The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/XXXII Sister
XXXII
54 W. 33rd Street, N.Y.,
1st February, 1895.
Dear Sister,[1]
I just received your beautiful note.... Well, sometimes it is a good
discipline to be forced to work for work's sake, even to the length of not
being allowed to enjoy the fruits of one's labour.... I am very glad of your
criticisms and am not sorry at all. The other day at Miss Thursby's I had an
excited argument with a Presbyterian gentleman, who, as usual, got very hot,
angry, and abusive. However, I was afterwards severely reprimanded by Mrs.
Bull for this, as such things hinder my work. So, it seems, is your opinion.
I am glad you write about it just now, because I have been giving a good
deal of thought to it. In the first place, I am not at all sorry for these
things — perhaps that may disgust you — it may. I know full well how good it
is for one's worldly prospects to be sweet. I do everything to be sweet, but
when it comes to a horrible compromise with the truth within, then I stop. I
do not believe in humility. I believe in Samadarshitva — same state of mind
with regard to all. The duty of the ordinary man is to obey the commands of
his "God", society; but the children of light never do so. This is an
eternal law. One accommodates himself to surroundings and social opinion and
gets all good things from society, the giver of all good to such. The other
stands alone and draws society up towards him. The accommodating man finds a
path of roses; the non-accommodating, one of thorns. But the worshippers of
"Vox populi" go to annihilation in a moment; the children of truth live for ever.
I will compare truth to a corrosive substance of infinite power. It burns
its way in wherever it falls — in soft substance at once, hard granite
slowly, but it must. What is writ is writ. I am so, so sorry, Sister, that I
cannot make myself sweet and accommodating to every black falsehood. But I
cannot. I have suffered for it all my life. But I cannot. I have essayed and
essayed. But I cannot. At last I have given it up. The Lord is great. He
will not allow me to become a hypocrite. Now let what is in come out. I have
not found a way that will please all, and I cannot but be what I am, true to
my own self. "Youth and beauty vanish, life and wealth vanish, name and fame
vanish, even the mountains crumble into dust. Friendship and love vanish.
Truth alone abides." God of Truth, be Thou alone my guide! I am too old to
change now into milk and honey. Allow me to remain as I am. "Without fear
— without shopkeeping, caring neither for friend nor foe, do thou hold on to
Truth, Sannyâsin, and from this moment give up this world and the next and
all that are to come — their enjoyments and their vanities. Truth, be thou
alone my guide." I have no desire for wealth or name or fame or enjoyments,
Sister — they are dust unto me. I wanted to help my brethren. I have not the
tact to earn money, bless the Lord. What reason is there for me to conform
to the vagaries of the world around me and not obey the voice of Truth
within? The mind is still weak, Sister, it sometimes mechanically clutches
at earthly help. But I am not afraid. Fear is the greatest sin my religion
teaches.
The last fight with the Presbyterian priest and the long fight afterwards
with Mrs. Bull showed me in a clear light what Manu says to the Sannyasin,
"Live alone, walk alone." All friendship, all love, is only limitation.
There never was a friendship, especially of women, which was not exacting. O
great sages! You were right. One cannot serve the God of Truth who leans
upon somebody. Be still, my soul! Be alone! and the Lord is with you. Life
is nothing! Death is a delusion! All this is not, God alone is! Fear not, my
soul! Be alone. Sister, the way is long, the time is short, evening is
approaching. I have to go home soon. I have no time to give my manners a
finish. I cannot find time to deliver my message. You are good, you are so
kind, I will do anything for you; and do not be angry, I see you all are
mere children.
Dream no more! Oh, dream no more, my soul! In one word, I have a message to
give, I have no time to be sweet to the world, and every attempt at
sweetness makes me a hypocrite. I will die a thousand deaths rather than
lead a jelly-fish existence and yield to every requirement of this foolish
world, no matter whether it be my own country or a foreign country. You are
mistaken, utterly mistaken, if you think I have a work, as Mrs. Bull thinks;
I have no work under or beyond the sun. I have a message, and I will give it
after my own fashion. I will neither Hinduise my message, nor Christianise
it, nor make it any "ise" in the world. I will only my-ise it and that is
all. Liberty, Mukti, is all my religion, and everything that tries to curb
it, I will avoid by fight or flight. Pooh! I try to pacify the priests!!
Sister, do not take this amiss. But you are babies and babies must submit to
be taught. You have not yet drunk of that fountain which makes "reason
unreason, mortal immortal, this world a zero, and of man a God". Come out if
you can of this network of foolishness they call this world. Then I will
call you indeed brave and free. If you cannot, cheer those that dare dash
this false God, society, to the ground and trample on its unmitigated
hypocrisy; if you cannot cheer them, pray, be silent, but do not try to drag
them down again into the mire with such false nonsense as compromise and
becoming nice and sweet.
I hate this world, this dream, this horrible nightmare with its churches and
chicaneries, its books and blackguardisms, its fair faces and false hearts,
its howling righteousness on the surface and utter hollowness beneath, and,
above all, its sanctified shopkeeping. What! measure my soul according to
what the bond-slaves of the world say? — Pooh! Sister, you do not know the
Sannyasin. "He stands on the heads of the Vedas!" say the Vedas, because he
is free from churches and sects and religions and prophets and books and all
of that ilk! Missionary or no missionary, let them howl and attack me with
all they can, I take them as Bhartrihari says, "Go thou thy ways, Sannyasin!
Some will say, 'Who is this mad man?' Others, 'Who is this Chandâla?' Others
will know thee to be a sage. Be glad at the prattle of the worldlings." But
when they attack, know that, "The elephant passing through the market-place
is always beset by curs, but he cares not. He goes straight on his own way.
So it is always, when a great soul appears there will be numbers to bark
after him."[2]
I am living with Landsberg at 54 W. 33rd Street. He is a brave and noble
soul, Lord bless him. Sometimes I go to the Guernseys' to sleep.
Lord bless you all ever and ever — and may He lead you quickly out of this
big humbug, the world! May you never be enchanted by this old witch, the
world! May Shankara help you! May Umâ open the door of truth for you and
take away all your delusions!
Yours with love and blessings,
Vivekananda.
- Notes