Some time in May or June, while the Swami was staying at Almora with Mr. and Mrs. Sevier, Aswinikumar Datta, the saintly patriot of Bengal, visited the town in the course of his travels. Aswinibabu learned from his cook that a strange Bengali sadhu was staying in the town, who spoke English, rode horses, and moved about in a lordly style. From the papers he already knew that the Swami was then staying at Almora, and therefore had no difficulty in identifying the strange sadhu as the warrior-monk Vivekananda. He accordingly went out to find the "Hindu Warrior". Nobody could tell him the whereabouts of "Swami Vivekananda"; but when he enquired about the "Bengali sadhu", a passer-by said, "You mean the riding sadhu? There he is, coming on horseback! That is his house, sir." Aswinibabu saw from a distance that as soon as the ochre-robed sannyasi reached the bungalow-gate, an Englishman came and led the horse to the door, where the Swami dismounted and went in.

This is Swami Vivekananda's free translation of verses from Bhartrihari's Sanskrit poem Vairâgya Shatakam. _x000d_ The Swami's translation is from Sister Nivedita's Unpublished Notes of Some Wanderings with the Swami Vivekananda___x000d_ selected verses recorded almost verbatim, but not necessarily in Bhartrihari's order, by Sister Nivedita as Swami Vivekananda translated them orally for some of his Western disciples during a Himalayan pilgrimage in 1898._x000d_ For the researcher's benefit, verses 14 15, 18, 24 26, 31, and 33 have been footnoted as corresponding verses taken from Swami Vivekananda's original handwritten translation, which was given to the Vedanta Society of Southern California by Miss Josephine MacLeod, shortly before her passing away in 1948. This footnoted handwritten version was first published in the collection of poetry entitled In Search of God and Other Poems (Mayavati: Advaita Ashrama, 1968)._x000d_ Stylistic differences in Swami Vivekananda's overall trans¬lation of Bhartrihari's poem are due to those variations inherent in the two aforementioned sources. Obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected._x000d_ The verse numbers, as available, correspond to Bhartrihari's numbering._x000d_ __Publisher_x000d_ _x000d_ bhartrihari's verses on renunciation_x000d_ _x000d_ [A translation of verses from Bhartrihari's Sanskrit poem Vairagya Shatakam]_x000d_ _x000d_ I have travelled in many countries, hard to travel in,_x000d_ And got no result;_x000d_ Giving up pride of birth and position,_x000d_ I have served all._x000d_ Like a crow stealing into a kitchen,_x000d_ With fear I have eaten the bread of others in their homes,_x000d_ Yet thou, Desire, who leadest to evil deeds,_x000d_ Leavest me not!_x000d_ (Verse 2)_x000d_ _x000d_ I have crossed oceans to find wealth._x000d_ I have blasted mountains to get jewels._x000d_ I have spent whole nights in graveyards_x000d_ repeating Mantras_x000d_ And have obtained__not the broken cowrie_x000d_ of blessedness_x000d_ Ah, Desire, give me up now._x000d_ (Verse 3)_x000d_ _x000d_ I have borne the wicked words of the wicked;_x000d_ To please fools, when my heart is weeping,_x000d_ my lips ever laughed._x000d_ Stopping my judgment, I have with folded hands_x000d_ Stood before unworthy persons._x000d_ Even now, my Desire, why do you make me dance _x000d_ like a fool?_x000d_ (Verse 4)_x000d_ _x000d_ For this life, which is like a drop of water _x000d_ on a lotus leaf,_x000d_ We have not enjoyed, but enjoyments have enjoyed us._x000d_ We did not penance, but penances burnt us up._x000d_ Time did not fly, yet we are gone._x000d_ We become decrepit with age, but not so Desire._x000d_ Infirmity assails us, the skin wrinkles,_x000d_ The hair whitens, the body becomes crooked,_x000d_ Old age comes on._x000d_ Desire alone grows younger every day._x000d_ (Verses 5 8)_x000d_ _x000d_ Hope is the name of this river, whose water is Desire,_x000d_ And Thirst the waves thereof._x000d_ Passion is the crocodile living in that water,_x000d_ Vain resolves are the birds that reside_x000d_ In the tree of virtue on the shores and kill it._x000d_ But there are the whirlpools of Delusion_x000d_ And Despondence, the high banks._x000d_ The great Yogis are blissful because they,_x000d_ With their pure minds, never crossed this river._x000d_ (Verse 10)_x000d_ _x000d_ Blessed are they that, living even in the _x000d_ caves of mountains,_x000d_ Meditate on the supreme Light._x000d_ Even the birds will fearlessly drink of the _x000d_ tears of pleasure_x000d_ That flow from their eyes._x000d_ Alas, our minds grow familiar, even in imagination, With palaces and pleasure gardens,_x000d_ And thus our lives fleet by._x000d_ (Verse 14)_x000d_ _x000d_ Even when the only food is gained by begging,_x000d_ and that is tasteless;_x000d_ One's bed, the dry earth;_x000d_ One's whole family, his own body;_x000d_ His only clothing, a ragged bit of cloth___x000d_ Alas, alas, the desire for enjoyment does not leave a man._x000d_ (Verse 15)_x000d_ _x000d_ Not knowing the power of flame, the insect falls into it._x000d_ The fish swallows the bait, not knowing the hook inside._x000d_ That, well aware of the vanity and dangers of the world,_x000d_ We cannot give it up___x000d_ Such is the power of Delusion._x000d_ (Verse 18)_x000d_ _x000d_ Have such places in the Himalayas become extinct_x000d_ That a man should go begging at others' doors?_x000d_ Have the roots in the mountain forests all disappeared?_x000d_ Are the springs all dry? _x000d_ Are the trees all withered that bear sweet fruits _x000d_ And bark for garments_x000d_ That a man should look with fear on the face of a fool, Whose head is turned by a little wealth?_x000d_ (Lit., "Whose eyebrows are dancing with the wind of the pride of a little wealth".)_x000d_ (Verses 24 25)_x000d_ _x000d_ Arise! Let us go into the forest_x000d_ Where pure roots and fruits will be our food,_x000d_ Pure water our only drink,_x000d_ Pure leaves our bed,_x000d_ And where the little minded, the thoughtless,_x000d_ And those whose hearts are cramped with wealth_x000d_ Do not exist._x000d_ (Verse 26)_x000d_ _x000d_ In enjoyment is the fear of disease;_x000d_ In high birth, the fear of losing caste;_x000d_ In wealth, the fear of tyrants;_x000d_ In honour, the fear of losing her;_x000d_ In strength, the fear of enemies;_x000d_ In beauty, the fear of the other sex; _x000d_ In knowledge, the fear of defeat;_x000d_ In virtue, the fear of scandal;_x000d_ In the body, the fear of death._x000d_ _x000d_ In this life, all is fraught with fear._x000d_ Renunciation alone is fearless._x000d_ (Verse 31)_x000d_ _x000d_ The root of health has always round about it_x000d_ A thousand worms in the form of dangers and disease. Where fortune falls, open a hundred gates of danger._x000d_ Whosoever is born, him death will surely swallow. _x000d_ Say, where is that Providence who ever created _x000d_ Anything that died not?_x000d_ (Verse 33) _x000d_ _x000d_ Life is like a wave upon the waters,_x000d_ Youth only remains a few days._x000d_ Wealth is like a fancy of the mind,_x000d_ It immediately vanishes._x000d_ Enjoyment is like a flash of lightning _x000d_ amongst dark clouds._x000d_ Our most beloved one is only for a moment._x000d_ Knowing this, O man, give your heart unto Brahman_x000d_ To cross this ocean of life._x000d_ (Verse 36)_x000d_ _x000d_ . . . Living in whom gods like Indra, Brahmâ _x000d_ and others appear like a blade of grass,_x000d_ Whose anger can destroy the worlds in a moment._x000d_ O sage, know Him, that One Supreme_x000d_ Who dies not,_x000d_ And give not your mind to false enjoyment._x000d_ (Verse 40)_x000d_ _x000d_ Ah, where is happiness in this life?_x000d_ _x000d_ (At best it lasts but a hundred years, of which half is spent in sleep; of the other half, half in decrepitude; of what remains__one half goes in childhood and, of the rest, still half in serving others!)_x000d_ _x000d_ O man, in this futile, wave like life_x000d_ Where is happiness?_x000d_ (Verse 49)_x000d_ _x000d_ Now you appear as child_x000d_ And now as a youth, whose whole occupation is love._x000d_ This moment poor, another wealthy,_x000d_ Now a babe, and again a decrepit old man._x000d_ O actor man, at last you vanish from the stage_x000d_ When death beckons you behind the scenes!_x000d_ (Verse 50)_x000d_ _x000d_ You are a king, but we have served Gurus,_x000d_ Who are great in knowledge._x000d_ You are known by your wealth as a king,_x000d_ We for our knowledge._x000d_ There is infinite difference between us and you,_x000d_ Therefore we are not the persons to wait upon you, _x000d_ O Kings!_x000d_ (Verse 51)_x000d_ _x000d_ Oh, when will that day come,_x000d_ When in a forest, saying "Shiva", "Shiva",_x000d_ My days shall pass?_x000d_ A serpent and a garland the same,_x000d_ The strong foe and the friend the same,_x000d_ The flower bed and the stone bed the same,_x000d_ A beautiful woman and a blade of grass the same!_x000d_ (Verses 85, 90)_x000d_ _x000d_ O Shiva, when shall I be able to cut_x000d_ To the very roots of my Karma,_x000d_ By becoming solitary, desireless, quiet___x000d_ My hands my only plate, and the cardinal points _x000d_ my clothing?_x000d_ (Verse 99)_x000d_ _x000d_ The fruits are sufficient food,_x000d_ The waters of the mountain sufficient dinner,_x000d_ The earth a sufficient bed,_x000d_ And bark a sufficient garment___x000d_ These are all welcome._x000d_ Only I cannot bear the proud words of fools,_x000d_ Whose organs are all disordered by the drink_x000d_ Of the wine of new wealth!_x000d_ (Verse 54)_x000d_ _x000d_ What if you have got the wealth that fulfils every desire?_x000d_ If your foot is on the heads of your foes,_x000d_ What of that?_x000d_ If you have made all your love wealthy,_x000d_ If your body remains a Kalpa __what of that?_x000d_ The only thing to be desired is Renunciation_x000d_ Which gives all love to Shiva._x000d_ (Verse 67)_x000d_ _x000d_ Fear only life, that brings Birth and Death,_x000d_ Have no love of friends, no lust, no attachment._x000d_ Alone, living alone in a forest,_x000d_ What is more to be longed for than this Renunciation._x000d_ (Verse 68)_x000d_ _x000d_ Going searching in the lower regions,_x000d_ Going into the skies,_x000d_ Travelling through all the worlds,_x000d_ This is but the fickleness of the mind._x000d_ Ah, friend, you never remember the Lord_x000d_ Who resides within you!_x000d_ How can you get happiness?_x000d_ (Verse 70)_x000d_ _x000d_ What is there in the reading of Vedas,_x000d_ The Shrutis, the Purânas and doing sacrifices?_x000d_ Freedom alone takes off the weight _x000d_ of this dreadful world,_x000d_ And manifests Self blessedness._x000d_ Here is the truth: the rest is all shop keeping._x000d_ (Verse 71)_x000d_ _x000d_ When the body is still healthy and diseaseless,_x000d_ When old age has not yet attacked it,_x000d_ When the organs have not yet lost their power,_x000d_ And life is still full and undiminished,_x000d_ Now, now, struggle on, rendering great help to yourself!_x000d_ My friend, it is useless to try to dig a well_x000d_ In a house that is already on fire!_x000d_ (Verse 75)_x000d_ _x000d_ In Shiva, who is the Lord of this Universe,_x000d_ Or Vishnu, its soul, I see no difference,_x000d_ But still, my love is for Him_x000d_ Who has the young moon on His forehead._x000d_ (Verse 84)_x000d_ _x000d_ Oh when will that time come,_x000d_ When in a beautiful full moon night,_x000d_ Sitting on the banks of some river,_x000d_ And in a calm, yet high notes repeating _x000d_ "Shiva! Shiva! Shiva!"_x000d_ All my feelings will come out through the eyes_x000d_ In the form of tears?_x000d_ (Verse 85)_x000d_ _x000d_ When, wearing only the Kaupina, _x000d_ Lying on the sands of the holy Ganges in Benares,_x000d_ When shall I weep aloud, "O Lord of ghouls",_x000d_ Saying this, and whole days shall pass like moments?_x000d_ (Verse 87)_x000d_ _x000d_ When, bathing in the pure Ganges water,_x000d_ Worshipping Thee, Omnipresent, with holy fruits _x000d_ and flowers,_x000d_ Stretching myself on stones in a stony cave,_x000d_ My whole soul shall go into meditation,_x000d_ And according to the voice of my Guru,_x000d_ I shall avoid all misery, and purify_x000d_ The mind defiled with serving the rich._x000d_ (Verse 88)_x000d_ _x000d_ This whole wide earth my bed,_x000d_ My beautiful pillows my own two arms,_x000d_ My wonderful canopy the blue sky,_x000d_ And the cool evening air to fan me,_x000d_ The moon and the stars my lamps,_x000d_ And my beautiful wife, Renunciation, by my side,_x000d_ What king is there who can sleep like me in pleasure?_x000d_ (Verse 94)_x000d_ _x000d_ This Universe is only a little circle._x000d_ What is there to desire in it?_x000d_ Will the ocean go into waves_x000d_ By the jumping of a little [fish?]?_x000d_ (Verse 92)_x000d_ _x000d_ There was a time when I could see nothing but Women_x000d_ in this world:_x000d_ And now that my eyes are opened,_x000d_ I can see nothing but Brahman._x000d_ _x000d_ Beautiful are the rays of the moon,_x000d_ Beautiful are the lawns in the forest,_x000d_ Beautiful is the meeting of the good,_x000d_ Beautiful is poetry, and_x000d_ Beautiful is the face of the beloved._x000d_ But to me none of these are beautiful,_x000d_ Knowing that they are evanescent._x000d_ (Verse 79)_x000d_ _x000d_ Oh mother earth, father wind,_x000d_ Friend light, sweetheart water,_x000d_ Brother sky,_x000d_ Here take my last salutation_x000d_ With folded hands!_x000d_ For today I am melting away into Brahman,_x000d_ Because my heart became pure,_x000d_ And all delusion vanished_x000d_ Thro' the power of your good company._x000d_ (Verse 100)_x000d_ _x000d_ Old age watches us, roaring like a tigress._x000d_ Disease, like enemies, is striking us often._x000d_ Life is flowing out like water from a broken jar._x000d_ Curious still how men do evil deeds in this world!_x000d_ (Verse 38)_x000d_ _x000d_ Those beautiful cities._x000d_ Those mighty monarchs._x000d_ Those powerful nobles._x000d_ Those learned assemblies._x000d_ Those moon faced women._x000d_ Those proud princes._x000d_ And those that sang their praises___x000d_ They have all been swept away from the memory_x000d_ of man._x000d_ My salutation, therefore, is to Time who works_x000d_ all these!_x000d_ (Verse 41)_x000d_ _x000d_ The sun by his coming and going every hour_x000d_ is lessening the life of man._x000d_ Time flies without our knowledge,_x000d_ Crushed as we are by the load of many works._x000d_ Seeing the evils of Birth, Old Age, Danger, and Death_x000d_ We are not afraid._x000d_ Ah me, drinking the wine of delusion,_x000d_ The world has become mad._x000d_ (Verse 43)_x000d_ _x000d_ I have not learnt that knowledge which defeats all_x000d_ opponents!_x000d_ Nor have been able, at the point of the sword,_x000d_ Which can cut thro' an elephant's back,_x000d_ To send our glory even unto the skies;_x000d_ Nor, under the light of the full moon,_x000d_ Drunk the nectar of the budding lips of the Beloved._x000d_ My youth is gone fruitless_x000d_ Like a lamp in an empty house._x000d_ (Verse 46)

Sister Nivedita's reminiscence of a conversation with Swami Vivekananda at the time she was learning the Kâli worship:_x000d_ _x000d_ SISTER NIVEDITA: Perhaps, Swamiji, Kali is the vision of Shiva! Is She?_x000d_ SWAMI VIVEKANANDA: Well! Well! Express it in your own way. Express it in your own way!

It was here especially that Sister Nivedita, who had come to be regarded by the Indian people as the Swami's spiritual daughter, received her training at the hands of her Master. It was a training that revealed his greatness, and also the difficulties and struggle that confront the European mind as it endeavours to identify itself with Indian ideals and Indian culture. Between Master and disciple a conflict of personalities developed. The Sister's mental out look was aggressively Occidental and intensely British. Consequently, almost all along the line of contact between her mind and her Master's, areas of difference came to light; and the Swami, because he wanted to infuse into her his own passionate love of India, did not spare her.

From Howrah station to Kathgodam, it took them two nights and a day in the train. At Kathgodam, the rail terminus, they changed to carriages and dandies for Naini Tal, a gay hill-station by the side of a lake, and the summer quarters of the Provincial Government. From there it was another thirty-two miles to Almora.

It was at Naini Tal on this visit that the Swami met a Muslim who was an Advaita Vedantist at heart. His name was Mohammed Sarfaraz Hussain. Struck by the personality and extraordinary spiritual power of the Swami, he exclaimed: "Swamiji, if in after-times any claim you as an Avatara, a special Incarnation of the Godhead, remember that 1, a Mohammedan, am the first!" The gentleman became greatly attached to the Swami, and from then on counted himself one of his disciples, under the name Mohammedananda.

The Swami had several talks at Naini Tal with distinguished residents. In one of these he spoke of the illustrious Raja Rammohun Roy, of his foresight and breadth of vision, eloquently drawing attention to the three dominant notes of this great pioneer's message: his acknowledgement of the Vedanta, his patriotism, and his acceptance of the Hindu and the Muslim on an equal footing. It could almost be said that these were the dominant features of his own message — at least as far as India was concerned.

In another of these talks he spoke of the ignorance about religion to be found among the working-classes in the West. He related an amusing story in this connection: "Once a bishop went to visit a mine. He addressed the labourers and tried to teach them the grand truths of the Bible. In conclusion, he asked, 'Do you know Christ?' One of them responded, 'Well, what is his number?' Poor fellow, he thought that, if the bishop would tell him Christ's number, he could find him among the gang of working-men," The Swami continued: "Unlike the Asiatics, the Westerners are not deeply spiritual. Religious thoughts do not permeate the masses.... The immorality prevalent amongst Western peoples would strike an Indian visiting London or New York. Hyde Park in London shows in broad daylight scenes which would repel an Asiatic, however degraded he might be. The lower classes in the West are not only ignorant of their scriptures and immoral, but are also rude and vulgar. One day as I was passing through the streets of London, in my Eastern garb, the driver of a coal-cart, noticing the strangeness of my dress, hurled a lump of coal at me. Fortunately it passed by my car without hurting me."

At Naini Tal he met Jogeshchandra Datta, whom he had known in his school-days at the Metropolitan Institution, and had seen the previous year at Murree. Jogeshbabu thought it desirable that funds should he raised so that Indian graduates could he sent to England to study for the Civil Service: on their return they might be of help to India. But the Swami had no use for the idea: "Nothing of the kind! They would, mostly, turn outlandish in their ideas and prefer to associate, on their return, with the Europeans. Of that you may he sure! They would live for themselves and copy European dress, diet, manners, and everything else, and forget the cause of their own country." And when he came to speak of the apathy of Indians for the material improvement of their country, and of their lack of enterprise, especially in the industrial field, he wept' with. anguish. Seeing the tears running down his face, the audience was moved. Jogeshbabu writes: "I shall never forget that scene in my life! He was a Tyagi, he had renounced the world, and yet India was in the inmost depth of his soul. India was his love, he felt and wept for India, he died for India. India throbbed in his breast, beat in his pulses, in short, was inseparably bound up with his very life. . . ."

During his stay in Naini Tal, an incident occurred which revealed the humanity of the Swami's heart. While on a visit to the temple of the Mother, the Western women-disciples happened to enter into conversation in broken language with two nautch-girls. In their simplicity and ignorance the Westerners took them for respectable women. The dancing-girls enquired where they could find the Swami; and on their way home they came to where he was staying. They begged to he admitted to his presence, so as to receive his blessings. The Swami refused to have them turned away. This immediately caused a storm of disapproval among his listeners, but he ignored it and allowed them to come to him. He blessed the women and spoke to them such words of power, full of kindness and with no trace of reproach, that the hearts of all present were touched.

Sister Nivedita recalls that it was perhaps on this occasion that the Swami first told them the story of the nautch-girl of Khetri. He had been annoyed at the invitation to watch her dance.. When he had been prevailed upon to attend the performance, she sang: _x000d_ Oh Lord, look not upon my evil qualities! _x000d_ Thy name, 0 Lord, is Same-Sightedness.... _x000d_ _x000d_ And then, Nivedita writes, reproducing her Master's own account, the scales fell from his eyes: he saw that all are indeed one, and he condemned no more. We have already recorded this incident more fully.

At Almora, the Swami, his brother-disciples, and his sannyasi disciples were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Sevier, at Thompson House. His Western disciples stayed nearby in what is now called Oakley House. (From the return addresses given on Sister Nivedita's letters of this-time, it seems that it was then known as "the Old and New House" or "the Old Mess".) After rising early and taking a walk with his brother-disciples, the Swami would go to the house of Mrs. Bull and her guests. Having breakfasted with them, he would converse for some hours on all conceivable subjects.

The Swami met many residents of Almora, and also some noted people from other parts of India who had gone there to spend the summer months. To all of them he gave religious instruction. He met Mrs. Annie Besant twice. She was staying at the house of Shri G. N. Chakravarty, son-in-law of Shri Gaganbabu of Ghazipur, with whom the Swami had stayed as a wandering monk. The wife of Shri Chakravarty, who already knew the Swami, invited him to tea one day. This was the first occasion on which he met Mrs. Besant. They had a long conversation with each other. During the course of it Mrs. Besant appealed to the Swami for friendship between her organization and his, all over the world. Their second meeting was on May 20, when she was invited to the Swami's place of residence for tea.

with the result that it was a delightful and instructive experience for his companions. With passionate enthusiasm he would introduce them to each matter of interest, one by one, as the train reached the scene of its relevance. The greatness of Patna and of Varanasi, later the splendours of the old Nawab courts of Lucknow, were each described with such ardour and absorption that his listeners felt that they were in the presence of one who had lived, and still had his being, in his country's past. There was not a city that he did not look on with tenderness, and whose history he did not know. When traversing the Terai, he made them feel that the very earth beneath them was that on which the Buddha had passed the days of his youth and renunciation in search of the highest truth. The gorgeous peacocks that now and then flew past, would lend occasion for a graphic account of the invincible Rajputs. The sight of an elephant or train of camels would elicit tales of ancient battles or of caravans of merchants and their merchandise, or of the pomp of bygone Rajas or the Mogul court. Then again, there were accounts of famines and pestilences. The long stretches of the plains, with their fields, farms, and villages, would evoke thoughts on the communal system of agriculture, or on the daily life of the farm housewife, or on the hospitality that peasant folk offered to sadhus. In the telling of these last his eyes would glisten and voice falter as the memory of his own days of wandering over the face of India stirred. It had been his pleasure then to reach some village compound at dusk and watch the cows' home-coming. The piety of the Hindu on the banks of the Ganga, and the piety of the Mussulman kneeling in prayer at the appointed hours, were in his eyes equally Indian and of equal worth.

The baked soil of the plains, the hot sands of the desert, and the dried river-beds, each had its message for him. The attentiveness of his Western disciples, who hung on his every word, stirred the Swami to draw on his knowledge and love of India. and from them fashion his poetic descriptions. He showed his listeners how, in India, culture, custom, and religion were one. The burning-ghat, with the attendant thought of a dead body as a thing impure, because cast off by the soul; the use of the right hand for eating, worship, and the counting of beads during Japa; the nun-like life of the Hindu widow and her round of fasts, vigils, and other austerities; the respect for parents as gods incarnate; the Varnashrama Dharma; the appointed hours of religious service and meditation for the Brahmana caste; the twofold ideal of renunciation and realization represented by the sannyasi; the temple that each Hindu home is; the idea of the Ishta (Chosen Ideal); the Vedic chanting by Brahmana children in the temple courtyards of Varanasi and the South; the Muslim's kneeling in prayer wherever the time of prayer might find him; the spirit of equality and fraternity observed among the followers of the Prophet — all these, the Swami would say, were facets of the culture of his land.

But with Almora, it seemed as if a going-to-school had commenced, and just as schooling is often disagreeable to the taught, so here, though it cost infinite pain, the blindness of a half-view must be done away. A mind must be brought to change its centre of gravity. It was never more than this; never the dictating of opinion or creed; never more than emancipation from partiality. Even at the end of the terrible experience, when this method, as regarded race and country, was renounced, never to be taken up systematically again, the Swami did not call for any confession of faith, any declaration of new opinion. He dropped the whole question. His listener went free. But he had revealed a different standpoint in thought and feeling, so completely and so strongly as to make it impossible for her to rest, until later, by her own labours, she had arrived at a view in which both these partial presentments stood rationalized and accounted for.... But at the same time they were a veritable lion in the path, and remained so until she had grasped the folly of allowing anything whatever to obscure to her the personality that was here revealing itself... In every case it had been some ideal of the past that had raised a barrier to the movement of her sympathy, and surely it is always so. It is the worships of one era which forge the fetters of the next.

These morning talks at Almora then took the form of assaults upon deep-rooted preconceptions, social, literary, and artistic, or of long comparisons of Indian and European history and sentiments, often containing extended observations of very great value. One characteristic of the Swami was the habit of attacking the abuses of a country or society openly and vigorously when he was in its midst, whereas, after he had left it, it would often seem as if nothing but its virtues were remembered by him. He was always testing his disciples, and the manner of these particular discourses was probably adopted in order to put to the proof the courage and sincerity of one who was both woman and European.

He, however, appreciated this hesitation on her part to accept ideas that were foreign to her. Once he comforted her by letting her know that he himself had had a five years' fight before accepting some of his own Master's ideas.

And then a time came when one of the older ladies of our party, thinking perhaps that such intensity of pain inflicted might easily go too far, interceded kindly and gravely with the Swami. He listened silently and went away. At evening, however, he returned, and finding us together in the veranda, he turned to her and said, with the simplicity of a child, "You were right. .There must be a change. I am going away into the forests to he alone; and when I come back, I shall bring peace. " Then he turned and saw that above us the moon was new, and a sudden exaltation came into his voice as he said, "See! The Mohammedans think much of the new moon. Let us also with the new moon begin a new life!" As the words ended, he lifted his hands and blessed, with silent depths of blessing, his most rebellious disciple, by this time kneeling before him.... It was assuredly a moment of wonderful sweetness of reconciliation. But such a moment may heal a wound. It cannot restore an illusion that has been broken into fragments. And I have told its story, only that I may touch upon its sequel. long ago, Shri Ramakrishna had told his disciples that the day would come when his beloved "Naren" would manifest his own great gift of bestowing knowledge with a touch. That evening, at Almora, I proved the truth of this prophecy. For alone, in meditation, I found myself gazing deep into an Infinite Good, to the recognition of which no egoistic reasoning had led me. I learnt, too, on the physical plane, the simple everyday reality of the experience related in the Hindu books on religious psychology. And,, 1, understood, for the first time, that the greatest teachers may destroy in us a personal relation, only in order to bestow the Impersonal Vision in its place.

The fist morning, the talk was that of the central ideals of civilization: in the West, truth; in the East, chastity. He justified Hindu marriage-customs, as springing from the pursuit of this ideal, and from the woman's need of protection, in combination. And he traced out the relation of the whole subject to the philosophy of the Absolute.

Another morning he began by observing that as there were four main castes — Brahmana, Kshatriya, Bunea [Vaishya], Shudra — so there were four great national functions, the religious or priestly, fulfilled by the Hindus; the military, by the Roman Empire; the mercantile, by England today; and the democratic, by America in the future. And here he launched off into a glowing prophetic forecast of how America would yet solve the problems of the Shudra — the problems of freedom and co-operation — and turned to relate to a non-American listener, the generosity of the arrangements which that people had attempted to make for their aborigines.

Again, it would be an eager resume of the history of India or of the Moguls whose greatness never wearied him. Every now and then, throughout the summer, he would break out into descriptions of Delhi and Agra. Once he described the Taj as "a dimness, and again a dimness, and there — a grave!" Another time, he spoke of Shah Jehan, and then, with a burst of enthusiasm: "Ah! He was the glory _x000d_ of his line! A feeling for, and discrimination of beauty that are unparalleled in history. And an artist himself ! I have seen a manuscript illuminated by him, which is one of the art-treasures of India. What a genius!" Oftener still, it was Akbar of whom he would tell, almost with tears in his voice, and a passion easier to understand, beside that undomed tomb, open to sun and wind, the grave of Secundra at Agra.

and told us of the thrill with which he saw inscriptions in old Bengali (Kutil?) characters, over the doors of Chinese temples. Few things could be more eloquent of the vagueness of Western ideas regarding Oriental peoples than the fact that one of his listeners alleged untruthfulness as a notorious quality of that race. As a matter of fact the Chinese axe famous in the United States, where they are known as businessmen, for their remarkable commercial integrity, developed to a point far beyond that of the Western requirement of the written word. So the objection was an instance of misrepresentation, which, though disgraceful, is nevertheless too common. But in any case the Swami would have none of it. Untruthfulness! Social rigidity! What were these, except very, very relative terms? And as to untruthfulness in particular, could commercial life, or social life, or any other form of co-operation go on for a day, if men did not trust men? Untruthfulness as a necessity of etiquette? And how was that different from the Western idea? Is the Englishman always glad and always sorry at the proper place? But there is still a difference of degree? Perhaps – but only of degree!

– absorbed his attention; and, holding that their origin was complex, he would tell us how in Switzerland he had felt himself to be in China, so alike were the types. He believed too that the same was true of some parts of Norway. Then there were scraps of information about countries of physiognomies, an impassioned tale of Hungarian scholar# _x000d_ who traced the Huns to Tibet, and lies buried in Darjeeling and so on ....

Sometimes the Swami would deal with the rift between Brahmins and Kshatriyas, painting the whole history of India as a struggle between the two, and showing that the latter had always embodied the rising, fetter-destroying impulses of the nation. He could give excellent reason too for the faith that was in him that the Kayasthas of modern Bengal represented the pre-Mauryan Kshatriyas. He would portray the two opposing types of culture, the one classical, intensive, and saturated with an ever-deepening sense of tradition and custom; the other, defiant, impulsive, and liberal in its outlook. It was part of a deep-lying law of the historic development that Rama, Krishna, and Buddha had all arisen in the kingly, and not in the priestly caste. And in this paradoxical moment, Buddhism was reduced to a caste-smashing formula—"a religion invented by the Kshatriyas" as a crushing rejoinder to Brahminism!

That was a great hour indeed, when he spoke of Buddha; for, catching a word that seemed to identify him with its anti-Brahminical spirit, an uncomprehending listener said, "Why, Swami, I did not know that you were a Buddhist!" "Madam," he said rounding on her, his whole face aglow with the inspiration of that name: "I am the servant of the servants of the servants of Buddha. Who was there ever like Him? — the Lord — who never performed one action for Himself — with a heart that embraced the whole world! So full of pity that He — prince and monk — would give His life to save a little goat! So loving that He sacrificed Himself to the hunger of a tigress! — to the hospitality of a pariah and blessed him l And He came into my room when I was a boy and I fell at His feet! For I knew it was the Lord Himself!" _x000d_ Many times he spoke of Buddha in this fashion, sometimes at Belur and sometimes afterwards. And once he told us the story of Ambapali, the beautiful courtesan who feasted Him, in words that recalled the revolt of Rossetti's great half-sonnet of Mary Magdalene: _x000d_ 0 loose me! Seest thou not my Bridegroom's face,_x000d_ That draws me to Him? For His feet my kiss, _x000d_ My hair, my tears, He craves today: — And oh! _x000d_ What words can tell what other day and place _x000d_ Shall see me clasp those blood-stained feet of His? _x000d_ He needs me, calls me, loves me, let me go

But national feeling did not have it all its own way. For one morning when the chasm seemed to be widest, there was a long talk on Bhakti — the perfect identity with the Beloved that the devotion of Raya Ramananda, the Bengali nobleman who was a contemporary of Chaitanya, so beautifully illustrates: _x000d_ Four eyes met. There were changes in two souls. _x000d_ And now I cannot remember whether he is a man _x000d_ And I a woman, or he a woman and I a man! _x000d_ All I know is, there were two, Love came, and there is one!

It was that same morning that he talked of the Babists of Persia — in their era of martyrdom—of the woman who inspired and the man who worshipped and worked. And doubtless then he expatiated on that theory of his — somewhat quaint and surprising to unaccustomed minds, not so much for the matter of the statement, as for the explicitness of the expression—of the greatness and goodness of the young, who can love without seeking personal expression for their love, and their high potentiality.

Another day coming at sunrise when the snows could be seen, dawn lighted, from the garden, it was Shiva and Uma on whom he dwelt; and that was Shiva, up there, the white snow-peaks, and the light that fell upon Him was the Mother of the World! For a thought on which at this time he was dwelling much was that God is the Universe — not within it, or outside it, and not the universe God or the image of God — but He it, and the All.

Sometimes all through the summer he would sit for hours telling us stories, those cradle-tales of Hinduism, whose function is not at all that of our nursery fictions, but much more, like the man-making myths of the old Hellenic world. Best of all these I thought was the story of Shuka, and we looked on the Shiva-mountains and the bleak scenery of Almora the evening we heard it for the first time.

Shuka, the typical Paramahamsa, refused to be born for fifteen years, because he knew that his birth would mean his mother's death. Then his father appealed to Uma, the Divine Mother. She was perpetually tearing down the veil of Maya before the hidden Saint, and Vyasa pleaded that She should cease this, or his son would never come to birth. Uma consented, for one moment only, and that moment the child was born. He came forth a young man, sixteen years of age, unclothed, and went straight forward, knowing neither his father nor his mother, straight on, followed by Vyasa. Then, coming round a mountain-pass his body melted away from him, because it was not different from the universe, and his father following and crying, "O my son! 0 my son!" was answered only by the echo, "0m! Om! Om!" — among the rocks. Then Shuka resumed his body, and came to his father to get knowledge from him. But Vyasa found that he had none for him, and sent him to Janaka, king of Mithila, the father of Sita, if perchance he might have some to give. Three days he sat outside the royal gates, unheeded, without a change of expression or of look. The fourth day he was suddenly admitted to the king's presence with scat. Still there was no change.

Then as a test, the powerful sage who was the king's prime minister translated himself into a beautiful woman, so beautiful that every one present had to turn away from the sight of her, and none dared speak. But Shuka went up to her and drew her to sit beside him on his mat, while he talked to her of God. _x000d_ Then the minister turned to Janaka saying, "Know, 0 King, if you seek the greatest man on earth, this is he!" _x000d_ "There is little more told of the life of Shuka. He is the ideal Paramahamsa. To him alone amongst men was it given to drink a handful of the waters of that One Undivided Ocean of Sat-Chit-Ananda-Existence, Knowledge, and Bliss Absolute! Most saints die, having heard only the thunder of Its waves upon the shore. A few gain the vision — and still fewer, taste of It. But he drank of the Sea of Bliss!"

Shuka was indeed the Swami's saint. He was the type, to him, of that highest realization to which life and the world are merely play. Long after, we learned how Shri Ramakrishna had spoken of him in his boyhood as, "My Shuka". And never can I forget the look, as of' one gazing far into depths of joy, with which he once stood and quoted the words of Shiva, in praise of the deep spiritual significance of the Bhagavad-Gita, and of the greatness of Shuka — "I know (the real meaning of the teachings of the Bhagavad-Gita), and Shuka knows, and perhaps Vyasa knows — a little!"

Another day in Almora the Swami talked of the great humanizing lives that had arisen in Bengal, at the long inrolling wash of the first wave of modern consciousness on the ancient shores of Hindu culture. Of Rammohun Roy we had already heard from him at Naini Tal. And now of the Pandit Vidyasagar he exclaimed, "There is not a man of my age in Northern India, on whom his shadow has not fallen!" It was a great joy to him to remember that these men and Shri Ramakrishna had all been born within a few miles of each other.

The Swami introduced Vidyasagar to us now as "the hero of widow remarriage, and of the abolition of polygamy". But his favourite story about him was of that day when he went home from the Legislative Council, pondering over the question of whether or not to. adopt English dress on such occasions. Suddenly someone came up to a fat Mogul who was proceeding homewards in a leisurely and pompous fashion, in front of him, with the news, "Sir, your house is on fire!" The Mogul went neither faster nor slower for this information, and presently the messenger contrived to express a discreet astonishment, whereupon his master turned on him angrily. "Wretch!" he said, "Am I to abandon the gait of my ancestors, because a few sticks happen to be burning?" And Vidyasagar' walking behind, determined to stick to the chuddar, dhoti, and sandals, not even adopting coat and slippers.

The picture of Vidyasagar going into retreat for a month for the study of the Shastras, when his mother had suggested to him the remarriage of child-widows, was very forcible. "He came out of his retirement of opinion that they were not against such remarriage, and he obtained the signatures of the pandits that they agreed in this opinion. Then the action of certain native princes led the pandits to abandon their own signatures, so that, had the Government not determined to assist the movement, it could not have been carried — "And now", added the Swami, "the difficulty has an economic rather than a social basis."

We could believe that a man who was able to discredit polygamy by moral force alone, was "intensely spiritual". And it was wonderful indeed to realize the Indian indifference to a formal creed, when we heard how this giant was driven by the famine of 1864 — when 140,000 people died of hunger and disease — to have nothing more to do with God, and become entirely agnostic in thought.

With this man, as one of the educators of Bengal, the Swami coupled the name of David Hare, the old Scotsman and atheist to whom the clergy of Calcutta refused Christian burial. He died of nursing an old pupil through cholera. So his own boys carried his dead body and buried it in a swamp, and made the grave a place of pilgrimage. That place has now become College Square, the educational centre, and has school is now within the University. And to this day, Calcutta students make pilgrimage to the tomb.

He was much amused to hear that such a statement had, been hazarded, and told us with much pride of his only contact with missionary influences, in the person of his old Scotch master, Mr. Hastie. This hot-headed, old man lived on nothing, and regarded his room as his boys' home as much as his own. It was he who had first sent the Swami to Shri Ramakrishna; and, towards the end of his stay in India, he used to say, "Yes, my boy, you were right, you were right! — It is true that all is God!" "I am proud of him!" — cried the Swami, "but I don't think you could say that he had Christianized me much!" It appeared, indeed, that he had only been his pupil for some six months, having attended college so irregularly that the Presidency College refused to send him up for his degree, though he undertook to pass !

We heard charming stories, too, on less serious subjects. There was the lodging-house in an American city, for instance, where he had had to cook his own food, and where he would meet, in the course of operations, "an actress who ate roast turkey every day, and a husband and wife who lived by making ghosts". And when the Swami remonstrated, with the husband, and tried to persuade him to give up deceiving people, saying "You ought not to do this!" the wife would come up behind, and say eagerly, "Yes Sir! That's just what I tell him; for he makes all the ghosts, and Mrs. Williams takes all the money.”

He told us also of a young engineer, an educated man, who, at a spiritualistic gathering, when the fat Mrs. Williams appeared from behind the screen as his thin mother. exclaimed "Mother dear, how you have grown in the spirit-world!"

"At this," said the Swami, "my heart broke, for I thought there could be no hope for the man." But never at a loss, he told the story of a Russian painter, who was ordered to paint the picture of a peasant's dead father, the only description given being, "Man! Don't I tell you he had a wart on his nose?" When at last, therefore, the painter had made a portrait of some stray peasant, and affixed a large wart to the nose, the picture was declared to be ready, and the son was told to come and see it. He stood in front of it, greatly overcome, and said, "Father! Father! How changed you are since I saw you last!" After this, the young engineer would never speak to the Swami again, which showed at least that he could see the point of a story. But at this, the Hindu monk was genuinely astonished….

Plans for a journey to the Himalayas with his Western disciples were already on foot. Mr. and Mrs. Sevier had taken up residence in Almora. After a tour of India, following a sojourn at Simla, they had been asking the Swami to go there. Accordingly, on the evening of May 11, a large party left for Almora.

In the party were Swamis Turiyananda, Niranjanananda, Sadananda, and Swarupa-nanda, Mrs. Bull, Mrs. Patterson, wife of the American Consul-General in Calcutta, Sister Nivedita, and Miss Josephine MacLeod. Mrs. Patterson, it may be mentioned, had befriended the Swami once, during the early days of his preaching in America. She had taken him into her home on hearing with indignation that he had been refused admittance to the hotels of the city because of his colour. Since then she had become the Swami's friend and admirer. When she heard of this proposed journey, she at once joined the party without caring that she might be compromising herself in the eyes of the official world of Calcutta.

The Swami halted there to see his disciple, the Raja of Khetri, then staying in the hills. He was received on arrival by a large gathering of people. They set him on a hill pony and scattered flowers and palms in his path, as was done before Christ when he went into Jerusalem. The Swami enjoyed introducing his Western disciples to the Raja.

Leaving Naini Tal for Almora late in the afternoon on Monday, May 16, the Swami and his party were overtaken by' night on their way through dense forest. On and on they went, following the track down into deep gullies and up again, and round the shoulders of projecting hillsides. They were preceded by torches and lanterns to keep off bears and tigers. Eventually they reached a quaintly-placed dak bungalow under a canopy of great trees. The Swami was all along full of fun, and fascinated by the poetry of the weird "night scenes". Always attentive to the comfort of guests and companions, he saw to their needs and himself supervised the cooking. This last was a favourite pastime of his. The beauty of the scenery enchanted the Western disciples as they made their way along the winding hill paths. On May 17 (according to the Mayavati diary, on May 16), the party reached Almora.

Almora_x000d_ 20th May, 1898_x000d_ {original in Bengali}_x000d_ My Dear Rakhal {Brahmananda},_x000d_ I have got all the news from your letter and have replied to your wire already. Niranjan and Govindalal Shah will wait at Kathgodam for Yogen-Ma. After I reached Naini Tal, Baburam went from here to Naini Tal on horseback against everybody's advice, and while returning, he also accompanied us on horseback. I was far behind as I was in a Dandi. When I reached the dak bungalow at night, I heard that Baburam had again fallen from the horse and had hurt one of his arms--though he had no fractures. Lest I should rebuke him, he stayed in a private lodging house. Because of his fall, Miss MacLeod gave him her Dandi and herself came on the horse. He did not meet me that night. Next day I was making arrangements for a Dandi for him, when I heard that he had already left on foot. Since then I have not heard of him. I have wired to one or two places, but no news. Perhaps he is putting up at some village. Very well! They are experts in increasing one's worries._x000d_ There will be a Dandi for Yogen-Ma; but all the rest will have to go on foot._x000d_ My health is much better, but the dyspepsia has not gone, and again insomnia has set in. It will be very helpful if you can soon send some good Ayurvedic medicine for dyspepsia._x000d_ Since only one or two sporadic cases of plague have occurred there, there is plenty of accommodation in the Government plague hospital, and there is a talk of having hospitals in every Ward. Taking all this into consideration, do what the situation demands. But remember that something said by somebody in Baghbazar does not constitute public opinion. . . . Take care that funds do not run short in times of need and that there is no waste of money. For the present buy a plot of ground for Ramlal in the name of Raghuvir after careful consideration. . . . Holy Mother will be the Sebait (worshipper-in-charge); after her will come Ramlal, and Shibu will succeed them as Sebait; or make any other arrangement that seems best. You can, if you think it right, begin the construction of the building even now. For it is not good to live in a new house for the first one or two months, as it will be damp. . . . The anti-erosion wall can be completed afterwards. I am trying to raise money for the magazine. See that the sum of Rs. 1,200 which I gave for the magazine is kept only for that account._x000d_ All the others are well here. Sadananda sprained his foot yesterday. He says he will be all right by the evening. The climate at Almora is excellent at this time. Moreover the bungalow rented by Sevier is the best in Almora. On the opposite side Annie Besant is staying in a small bungalow with Chakravarty. Chakravarty is now the son-in-law of Gagan (of Ghazipur). One day I went to see him. Annie Besant told me entreatingly that there should be friendship between her organisation and mine all over the world, etc., etc. Today Besant will come here for tea. Our ladies are in a small bungalow near by and are quite happy. Only Miss MacLeod is a little unwell today. Harry Sevier is becoming more and more a Sadhu as the days pass by. . . . Brother Hari sends you his greetings and Sadananda, Ajoy, and Suren send you their respectful salutations. My love to you and all the others._x000d_ Yours affectionately_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ PS. Give my love to Sushil and Kanai and all the others._x000d_ V.

Almora_x000d_ 20th May, 1898_x000d_ Dear Margot {Nivedita},_x000d_ . . . Duty has no end, and the world is extremely selfish._x000d_ Be of good cheer. "Never a worker of good came to grief.". . . _x000d_ Ever yours etc.,_x000d_ Vivekananda

I hope to start a home on the Himalayas somewhere near Almora for my Western friends very soon. I will work between Calcutta and the Himalayas. I am tired of trudging about at any rate, and just want a real rest and repose; would I found it sooner. _x000d_ Don't you work yourself out, dear Christina. Take a long long rest. Duty has no end, and the world is extremely selfish. _x000d_ ... I am so sorry to learn of the death of Mrs. Bagley. She was a good friend....

One of the monks has had a warning this morning that the police are watching the Swami, through spies—of course, we know this in a general way — but this brings it pretty close, and I cannot help attaching some importance to it, though the Swami laughs. The Government must be mad — or at least will prove so if he is interfered with. That would be the torch to carry fire through the country — and I the most loyal Englishwoman that ever breathed in this country ... will be the first to light up. You could not imagine what race-hatred means, living in England. Manliness seems a barrier to nothing — three white women travelling with the Swami and other "natives" — lay themselves and their friends open to horrid insults — mais nous changerons tout cela [but we will change all that].

Though full of fun at times, the Swami often spoke of the torture of life, and would enter into a meditative mood. A strange longing for quiet took hold of him. On Wednesday, May 25, he left the circle of friends and disciples, and retired to Shiyadevi, some distance from Almora. There he was in the silence of the forests for ten hours each day. However, on returning to his tent in the evening, he found a number of people seeking him even there;

But he was radiant, for he had proved to himself that he could be again "the old-time sannyasi, able to go barefoot, and endure heat, cold, and scanty fare, unspoilt by the West". On the following Monday, May 30, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Sevier, the Swami left Almora for a week, partly in search of seclusion, and partly on business, in connection with the possible purchase of an estate for his monastery. But this possibility came to nothing.

To Mr. J. J. Goodwin's mother_x000d_ [On receiving news of the untimely death of Josiah J. Goodwin, Swami Vivekananda sent the following paragraph along with the poem "Requiescat in Pace" to the newspapers as well as to Goodwin's mother.] _x000d_ Almora_x000d_ August 1898_x000d_ With infinite sorrow I learn the sad news of Mr. Goodwin's departure from this life, the more so as it was terribly sudden and therefore prevented all possibilities of my being at his side at the time of death. The debt of gratitude I owe him can never be repaid, and those who think they have been helped by any thought of mine ought to know that almost every word of it was published through the untiring and most unselfish exertions of Mr. Goodwin. In him I have lost a friend true as steel, a disciple of never failing devotion, a worker who knew not what tiring was, and the world is less rich by one of those few who are born, as it were, to live only for others._x000d_ [unsigned]

The Swami had always had a special affection for it, managed as it was by his Madrasi disciples at his behest. He now wished to revive it with the help of Mr. and Mrs. Sevier and Swami Swarupananda. He said to Mr. Sevier: "Sevier, you said you would work for the good of India. The climate of Bengal will not suit you. So why don't you stay somewhere near Almora and undertake to conduct Prabuddha Bharata? The journal has got over three thousand sub-scribers. It was first printed on my advice, and has gradually become a notable instrument for the dissemination of Vedantic knowledge. I don't wish that it should be discontinued. And I am giving you a capable editor. Swami Swarupananda has particular experience in that line, and with the help of yourself and Swami Turiyananda, he will easily be able to run it."

It was agreed that the Prabuddha Bharata office should be transferred from Madras to 'Thomson House", the rented house at Almora where Mr. and Mrs. Sevier. had been staying. The printing-press and materials were brought up from Calcutta, and the first issue from the Almora office was published in August 1898, under the editorship of Swami Swarupananda. Mr.' Sevier acted as manager. He also met all the initial expenses in connection with the purchase and transport of the hand-press, the type, paper, and other things needed.

To return to events following Goodwin's death, the Swami now grew restless, and impatient to be away and alone. He no longer wished to remain where the news of it had reached him, where letters were received and constantly had to be written, with the result that his wound was kept open. It was decided to spend some time in Kashmir.

Speed forth, O Soul! Upon thy star-strewn path;_x000d_ Speed, blissful one! Where thought is ever free,_x000d_ Where time and space no longer mist the view,_x000d_ Eternal peace and blessings be with thee!_x000d_ _x000d_ Thy service true, complete thy sacrifice,_x000d_ Thy home the heart of love transcendent find;_x000d_ Remembrance sweet, that kills all space and time,_x000d_ Like altar roses fill thy place behind!_x000d_ _x000d_ Thy bonds are broke, thy quest in bliss is found,_x000d_ And one with That which comes as Death and Life;_x000d_ Thou helpful one! Unselfish e'er on earth,_x000d_ Ahead! Still help with love this world of strife!

The journey down to the plains, through hills covered with almost tropical forest, was delightful. On the way the Swami pointed out a certain hillside which, so legend had it, was inhabited by a race of centaurs. He himself had once seen a phantom of such kind before ever hearing of the legend.

More and more he felt the need for them, in conjunction with public preaching, monastic centres, and Homes of Service, as means of giving India his Master's teaching and his own message. We have mentioned more than once that he thought of bringing out a daily paper, and had sent J. J. Goodwin to Madras partly for that purpose. The importance that he attached to the publication of journals, and the personal interest he took in it, is evident from his correspondence earlier in 1898. In March he wrote to Swami Ramakrishnananda from the Math, Belur:

The Dawn can manage with 200 subscribers to come out regularly on Rs. 40/- an issue expenditure. This is a great fact to know. The P. B. [Prabuddha Bharata] seems to be very dis-organized; try best to organize it. Poor Alasinga, I am sorry for him. Only thing I can do is to make him entirely free for a year so that he may devote all his energy to Brahmavadin work. Tell him not to worry; I have him always in mind, poor child; his devotion I can never repay….

When he reached Srinagar, he sent, for the first number of the revived magazine, a poem "To the Awakened India", calling on Prabuddha Bharata to resume its march, and to speak its stirring words, "till Truth, and Truth alone, in all its glory shines".

There is only Swami Vivekananda." Aswinibabu said that he did not want Swami Vivekananda, but Paramahamsa Deva's Narendra. This conversation reached the Swami's cars. He sent for the disciple and asked what the matter was. The young monk said, "A gentleman is enquiring about Naren Datta — Paramahamsa's Narendra. I told him that he died long ago, but that he might see Swami Vivekananda." The Swami exclaimed, "Oh what have you done! Just show him in." Aswinibabu was accordingly asked in. He found the Swami seated in an easy chair. On seeing Aswinibabu, the Swami stood up and greeted him cordially. Aswinibabu said, "The Master once asked me to speak to h is1 dear Narendra; but Narendra could not speak with me much on that occasion. Fourteen years have passed by: I meet him again. The Master's words cannot he in vain." The Swami sincerely regretted not having been able to have a long talk with him on the first occasion. This astonished Aswinibabu, for he had scarcely expected that the Swami would remember him and a few minutes' conversation held so long ago.

the Swami interrupted him, saying, "How is that? When did I become a 'Swami' to you? I am still the same Narendra. The name by which the Master used to call me is a priceless treasure. Call me by that name." _x000d_ Aswinibabu: "You have travelled over the world and inspired millions of hearts with spirituality. Can you tell me which way lies India's salvation?" _x000d_ The Swami: "I have nothing more to tell you than what you heard from the Master — that religion is the very essence of our being, that all reforms must come through it to be _x000d_ _x000d_ _x000d_ # _x000d_ acceptable to the masses. To do otherwise is as impracticable as pushing the Ganga back to its source in the Himalayas and making it flow in a new channel." _x000d_ A: "But have you no faith in what [the Indian National] Congress doing?" _x000d_ S: "No, I have not. But, of course, something is better than nothing, and it is good to give the sleeping nation a shove from all sides to wake it up. Can you tell me what Congress has been doing for the masses? Do you think merely passing a few resolutions will bring you freedom? I have no faith in that. The masses must be awakened first. Let them have full meals, and they will work out their own salvation. if Congress does anything for them, it has my sympathy. The virtues of Englishmen should also be assimilated."

A: "Is it any particular creed you mean by 'religion'?"_x000d_ S: "Did the Master preach any particular creed? But he has spoken of the Vedanta as an all-comprehensive and synthetic religion. Therefore I also preach it. But the essence of my religion is strength. The religion that does not infuse strength into the heart, is no religion to me, be it of the Upanishads, the Gita or the Bhagavata. Strength is religion, and nothing is greater than strength." _x000d_ A: "Please tell me what I should do." _x000d_ S: "I understand that you are engaged in some educational work. That is real work. A great power is working in you, and the gift of knowledge is a great one. But see that a man-making education spreads among the masses. The next thing is the building up of character. Make your students' character as strong as a thunderbolt. Of the bones of the Bengali youths shall be made the thunderbolt that shall destroy India's thraldom. Can you give me a few fit boys? A nice shake I can give to the world then.

"And wherever you hear the Radha-Krishna songs going on, use the whip right and left. The whole nation is going to rack and ruin! People with no self-control indulging in such songs! _x000d_ _x000d_ _x000d_ # _x000d_ Even the slightest impurity is a great hindrance to the understanding of these high ideals. Is it a joke? We have long sung and danced: no harm if there is a lull for a time. In the meanwhile let the country wax strong. _x000d_ "And go to the untouchables, the cobblers, the sweepers, and others of their kind, and tell them ' 'You are the Soul of the nation. In you lies infinite energy, which can revolutionize the world. Stand up, shake off your shackles, and the whole world will wonder at you.' Go and found schools among them, and invest them with the 'sacred thread'." _x000d_ Since it was the Swami's breakfast time, Aswinibabu rose to take leave. But before going, he asked the Swami, "Is it true that when the Madras Brahmins called you a Shudra who had no right to preach the Vedas, you said, 'If I am a Shudra, Ye, the Brahmins of Madras are the Pariahs of the Pariahs'?" _x000d_ S: "Yes." _x000d_ A: "Was it becoming of you, a religious teacher and a man of self-control, to retort like that?" _x000d_ S: "Who says so? I never said I was right. The impudence of these people made me lose my temper, and the words came out. What could I do? But I do not justify them." _x000d_ At this, Aswinibabu embraced the Swami and said, "Today you rise higher than ever in my estimation. Now I realize why you are a world-conqueror and why the Master loved you so much!"

He had died of enteric fever on June 2; but the news was not broken to the Swami till the morning of Monday, June 6, when he went early to Mrs. Bull's bungalow.

Now, on returning to Almora on Sunday evening, June 5, the Swami met with two heavy blows: news of the death of Pavhari Baba, whom, as he had once said, he loved "second only to Shri Ramakrishna"; and news of the death of his dear disciple J. J. Goodwin.

Of Pavhari Baba's death, the Swami had learnt directly, by letter. This had been waiting for him on his return to Almora on Sunday June 5. When he met the Western disciples in the evening of that day, which was the day before the news of Goodwin's death was given to him, they saw darkness hanging over his face. He broke his silence by saying, "I have just received a letter that says, 'Pavhari Baba has completed all his sacrifices with the sacrifice of his own body. He has burnt himself in his sacrificial fire.' " Someone asked, "Wasn't that wrong?" The Swami replied, "How can I tell? He was too great a man for me to judge. He knew himself what he was doing."

Our last mention of Mr. Goodwin was of his being with the Swami at Lahore in November 1897, from where he had sent a report of the Swami's activities to the Brahmavadin. As, we know, he had been sent to Madras in July 1897 from Almora with the idea of starting a daily paper in English, and also to help Alasinga with the Brahmavadin work: but destiny had arranged otherwise. His letters tell the story. On September 16, 1897, he wrote to Mrs. Bull. "I have joined the staff of the Mail. They asked me to several times, and as they allow me perfect liberty to make the Swami's work my first interest, and as, also, it will enable me to keep myself here, and help my mother out, I joined. My sister is being married and my mother will join me, as she will not care to remain at home under the new conditions …… On May 5, 1898, he wrote to Miss MacLeod from Garden View, Ootacamund, South India:

When I came to India, I need not say what my feelings were with regard to Swamiji, but I have been here sixteen months, and I have completely come round to your point of view. I will do anything for him [the Swami] personally, but I simply do not care a pin for anything else. If I do any of his work, it will be merely because he wishes it. Partly for this reason, I am for the present really out of the work altogether. I also felt that, recognising as I did that I could do absolutely nothing to help, although I really tried in Madras, it was wrong to remain a burden on him or his, and for that reason I formed [joined] the Mail. . . . I have not seen the Swami since last November.

I realize more and more every day that the Swami is not a Hindu — as Hindus go; because everything must he judged by the sum total, and the sum total of India is meanness. and petty scheming, and not religion....

Rajam lyer was a gifted young man of twenty-six when he died. He was a true Vedantist and an ardent admirer. of the Swami. Following his death in May 1898, the magazine had ceased publication after the June issue.

That morning he was full of Bhakti and of how it must pass through asceticism if it is to be out of the reach of the sweet snares of personality.

"What is this idea of Bhakti without renunciation?" he said. "It is most pernicious!" And standing there for an hour or more, he talked of the awful self-discipline that one must impose on oneself, if one would indeed be unattached, of the requisite nakedness of selfish motives, and of the danger that at any moment the most flowerlike soul might have its petals soiled with the grosser stains of life. He told the story of an Indian nun who was asked when a man could be certain of safety on this road, and who sent back, for answer, a little plate of ashes. For the fight against passion was long and fierce, and at any moment the conqueror might become the conquered.

And as he talked, it seemed that this banner of renunciation was the flag of a great victory, that poverty and self-mastery were the only fit raiment for the soul that would wed the Eternal Bridegroom, and that life was a long opportunity for giving, and the thing not taken away from us was to he mourned as lost....

At the time of hearing the news, he had remarked: "Now my right hand is gone. My loss is incalculable." And as the hours passed, he "complained of the weakness that brought the image of his most faithful disciple constantly to his mind, It was no more manly, he protested, to be thus ridden by one's memory, than to retain the characteristics of the fish or the do . Man must conquer this illusion, and know that the dead are here beside us and with us, as much as ever. It is their absence and separation that are a myth. And then he would break out again with some bitter utterance against the folly of imagining Personal Will to guide the universe. 'As if', he exclaimed, 'it would not be one's right and duty to fight such a God and slay Him, for killing Goodwin! — And Goodwin, if he had lived, could have done so much!' And in India one was free to recognize this as the most religious, because the most unflinchingly truthful, mood of all!"

This was sent to Goodwin's widowed mother, as his memorial of her son, along with a short letter:

Speed forth, 0 Soul! upon thy star-strewn path;_x000d_ Speed, blissful one! where thought is ever free, _x000d_ Where time and space no longer mist the view,_x000d_ Eternal peace and blessings be with thee! _x000d_ _x000d_ Thy service true, complete thy sacrifice, _x000d_ Thy home the heart of love transcendent find; _x000d_ _x000d_ # _x000d_ Remembrance sweet, that kills all space and time, _x000d_ Like altar roses fill they place behind! _x000d_ _x000d_ Thy bonds are broke, thy quest in bliss is found;_x000d_ And one with That which comes as Death and Life;_x000d_ Thou helpful one! unselfish e'er on earth, _x000d_ Ahead! still help with love this world of strife!

The debt of gratitude I owe him can never be repaid, and those who think they have been helped by any thought of mine, ought to know that almost every word of it was published through the untiring and most unselfish exertions of Mr. Goodwin. In him I have lost a friend true as steel, a disciple of never-failing devotion, a worker who knew not what tiring was, and the world is less rich by one of those few who are horn, as it were, to live only for others.

Almora,_x000d_ 9th June, 1898_x000d_ Your Highness {Maharaja of Khetri},_x000d_ Very sorry to learn that you are not in perfect health. Sure you will be in a few days. _x000d_ I am starting for Kashmir on Saturday next. I have your letter of introduction to the Resident, but better still if you kindly drop a line to the Resident telling him that you have already given an introduction to me._x000d_ Will you kindly ask Jagamohan to write to the Dewan of Kishangarh reminding him of his promise to supply me with copies of Nimbarka Bhashya on the Vyasa-Sutras and other Bhashyas (commentaries) through his Pandits._x000d_ With all love and blessings,_x000d_ Yours,_x000d_ Vivekananda_x000d_ PS. Poor Goodwin is dead. Jagamohan knows him well. I want a couple of tiger skins, if I can, to be sent to the Math as presents to two European friends. These seem to be most gratifying presents to Westerners.

It was characteristic of the Swami's mind, and characteristic also of the Hindu culture from which he had sprung, that he could lend himself to the enjoyment and portrayal of an idea one day, that the next would see submitted to a pitiless analysis and left slain upon the field. He was a sharer to the full in the belief of his people that, provided an idea was spiritually true and consistent, it mattered very little about its objective actuality. And this mode of thought had first been suggested to him, in his boyhood, by his own Master. He had mentioned some doubt as to the authenticity of a certain religious history. "What!" said Shri Ramakrishna, "do you not then think those who could conceive such ideas must have been the thing itself?"

The existence of Krishna, then. like that of Christ, he often told us, "in the general way" he doubted. Buddha and Mohammed alone, amongst religious teachers, had been fortunate enough to have “enemies as well as friends”, so that their historical careers were beyond dispute. As for Krishna, he was the most shadowy of all. "A poet, a cowherd, a great ruler, a warrior, and a sage had all perhaps been merged in one beautiful figure, holding the Gita in his hand."

But today, Krishna was "the most perfect. of the Avataras". And a wonderful picture followed, of the charioteer who reined in his horses, while he surveyed the field of battle and in one brief glance noted the disposition of the forces, at the same moment that he commenced to utter to his royal pupil the deep spiritual truths of the Gita.

... And the Swami was fond of a statement ... that the Krishna-worshippers of India had exhausted the possibilities of the romantic motive in lyric poetry.

Almora,_x000d_ 10th June, 1898_x000d_ My dear Friend {Mohammed Sarfaraz Husain},_x000d_ I appreciate your letter very much and am extremely happy to learn that the Lord is silently preparing wonderful things for our motherland._x000d_ Whether we call it Vedantism or any ism, the truth is that Advaitism is the last word of religion and thought and the only position from which one can look upon all religions and sects with love. I believe it is the religion of the future enlightened humanity. The Hindus may get the credit of arriving at it earlier than other races, they being an older race than either the Hebrew or the Arab; yet practical Advaitism, which looks upon and behaves to all mankind as one's own soul, was never developed among the Hindus universally._x000d_ On the other hand, my experience is that if ever any religion approached to this equality in an appreciable manner, it is Islam and Islam alone._x000d_ Therefore I am firmly persuaded that without the help of practical Islam, theories of Vedantism, however fine and wonderful they may be, are entirely valueless to the vast mass of mankind. We want to lead mankind to the place where there is neither the Vedas, nor the Bible, nor the Koran; yet this has to be done by harmonising the Vedas, the Bible and the Koran. Mankind ought to be taught that religions are but the varied expressions of THE RELIGION, which is Oneness, so that each may choose that path that suits him best._x000d_ For our own motherland a junction of the two great systems, Hinduism and Islam--Vedanta brain and Islam body--is the only hope._x000d_ I see in my mind's eye the future perfect India rising out of this chaos and strife, glorious and invincible, with Vedanta brain and Islam body._x000d_ Ever praying that the Lord may make of you a great instrument for the help of mankind, and especially of our poor, poor motherland._x000d_ Yours with love,_x000d_ Vivekananda

Dr. Mahendralal Sarkar had been called in, and had pronounced the disease to be cancer of the throat, leaving the young disciples with many warnings as to its infectious nature. Half an hour later, "Naren", as he then was, came in and found them huddled together, discussing the dangers of the case. He listened to what they had been told, and then, looking down, saw at his feet the cup of gruel that had been partly taken by Shri Ramakrishna and which must have contained in it the germs of the fatal discharges of mucus and pus, as it came out in his baffled attempts to swallow the thing, on account of the stricture of the food-passage in the throat. He picked it up, and drank from it, before them all. Never was the infection of cancer mentioned amongst the disciples again.

On June 11 (1898), therefore, with the women disciples who had come with him from Calcutta, he left Almora for Kashmir. They went as guests of Mrs. Ole Bull.

Before giving the English translation he chanted, in his intense, poetic way, each line in the original. The Rudra-prayer he rendered thus:

From the unreal, lead us to the Real._x000d_ From darkness, lead us unto Light. _x000d_ From death, lead us to Immortality. _x000d_ Reach us through and through our self. _x000d_ And evermore protect us — 0 Thou Terrible! — _x000d_ From ignorance, by Thy sweet compassionate Face. _x000d_ The verses invoking peace and blessing were rendered: _x000d_ The blissful winds are sweet to us. _x000d_ The seas are showering bliss on us. _x000d_ May the corn in our fields bring bliss to us! _x000d_ May the plants and herbs bring bliss to us! _x000d_ May the cattle give us bliss! _x000d_ 0 Father in Heaven, be Thou blissful unto us! _x000d_ The very dust of the earth is full of bliss. _x000d_ It is all bliss, all bliss, all bliss.