At eleven o'clock on the morning of Sunday, July I 9, he and his companions left London with the best wishes of all his students and disciples.

But copyright or no, Raja Yoga was finally on its way, and Swamiji could go off to Europe with that transatlantic storm behind him. "The season has ended," he had written to Francis Leggett in his letter of July 6, "and I too am thoroughly exhausted. I am going to make a tour in Switzerland with Miss Muller." As mentioned in the last chapter, Captain and Mrs. Sevier were also to be Swamiji's hosts on this tour that he so badly needed after ten weeks of strenuous and steady work-indeed one might say not ten weeks but three years, for this was to be the first real vacation he had had since his arrival in Vancouver on July 25 of 1893.

Indeed, Mrs. Bull's part in the financing of publishing Raja Yoga was remarkable, and the present writer can do no better by way of recounting it than to quote the following passage in a letter from Goodwin to Mrs. Bull, dated July 19:

I explained [to Sturdy] how the whole matter stood, &, Mr Sturdy says he would not care to receive the money from the Swami, even although it was an obligation to some other person that he was liquidating, & he would rather pay the half amount, unless indeed it was arranged between you & Mr Leggett that Mr Leggett shall meet the whole cost. In the event of Mr Leggett not caring to take any further responsibility than his half Mr Sturdy, in taking up the other half, requests that you will look upon it as a liquidation through him of the Swami's obligation to you but that you, all the same, retain your control, together with Mr Leggett, of the whole affair, & that Mr Sturdy remain, as heretofore, merely your agent in the matter, in trying to fulfil, as far as can be, your wishes, & the success of the work. Under these circumstances the return from the book as far as your interest in it, would also remain yours.

In any event, the book was published. "Raja Yoga came out Monday [July 13] after many revisions of proof by Mr. Goodwin and Mr. Sturdy," Mr. Fox informed Mrs. Bull in a letter dated July 16. "It seems to have no copyright at all; at least Mr. Sturdy knows of none. Perhaps you had better say very little or nothing about the matter to him. The matter was no doubt a touchy one. After the many and complicated discussions that had taken place in both America and England regarding the copyright of Raja Yoga, Swamiji had apparently settled the matter with a word. In October of 1896 he would write to Alasinga: "You can very well get out a cheap edition of Raja Yoga if you like.* I have not reserved any copyright on it purposely._x000d_ * The cheap Indian edition of Raja Yoga, which, came out in Madras in I898, was to cause Mr. Slurdy considerable distress. "If we allowed anybody to print and undersell our books as soon as they were becoming successful no decent publisher would deal with us," he wrote to Mrs. Bull inJuly of I898. "I gather from Swamiji's short note to me that he did authorize the Madras Edition. I can only write to Longmans and apologize. They seem not to put the book in any of their lists nor to push it in any way in England now, having I suppose become disgusted with the whole business" (A.A.)._x000d_ As for America, Longmans, Green, and Company had not copyrighted the book there. The New York Vedanta Society was legally free, therefore, to bring out an edition through another publisher. The first American edition appeared in I897 under the title Vedanta Philosophy: Lectures by the Swami Vivekananda on Raja Yoga and Other Subjects. The "other subjects" were Swamiji's lecture "Immortality" and the text of his book Bhakti Yoga. Swamiji's appendix to the London Raja Yoga was unchanged, but the glossary was much enlarged by Swami Abhedananda to serve the entire text of the American edition.

The "we" who attended this luncheon included Swami Abhedananda, who was getting on well in this foreign land. Goodwin "piloted" him about London, showing him the sights; Swamiji saw to it that he met people of all classes, coached him in public speaking, and before long decided that he should give a talk. The young Swami was not to avoid this first-speech trial in London, as Swami Saradananda had for-tuitously done earlier in the year (see chapter twelve, section one). The story has come down to us that in the late morning of the scheduled day (October 27) in what must have been Swamiji's seventh-story Victoria Street classroom, Swami Abhedananda said to his older brother, who had just given the glowing class-lecture "God in Everything," “You know, Naren, I don't think I will speak this afternoon. Some other time . . ." And Swamiji, who was a good deal more strongly built than Swami Abhedananda, replied fiercely, "Kali, you must speak, or I will throw you out that window!"

It was a well-chosen gathering at which Swami Abhedananda spoke that afternoon-a small, informal, and friendly meeting of the Christo-Theosophical Society (at 33 Bloomsbury Square) that had convened to hear Swamiji himself. If the audience was at first disappointed not to hear the speaker it had come to hear, it was soon delighted with the young Swami's maiden speech and enchanted by the sight of Swamiji’s own unbounded pleasure. Mr. Eric Hammond, who was present, recalled that "an overwhelming joy was noticeable in the Swami in his scholar's success. Joy compelled him," Hammond went on,

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 well-beloved son, a successful and brilliant student. . . . The whole impression had in it a glowing beauty quite indescribable. . . . He remarked that this was the first appearance of his dear Brother and pupil, as an English-speaking lecturer before an English audience, _x000d_ and he pulsated with pure pleasure at the applause that followed the remark. His selflessness throughout the episode burnt itself into one's deepest momory.

But for Mr. Hammond that radiant scene would have eluded us-as have how many others! Swamiji wrote with restraint to Alasinga of the lecture: "The new Swami delivered his maiden speech yesterday at a friendly society's meeting. It was good and I liked it; he has the making of a good speaker in him I am sure. Goodwin was as matter-of fact: "The, Swami Avedananda lectured to the Christo-Theosophical Socy last week, &. was exceedingly good. He will make a lecturer. That is all we would have known of Swamiji's pleasure on that occasion, which was indeed a momentous one-the beginning 'for Swami Abhedananda of what would be many years of lecturing in the Western world. But even as Swamiji was over joyed with him, he himself was more pleased with his great brother than with his own success. On November 19 he wrote from London to a friend in India:

The Swami is holding his classes here & he is really going to be appreciated by the English people. I am sur¬prised to see the wonderful power of speech which the Swami has got. He can charm & attract hundreds of people by his magnetic influence.

Yon will be glad to know that I have delivered here 3 lectures in English.* In the course of delivering my first lecture I felt a little nervous, but in the other two I was not at all nervous._x000d_ The Swami has got here hundreds of his admire._x000d_ * According to Swami Abhedananda's diary for this period, Miss Souter often invited Swamiji to her house (in Marylebone) for lunch and dinner, introducing him to her friends, one of whom was the Reverend Hugh R. Haweis. Swamiji would take Swami Abhedananda along on these occasions, so that he, too, would meet a number of London's distinguished people. (See Brahmachari Satya Chaitanya, "Londone Swami Vivekananda," part 3, Vishwavani, Caitra, I335, p. 855.)