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Religion and Dharma



Coloured Plates and 22 other Illustrations. Extra 
Crown 8vo, 75. 6d. net. 
Crown 8vo, 25. net. 
Portrait, Prefatory Memoir by S. K. RATCLIFFE, and 
Appreciations from Professor PATRICK GEDDES, 
Professor T. K. CHEYNE, Mr. H. W. NEVINSON, 
and Mr. RABINDRANATH TAGORE. Crown 8vo, 
35. 6d. net. 
from the Life of the Swami Vivekananda. Crown 
8vo, 55. net. 
piece. Crown 8vo, 25. 6d. net. 
FROM an early stage of her life in India Sister Nivedita 
was closely in touch with the student community, 
especially in Bengal where her work lay. She was 
at the call of almost any group, so long as she was 
satisfied that there were sincere seekers among them, 
and her influence spread widely and rapidly, alike 
through her public addresses, which were eagerly 
welcomed, and through the exercise of her personal 
sympathy and counsel. When " The Web of Indian 
Life" was published, in 1904, the enthusiasm of the 
national movement was rising in Young India. Sister 
Nivedita was among the most forceful and devoted of 
its spiritual leaders, and the services of her voice and 
pen were in demand from every side. So far as the 
exacting claims of other work permitted, she yielded 
to requests for newspaper and magazine articles, and 
produced a good deal of occasional writing, besides 
more laborious studies which first appeared in the 
magazines. She gave cordial encouragement to such 
ventures of educational journalism as the Modern 
Review of Calcutta, then as now directed by Mr. 
Ramananda Chatterjee. To the pages of this admir- 
able monthly she contributed the greater part of the 
papers afterwards collected in " Studies from an 
Eastern Home " and practically the whole of those 
in the " Footfalls of Indian History." At the same 
time she was writing, month by month, in the editorial 
columns of the Modern Review a series of notes 
and brief articles suggested chiefly by the ethical and 
religious aspects of the advancing national movement. 
It is from those pieces that the present volume has 
been compiled. 
, None saw more clearly than Sister Nivedita, from the 
beginning, the possibilities and the perils of Indian na- 
i tionalism as then understood and preached. There were 
many, both Indian and European, to insist upon the 
difficulties, or the futility, of the nationalist conception 
and aim ; to argue that it was but one more expression 
of the chaos wrought by the working of the West upon 
the East. The confusion was not to be denied ; but 
Sister Nivedita had no doubt as to the capacity of the 
Indian mind and character to emerge. To her, the 
striking characteristic of the Transition was the speed 
with which, in the nineteenth century, the ancient 
social order of India had adjusted itself to the demands 
of a modern alien civilization. The later steps should 
be not more, but less, difficult since they would be 
conscious and controlled. They must, in Sister 
Nivedita's view, be taken by India itself. There could, 
she held, be no question as to the power of the Indian 
consciousness to absorb the contribution of the West 
and to transmute it ; and the way to that she saw 
through an exchange of organic ideals between East 
and West For India it would mean a renascence 
of Dharma : in other words, a re-interpretation in 
modern terms of the faith and practice of the past ; a 
fresh relation of the contemplative to the active life ; 
a new conception of worship and of sacrifice to the 
ideal ; the monastic ideal expressed in social service ; 
the recovery of the civic sense, and its re-establishment 
in a fuller understanding of the Indian social order ; the 
exaltation of work, of positive character, and of know- 
ledge, in which alone could He the mastery of the future. 
Such is the theme of these papers. In fairness to 
the memory of the author, and for their right under- 
standing, they should be read with a recollection of 
the circumstances amidst which they were thrown off 
with great rapidity in the midst of a crowded and 
arduous life of service in India. The reader will not 
fail to remark, as an illustration of the completeness 
with which Sister Nivedita identified herself with India 
and its spirit, her constant use of " we" and "ours". 
Some readers may wonder at the implied antithesis 
in the title between an English and a Sanskrit word 
which are frequently taken to be practically identical 
in meaning. Dharma, however, is a word that to the 
Hindu has a larger and more complex significance than 
that of Religion as commonly used among us. It in- 
cludes the whole social conception of law and conduct 
and worship. Dharma is the force or principle that 
binds together ; the union of traditional thought and 
faith, of common custom, loyalty, and understanding, 
that makes of society an organic or religious unity. 
" This patience, this steadfastness, this sincerity/' 
Sister Nivedita wrote, " is Dharma the substance, the 
self-ness, of things and of men." l She preferred to 
translate the word as the National Righteousness, 
and on the whole perhaps that is as close to an 
equivalent term in English as we may hope to achieve. 
Viscount Haldane, in the address delivered before 
the American Bar Association in IQI3, 2 has some 
remarks on the principle of Higher Nationality which 
bear upon the matter. Law, in the greater sense, he 
said, imports something more than the code of rules 
laid down by the State ; it has a relation to the ob- 
ligations of conscience and the General Will of Society. 
The field of individual conduct is covered, in the case 
of the citizen, only to a small extent by legality on the 
one hand and the dictates of the individual conscience 
on the other. " There is a more extensive system of 
guidance which regulates conduct and which differs 
from both in its character and sanction." Lord 
Haldane continues : 
In the English language we have no name for it, and this is 
unfortunate, for the lack of a distinctive name has occasioned 
1 P. 51. 2 " Higher Nationality," London : John Murray, 1913. 
confusion both of thought and of expression. German writers 
have, however, marked out the system to which I refer and have 
given it the name of Sittlichkeit. . . . Sittlichkeit is the system 
of habitual customary conduct, ethical rather than legal, which 
embraces all those obligations of the citizen which it is " bad 
form " or " not the thing " to disregard. 
Sitte is the German for custom, and Sittlichkeit implies 
custom and a habit of mind and action ; let us say, 
the blend of social morality and social sanction em- 
bodying the ideal of the conduct of people towards 
each other and towards the community to which they 
Without such conduct and the restraints which it imposes 
there could be no tolerable social life, and real freedom from in- 
terference would not be enjoyed. It is the instinctive sense of 
what to do and what not to do in daily life and behaviour that is 
the source of liberty and ease. And it is this instinctive sense 
of obligation that is the chief foundation of society. Its reality 
takes objective shape and displays itself in family life and in our 
other civic and social institutions. It is not limited to any one 
form, and it is capable of manifesting itself in new forms and of 
developing and changing old forms. Indeed the civic community 
is more than a political fabric. It includes all the social institu- 
tions in and by which the individual life is influenced such as 
are the family, the school, the church, the legislature, and the 
executive. None of these can subsist in isolation from the rest ; 
together they and other institutions of the kind form a single 
organic whole, the whole which is known as the Nation. 1 
Sister Nivedita would have accepted every word 
of this exposition as covering a great part of the life 
of citizenship. And she would have added, with 
truth, that Dharma is a finer and more satisfying word 
for the living principle of conduct and society finer 
and more satisfying in the measure of the infinitely 
more rich and profound conception which the Indian 
has of religion than the conception reached by the 
people from whom Lord Haldane borrowed his word. 
S. K. R. 
LONDON, August, 1915. 
1 " Higher Nationality," p. 23. 
PREFACE (by S. K. Ratcliffe) v 
WORK 92 
THE BEE AND THE LOTUS ........ 102 
THE IDEAL. . 150 
EVERY religion centres round some particular idea : 
Ancient Egypt round death ; Persia round the mystery 
of Good and Evil ; Christianity round the redeeming 
love of a divine Incarnation. Only Hinduism aims at 
the heights of Vairagyam and Mukti, and at nothing 
secular. This is indeed the weak point of Hinduism. 
The quality by which Hinduism has it in her power 
to make up for this defect of her greatness, is her ca- 
pacity for synthetizing every religious idea with which 
she comes in contact. The absorptive power of Hindu- 
ism as a religion, coupled with its resistant power as a 
civilization, furnishes one of the most startling para- 
doxes in the history of man. Derived originally from 
a veritable network of religions, in which the co-or- 
dinating element was the philosophy now known as 
Vedarita, it has thrown out reforming sects in the 
Mohammedan period, and thrown out reforming sects 
in the Christian period, each of these being in fact the 
expression of its admiration for the new ideal of which 
it has caught a glimpse. 
To-day, however, Hindus see that the greatest call 
upon the religious instincts of the country lies in the 
need of assimilating whole new areas of life. We 
must make possible the " short views " of the Chris- 
tians. There must be some religious teaching and 
encouragement for those who only want heaven, not 
Mukti. There must be a recognition of righteousness, 
as well as of holiness. Righteousness lies in duty 
done : holiness requires renunciation. A thousand 
good citizens are necessary, as the background of one 
great sannyasin. There must then be a philosophy of 
citizenship, as well as of Sannyas. 
And in truth the exaltation of one thing does not 
demand the decrying of its fellow. The ideal is always 
infinite, always divine. A highly moralized society 
produces the greatest saints. The purity of fathers 
and mothers makes possible the birth of Avatars. 
Where marriage is faithfully kept, there sincere San- 
nyas is possible, not amongst profligates and riotous 
livers. Similarly, the presence of honourable citizens 
is necessary to the maintenance of a grand religious 
ideal, and the citizen is as necessary to its manifesta- 
tion as the monk. 
But if this is so, we have to search our ancient 
scriptures with a new aim. We must seek for all that 
can support and encourage us in doing manfully the 
work of this present world. Renunciation can be 
achieved through duty quite as well as by the abandon- 
ment of duty. We have thousands of texts to tell us 
so, but the prevailing preconception in favour of San- 
nyas has led to our ignoring all that favours Dharma. 
, The weak point of European society lies in the ab- 
: sence of the monastic ideal. True. But equally sure 
is it that the weak point of Hinduism is the want of 
\emphasis on the ideal of the householder and the 
citizen. The reason lies largely in the fact that 

when our texts were formulated our society was as

rich in virtue as in material resources. When the last 
of these deserts us, it is difficult to prevent the decay 
of the former ; and what is wanted to-day is a de- 
liberate recapture of both. 
For this, we must exalt work. We must look upon 
the world as a school, in which it is worth while to 
strive for promotion from class to class. We must set 
our shoulder to the wheel and struggle unceasingly to 
attain the end we have set before ourselves. Our 
philosophy tells us that absolute progress is impossible 
in the things of this life. But relative progress is fully 
possible ; and while we move on this plane of relativ- 
ity, we must work as if perfection would reward the 
very next step. 
Let us set before ourselves the master-ideals, even in 
things relative. " I do not make good screws, sir, I 
make the best that can be made," said an indignant 
workman in reply to too casual an inquiry. This 
ought to be our attitude. We must make the best 
screws that can possibly be made. In every direction 
it must be the same. The best not too good, the 
highest not too difficult, for us to attain. Nothing less 
than the utmost. Nothing easy. Nothing cheap. 
The same energy that might have made an ascetic 
will also make a workman, if that will better serve the 
Mother's purpose. 
And let our ideals be higher for our friends also. 
Let no man consort with mean company. Monk or 
citizen, let a man be noble. Whether Brahman or 
pariah, let him practise self-respect, and demand the 
like from others. We help no one by being so pas- 
sive as to convert him into a brute ! 
In the school, the lessons are graduated, but all 
alike are EDUCATION. All are equally the concern of 
the school-authorities. Even so with our civilization. 
The integrity of the man of business is to the full as 
acceptable an offering as the renunciation of the monk, 
for unless there be honest men of the world, the religi- 
ous orders must come to an end. 
Thus Hinduism, fully recognizing the need of the 
practical and secular life, and drawing from within 
herself the stores that are necessary for its develop- 
ment and growth, synthetizes once more ideals that 
seemed opposite. The super-social life is seen in its 
true relation to society. The goal is preached as at- 
tainable, not only by the sadhu in the forest, but also 
by the butcher in the town and the wife in the home. 
OF all the questions that a wakeful and fresh intellect 
will constantly ask, there is none, perhaps, more sure 
to recur than, What is Freedom ? Many of us are 
born struggling for actual freedom, for our own free- 
dom. All of us are born to struggle for something. 
Nothing more terrible could be imagined than a human 
being put into circumstances so artificial that all mo- 
tive for struggle was eliminated, and he was deprived 
of the natural human right of something to desire and 
strive for. We can imagine a man in prison for life 
realizing such hopelessness, though, if so, it must be 
because his whole conception of activity is social or 
muscular, and therefore can be thwarted. Or a cage 
made of riches, or rank, such a cage as that of royal 
birth, for instance, might produce this effect on a 
nature too good to lose itself in fleshly delights, and 
too stupid to find paths of self-development. But if 
so, the man who never struggled would grow up an 
idiot. That at least is certain. All our vivacity, all 
our intelligence, is developed by struggle. Only 
shapeless incapacity could result from its lack. 
It has been said that the great may be distinguished 
from the little by whether or not they are struggling 
for freedom. This may be true. For there is no 
doubt that we may struggle for, and even realize, a 
thing which we could not possibly define intellectually. 
Most of us win our own freedom in this thing and that 
thing, and thus gradually build up a more or less per- 
fect freedom. Many struggle for freedom under the 
name of the Right. " God and my Right " Dieu et 
mon droit is a formula that refers to some such con- 
test of the soul. It is only Hinduism that has been 
subtle enough to recognize that beyond the thing it- 
self which seems to be the object of our strife, the real 
thirst of the soul is for freedom and that this freedom 
is the essential condition of self-development. The 
man who is free, says Dharma, is the only man who is 
himself. The man who is really and fully himself is 
free free in all directions, free of all bonds. 
One essential characteristic of freedom is that it 
has always to be realized in opposition to something. 
The struggle of every individuality whether a simple 
or a compound is to define itself, by attaining self- 
direction, by repudiating the control of its fellow-or- 
ganisms. Freedom from the pressure of his social 
surroundings is an absolute necessity of manly men. 
The manly man may choose to act precisely as his 
society would desire, but he must believe that he does 
this because he himself chooses, and not because society 
compels. And yet any great anxiety on this point is 
crude enough, since manly men are too accustomed to 
their own freedom, and their own power of defending 
their freedom, to be uneasy about it, or suspicious of 
invasions upon it. It is only a child, who has never 
yet felt himself grown-up, who finds it necessary to re- 
fuse whatever is asked of him, in order that he may 
hug to himself his own liberty of refusal. And here 
we note the vanity, the selfishness, the pre-occupation 
with self, and indifference to the needs of others, that 
make such natures, at such a stage, unfit for high and 
arduous forms of co-operation. The really great 
are born with such assurance of their own freedom to 
withhold, that they are full of eagerness to give, and 
welcome every opportunity of serving as a privilege. 
Such natures we see every day. Unselfishness is not 
rare amongst human beings. On the contrary, it is the 
mortar that joins the bricks of the whole edifice. 
Society, then, is one of the forces against which the 
individual has to realize his own freedom one of the 
powers from which he has to wrest it. But the question 
again occurs, what is that freedom for which the indi- 
vidual is struggling? And here arises one of the supreme 
fallacies. Some take it that freedom is identified with 
slavery to their own impulses. This is the freedom 
that makes drunkards, gluttons, and libertines. 
At first, all our activity, all our development of 
faculty, depends upon desire : afterwards, desire is seen 
as a form of disease, of which we must be cured ! Is 
this the truth ? The momentum of desire, that impels 
us to yield inevitably to our own caprices, is not 
freedom. It is the last and subtlest form of bondage, 
the more dangerous and deadly for the fact that we 
are liable to mistake its nature. Liberty to realize 
what is our own will may be an essential condition of 
freedom, but until we are as free from that will, and 
the desires suggested by that body and mind, as from 
those of all the other hundreds of millions of human 
beings, we do not know what real freedom is. 
How large, how calm, how full of exquisite joy and 
graciousness, never dimmed, is the heritage of life that 
awaits the individual in those elysian fields of the soul, 
where this freedom has been won ! It may be mani- 
fested in any way, by any means. For only the free 
can apprehend what freedom is. Only the free can de- 
termine how freedom shall be shown. Only the actions 
of the free are potent, unhampered by feebleness of their 
own or aggression of others free ! free ! Freedom is 
indeed the supreme good of the soul. So far from being 
"a night in which all cows are black," it is, as every 
Hindu knows, the perfect access of daylight, neither too 
much nor too little, into every nook and cranny of our 
universe. But even so, when we seek to define it, we 
are met by an eternal impossibility, and can only 
ejaculate " Neti ! neti ! Not this ! Not this ! " 
The soldier has to learn that obedience is his form 
of prayer. To be doing ja^am when one ought to be 
resting, and consequently to be sleepy when one ought 
to be at work, is not a meritorious condition. No 
punya that way ! The sunny-heartedness of the child, 
on the other hand, ready to forget all about its mother, 
if its mother tells it to run away and play, is true 
bhakti^ and better than many prandms. 
Manliness may often prove to be the whole of piety ! 
Some races have practised such virtue out of sheer in- 
stinct, but never before was a survey of life so com- 
prehensive, so far-reaching, added to the treasury 
of authoritative pronouncements on religious truth. 
This manliness-which-is-righteousness involves, it will 
be noticed, a kind of Mukti y for the manly man has no 
time to be conscious of his own manliness. Heroism 
in great moments is the natural blossom of a life that 
in its little moments is fine and fearless. 
So far from remaining unchanged, a religion that is 
alive must be always growing. Only the dead can be 
petrified in rigid forms. The living must be con- 
stantly assimilating new forces, new materials, respond- 
ing in fresh ways to unprecedented stimuli, tending 
in some degree to remake the very environment that 
is re-moulding itself. 
Even of the Sanathan Dharma this is true. Hin- 
duism would not be eternal, were it not constantly 
growing and spreading, and taking in new areas of ex- 
perience. Precisely because it has this power of self- 
addition and re-adaptation, in greater degree than any 
other religion that the world has ever seen, we be- 
lieve it to be the one immortal faith, the great tree- 
stem, bearing on itself, as outlying branches, all the 
more fugitive creeds of the world. 
It is necessary, however, to know in what direction 
to look for changes, if we would be intelligent about re- 
cognizing these when they come. Like Roman Cathol- 
icism, Hinduism has gone on for the last twelve hundred 
years developing more and more into a religion of 
segregation, the culture of the soul, a secret between 
the worshipper and the priest, or the soul and God. 
Undoubtedly it has been true, in this respect, to the 
ultimate message of all religions. The emancipation 
of the soul Spiritual Individualism, as the Swami 
Vivekananda called it is the main business of or- 
ganized creeds. A few social benedictions are a mere 
But religion has also a communistic side. It lifts 
the soul to God, but it also binds together man and 
man. If we are the children of the Mother, we must 
for that very reason be brothers of one another. A 
specialization in one direction requires to be corrected 
by a compensating development in the other. More 
souls will now be emancipated by attention paid to 
the democratic or communistic side of worship. 
For this, there will have to be common prayer. 
And common prayer itself must be organized. That 
is to say, there must be services in which responses 
are required from several worshippers at once, and 
these responses should be in the vernacular. When 
slokas are recited by a great number all together, it 
will be found desirable to divide these into two sections, 
and let them repeat the texts in antiphon. 
The religious uses of the procession must be restored. 
We cannot doubt when we study Buddhism, which 
was, of course, only a version of an older Hinduism, 
that the procession, with banners, shanks, drums, in- 
cense, and holy water, was a great feature in old 
Indian worship. A few of its most beautiful uses still 
remain, as when seven women carry torches round the 
bridegroom, or the sons encircle the dead father with 
There ought now to be an anxious scrutinizing of 
these old ritual observances, and of the whole subject 
of ritual in general. Many of our own most lovely 
rites are still practised in Europe, though lost to us. 
We must restore the greater meanings of our Hindu 
ceremonies. Worship is in the future to have a place 
for the people, as well as for the priest. There is to 
be co-operation and self-organization, even in the 
praising of God. 
WE have heard much, lately, more or less sincere, 
about the Crown of Hinduism. But how many Hindus 
have themselves any idea of what is in fact the crown 
of their faith ? If it really deserves all the good things 
said of it, it will not succumb, we may be sure, to the 
attacks of a foreign religion. The fact that such a 
fate can be foretold for it, with smiles, ought to be an 
indication to us of how much is meant by an empty 
compliment. The fact is, foreigners with all their 
perspicacity, cannot easily or actually distinguish be- 
tween our religion and our social system, bound up as 
that is with a network of semi-religious sanctions. But 
our whole social system might conceivably disappear 
without in any degree affecting the most distinctive and 
important of our religious ideas. They are indeed as 
applicable to the West as to the East. Perhaps the 
real crown of Hinduism lies in the fact that it, almost 
alone amongst formulated faiths, has a section devoted 
to absolute and universal truths, and has no fear what- 
ever of discriminating between these and such ac- 
cidental expressions as might be confounded by the 
superficial with their belief itself. 
In spite of its seemingly vast mythology, the actual 
content of Hinduism is infinitely less dependent on 
mythological ideas than any other religion whatsoever. 
He who is driven to abandon the historicity of Western 
beliefs has but sorry ground henceforth to stand upon. 
Not so the Hindu. There is no shade of the search 
after truth that is not looked upon here as religious 
heroism. We are in no danger of persecuting a man 
for no better reason than that he can see farther and 
deeper than we ! Giordano Bruno would never have 
been burnt, Galileo would never have been put to the 
torture, if India had been their home and birthplace. 
The Sanathan Dharma sanctions and endorses every 
form of honest striving after knowledge. It is jealous 
and suspicious of no form of truth. Perhaps in this 
lies the true crown of Hinduism. 
Ours is the religion of a people who have never re- 
lapsed into barbarism, and have never had any quarrel 
with education. We do not distinguish between the 
sacredness of different forms of truth. Truth is truth. 
We are not really so seriously incommoded by our 
mythology as those are who call us idolatrous by 
theirs. We must be true to what we believe. All 
knowledge is sacred. In the trust that has been 
snatched from the abyss, it is not for us to say what 
is more and what less binding. Mathematics is also 
God's. Men of science are also rishis. 
We can afford to laugh at our foreign friends, in the 
fashions that sweep across their religious horizon. 
God really exists, the Westerns are inclined to believe, 
because a leading scientific man says so. This is mere 
childishness. Do they expect others to accept a reli- 
gion whose own sons do it so little justice as this ? To 
the Hindu, religion is experience or nothing. If science 
is also experience, he does not feel it incumbent upon 
him to deny either of two things, both of which he 
knows to be true. Is God in his keeping? Does the 
universe depend upon his immediate understanding of 
it ? If he were a criminal judge he might have to ex- 
ercise more humility and patience than this ! 
Hinduism never tends to make men contented to 
read or to believe. To have a right to talk, a man 
must first realize. No counterfeit coin will be accepted 
for this. We know the difference at sound between 
the spurious and the real. We can tell who speaks 
with authority and who as the scribes. Our faith rests 
from first to last on a basis of experience, of realiza- 
tion, of personal appropriation. Without this, a mere 
lip-adhesion is of no consequence in our eyes. Let it 
come, let it go. It does not count. Were the whole 
of our system of scaffolding to be swept away to- 
morrow, we should be able to reconstruct it all again : 
nay, we should be compelled to do so, out of the very 
wants of the human heart. 
Let those who are disposed to wail by the river- 
side, shedding false tears over our approaching ex- 
tinction, take heed lest it be not their own superstitions 
that are at the point of death instead of ours ! Hin- 
duism is not going to die because her sons have learnt 
to drink a cup of morning tea, forsooth ! Caste, and 
occupation, and mode of living, and forms of culture 
might all disappear, and Hinduism remain intact as 
ever. In fact, is not something of the kind to be 
expected in the speedy spread of Hinduistic ideas to 
Christian lands ? Our religion is fully compatible 
with any of the higher forms of civilization. But it 
will never die out of the land of its birth. If anything 
were needed to make this more certain, it would be 
just such ill-considered and premature exultation as 
that to which we have been alluding. Do we not 
know that with the passing of characteristic faiths 
comes the death of nations ? Are we fools, that we 
should not know the meaning of the tale of con- 
temporary civilizations in Ancient Egypt, and in 
Babylon, dead beyond power to revive, because they 
parted with their ancestral trust of thought ? India 
shall not do this ! Rather shall she go out into all 
the world, and see the inadequacy of more childish 
faiths met out of her own brimming store. Rather 
shall she become the Guru and instructor of all others, 
and learn to measure the greatness of her own thinkers 
by the littleness and shallowness of those who oppose 
them. Rather shall her pride and confidence in this her 
own treasure wax greater day by day. Smiling serenely, 
she will pass over her flatterers, her hypocritical sympa- 
thisers and her well-intentioned but foolish children 
easily elated by meaningless words, and let her own 
glance rest, in calm and content, on a future not far 
distant when the positions shall be reversed. 
That such a time is coming, nay, that it is close at 
hand, we should be strangely disloyal to our Mother- 
Church to doubt. We should be strangely incompe- 
tent readers of her past triumphs, if we could not see. 
Not the churches of the world alone, but the very 
universities of Europe, will yet do homage before the 
names of Indian thinkers, who, living in the shelter of 
forest-trees, and clad in birch-bark or in loin-cloths, 
have formulated truths more penetrating and more 
comprehensive than any of which Europe herself 

childishly bent on material comfort ever dreamed.

HINDUISM is one of the finest and most coherent 
growths in the world. Its disadvantages arise out of 
the fact that it is a growth, not an organization ; a 
tree, not a machine. In an age in which the whole 
world worships the machine, for its exactness, its 
calculableness, and its dirigibility, this fact, while 
it makes for a greater permanence, also involves 
a certain number of desiderata. The fruits of the 
tree of Hinduism are of an excellence unparalleled ; 
but it is not easy to reach by its means those benefits 
that do not occur spontaneously, ends that have to be 
foreseen and deliberately planned and arranged for. 
For instance, alone amongst the world's faiths perhaps, 
ours has no quarrel of any sort with truth. Under 
its sway, the scientific mind is absolutely free to 
pursue to the uttermost its researches into the Infinite 
Nescience of things, the philosopher is encouraged to 
elucidate his conclusions, and simple piety does not 
dream of passing judgment on things admittedly too 
high for it. All this is true of Hinduism. At the 
same time, what has it done to grasp the highest 
scientific education for its children, or to impel its 
people forward upon the pursuit of mastery in learn- 
ing or in ministering to social service ? 
There is nothing in Hinduism to forbid an attempt 
on our part to compass these things, and the only 
thing that could drive us to make the effort, namely 
a vigilant and energetic sense of affairs, a public spirit 
that took account of things as a whole, was un- 
doubtedly indicated by the Swami Vivekananda, as 
part of what he meant by Aggressive Hinduism. 
We ought to make our faith aggressive, not only 
internationally, by sending out missionaries, but also 
socially, by self-improvement ; not only doctrinally, 
by accepting converts, but also spiritually, by intensify- 
ing its activity. What we need is to supplement 
religion by public spirit, an enlightened self-sense in 
which every member of the community has a part. 
Class-preference is obsolete in matters of education. 
The career of the intellect is now for him who has the 
talent. By us, this principle has to be boldly and 
enthusiastically accepted. Even as the school is open 
to all, so must every form of social ministration be 
made. The college, the orphanage, the hospital, the 
women's refuge, these must be opened by such as have 
the devotion and energy for the task, and nothing 
must be said of the birth of the servant of humanity. 
By virtue of his consecration, he becomes a saint, even 
as, by his jnanam, the philosopher makes himself a 
Activity is eased and heightened if it is socialized : 
that is to say, if it is the work of a body, espousing a 
common conviction, and not of a solitary individual, 
wandering the world, and divided between his idea 
itself and the question of its support. This common 
conviction, driving into work, is the reason why small 
religious sects are so often the source of vast move- 
ments of human amelioration. Many of these out- 
standing problems of Hinduism have been attacked, 
for instance, by the Brahmo Samaj, with considerable 
success. The little church forms a background and 
home for the worker. It sends him out to his task, 
rejoices over his success, and welcomes him back with 
laurels, or with ministration, when he turns home 
to die. Without some such city of the heart, it is 
difficult to see how the worker is to keep up his 
energy and courage. The praise and pleasure of our 
own little group of beloved ones is very sweet to all of 
us, and quite properly spurs us on to surmount many 
an obstacle that we should not otherwise attempt. 
Let the soul grow, by saying " not this ! not this ! " to 
what height it will ; but let it have the occasion for 
practising this discrimination. 
We must take up our problems, then, as social 
groups. Let no man enter on the apostolate that 
is to shake the world, alone. Everything done, every 
discovery made, even every poem written, and every 
dream dreamed, is a social achievement. Society has 
contributed to it, and will receive its benefits. Let 
the missionary, then, on whom the effort seems to rest, 
not reckon himself to be the chief actor. There must 
be some two or three, knit together by some well- 
wrought bond, in every undertaking that is to benefit 
humanity. Perhaps they were comrades at school and 
college. Perhaps they are disciples of a single master. 
Possibly they belong to the same village. Maybe 
they are fellow-workmen in some common employment. 
Whatever be the shaping force, there must be as- 
sociation of aim and co-operation of effort, if there is 
to be success, and there must be a strong bond of love 
amongst those few ardent souls who form the central 
Voluntary association, the desire of a body to take 
on corporate individuality, is thus the point of de- 
parture within Hinduism for civic activity. But we 
must not forget how much every activity owes to the 
general movement of society around it. Work must 
be done by the few as the servants, not as the enemies, 
of the many. Every single movement needs other 
counter-movements to supplement it, if it is to main- 
tain itself in vigour. Thus, the difficulty about technical 
education in India is not want of funds, which have 
been poured in in abundance ; but want of general 
industrial development, in the society around. There 
is a fixed ratio between education and development 
which cannot be passed, hence only by definite and 
alternating increments to the one and to the other 
can progress take place. Again, there is a fixed pro- 
portion between the total of these and the community's 
need of the highest scientific research, which cannot 
be contravened. And all these alike must find them- 
selves inhering in an inclusive social energy, which 
takes account of its own needs, its own problems and 
its own organs. The vivifying of this general social 
sense is the first of all our problems. We have to 
awaken it, to refresh it, and to keep it constantly 
informed. What this social sense has now first and 
foremost to realize, is our want of education, the need 
of a real ploughing of the mind. For this, high and 
low, we ought to be content to starve and slave and 
bear the utmost pinch of poverty. And not for our 
own sons alone. This is a matter in which the interest 
of all should be the interest of each one, the necessity 
of one the interest of all. We have to energize our 
culture. We have to learn to think of things in their 
wholeness, and to see them from new points of view. 
We have to possess ourselves of all that is known 
by humanity, not to continue in contentment with a 
mere corner of its knowledge, well fenced off. Are 
we mentally capable of science, of sanity, of com- 
prehensiveness? If so, we have now to prove our 
And where shall we find the starting-point for this 
new assault on the citadel of our own ignorance 1 ? Let 
us find it boldly amongst religious forces. In Buddhist 
countries, the monastery is the centre round which are 
grouped schools, libraries, museums, and efforts at 
technical education. Why should we not, in our South- 
ern cities expect the temple, similarly, to take the lead, 
in the fostering of the new and higher education ? 
Why should we dread the Brahman's tendency to ex- 
clusiveness and reaction ? If it be really true that we 
are capable of sanity, is the Brahman to remain an ex- 
ception to that sanity? Let us expect of our own 
country and of our own people, the highest and noblest 
and most progressive outlook that any people in the 
world might take. And in doing this, let us look to 
become Hindus, in a true sense, for the first time. For 
it is a question whether so grand a word ought to be 
borne by us unless we have first earned and approved 
our right to it. Ought not the name of our country 
and our faith to be to us as a sort of order of merit, a 
guerdon of loyal love, the token of accepted toil ? 
BOTH Hindus and Mohammedans have great need 
amongst themselves of such work as has been done 
amongstiChristians, during the past century, by mutual 
association. No one would suggest that such forms of 
association should be deliberately imitated by Orientals 
amongst themselves. But a very different matter is 
the apprehension of the idea that is represented by the 
institution, and its re-expression in some other form. 
The impact of Western life and thought has shattered 
many of our own most precious methods of self-or- 
ganization. The old village-community, with its co- 
herence, its moral order, its sense of purpose, and its 
openness to the highest thought and sacrifice, has 
gone, and in its place we have the heap of disconnected 
fragments that goes in modern times by the name of a 
Even the city, of the mediaeval poch, had its own 
way of fulfilling the purposes of modern voluntary as- 
sociations. The newcomer to Benares or Allahabad 
found himself immediately in his own quarter, sur- 
rounded by men from his own part of India, directly 
or indirectly connected with himself. In the outer ap- 
partments of their homes he met with friends, received 
assistance and advice, and was able to avail himself of 
local culture. This para of his own countrymen was 


to all intents and purposes his club, his home, his 
hospital. And it served all these ends far better than 
any modern society of the cities can possibly do. It 
was here that there grew up the organized communal 
opinion that resulted sooner or later in the extension 
of scope in required directions. For the communal or- 
ganization in all provinces was generous, and free, and 
debonair, full of comradeship, rising in its richer 
members into princely liberality. It is the continuity 
of our social environment, moreover, that keeps us all 
on our own highest level in character and conduct. 
And this continuity was admirably provided for in the 
old city paras. The youth who came from the south 
in those days, was not open to the same temptations as 
now, from the dissipations of the city. And this for 
the good reason that the elders about him were men of 
his own district. The news of any lapses from decorum 
would assuredly travel back to the old people at home, 
and in the village of his birth his family would hang 
their heads for shame of him. It is not easy to esti- 
mate the moral restraint imposed by this series of 
While we remember this, however, we cannot fail to 
consider the contrast presented by modern develop- 
ments. Let us think, for instance, of the crowds of 
poor Mohammedans who find their way into a city like 
Calcutta, chiefly perhaps from Patna and Behar, to 
act as syces and coachmen. The temptations of this 
particular life are notorious in all countries. Liquor- 
shops are banefully on the increase. The custom of 
congregating in one's own quarter is on the wane. 
Can it be wondered at that the life of the city proves 
utterly destructive to the happiness of many a simple 
country home? 
And yet, though all this is but too true, we must 
not speak as if any people in the world could compare 
with our own people even here. Very often the poor 
man whose hold on life is so sadly impaired by the 
foreignness of his environment, is nevertheless strug- 
gling to live on one meal a day and send half of his 
tiny wages to his home. No one will ever know the 
whole history of the self-sacrifice of Indian servants 
in these days. The commonest of our countrymen are 
able to practise a control of hunger that in any other 
land would canonize them as martyrs. 
We, and especially the student classes, who live in 
cities, would do well to consider the social problems 
that surround us. What can we do for the People? 
How can we strengthen the People to recover them- 
selves ? We are not called upon to create new forces 
of restitution. These, in abundance, are our heritage 
from our forefathers. But we are called upon to con- 
serve, to use, to develop, and re-adjust to modern needs, 
the treasure of moral impulses and moralizing and co- 
ordinating institutions that is ours. 
Let each of us ask himself, Where are the Sudras who 
have come from his father's village ? Does one not 
know ? Then how sadly one has failed in the duty of 
solidarity ! Could one do anything to help them ? 
Anything to share with them one's own privileges ? 
One never knows, till one has tried, how many and how 
great those privileges are. What a revolution would 
be effected, and how quickly, in Indian ideas, if every 
student in the land took a vow each year to give twelve 
lessons to some person or group of persons who had 
no other means of education ! Twelve lessons would 
not be a great tax on any one, yet how immensely help- 
ful to the taught ! The lessons might take the form 
of anything the teacher had to offer. Physical exercise 
would do, if that were all one could give. Reading and 
writing, or counting, would be good. But better than 
any of these would be talks about geography and his- 
tory, or the interchange of simple scientific conceptions, 
or a training in the observation of the everyday facts 
about us. 
Have we thought how the acquisition of a few ideas 
helps living, how an intellectual speculation, left to 
germinate in the mind, raises and deepens the days it 
colours ? Knowledge is truly the bread of life. Let 
us hasten, with the best that is in us, to offer knowledge 
to all about us ! 
A GREAT deal is commonly said of the evil done by 
the existence of sects. It may be, however, that such 
statements take somewhat too much for granted ; that 
they are made thoughtlessly ; and that the whole ques- 
tion of the use and abuse of sects is worthy of careful 
Undoubtedly the temper that splits hairs continually 
over minute differences of doctrine, that welcomes dis- 
pute, and divides societies on the slightest pretext, is 
mischievous and reprehensible. If sectarianism of this 
description be the necessary characteristic of sects, then 
the less we see of them the better. All sects must be 
regarded as an evil, and hardly anything could be an 
excuse for their creation. But is it necessary that the 
schismatic temper should be the one inevitable product 
of a sect ? 
It is not the desire to separate from others, but the 
desire of men to unite themselves together, round the 
banner of a common truth or ideal, that brings the sect 
into being. The sect is a church, and a church, to quote 
a time-honoured definition, is neither more nor less 
than " a company of faithful people." In this sense, we 
might almost call any body of persons associating them- 
selves voluntarily for the purposes of some scholarly 
study, or learned idea, a sect, or church. In a sense, a 
gathering of the fellows of a medical society, or an 
Asiatic society, is a congregation. In a sense, since 
these bodies are made up of persons " faithful " to a 
certain idea, they are churches. And as soon as we say 
this, we realize that the sect is really an assertion of 
unity, not of difference ; an association, not a separa- 
tion ; a brotherhood, not a schism. 
But let us look at the religious body, the church 
gathered round some central idea of faith or conduct, 
the ecclesiastical church. Do sects of this kind play no 
large and generous purpose in the world, from which 
we may learn ? Undoubtedly they do. In the first 
place, they form a confraternity, even, in a certain sense, 
a home. The struggling, poverty-stricken member has 
those about him who will aid, those whose communal 
interest lies in his well-being, those who will defend him 
from the sneers and oppression of the world without. 
This aspect of the sect may be seen in the Jewish, the 
Jain, and the Parsi communities. 
The sect is also a school. The children of its 
members have a heritage in the idea, and their church 
is responsible for their education in it. They are born 
to a place in an army, and the ideals and discipline, as 
well as the solidarity, of soldiers, are theirs from the first 
moment of life. 
The sect is an arena. Each member's life is plunged 
in the open, with the moral enthusiasm of all about him 
to be his guide and stay. The honour of the church 
demands the highest possible achievement of each one 
of its sons. She gives her hero parting salutation, and 
welcome on return. She treasures up every significant 
act of his life, and makes it available to those who live 
in his shadow. She provides a home and friends in the 
distant cities for the youth who fares forth to seek 
fortune and adventure. She is mother and friend and 
guardian, guru and generalissimo and banner, all in one. 
Is a sect altogether an evil ? 
Yet the final use of the sect is the transcending of 
sects. Its greatest sin is to deny the truth to those 
without. Every moment of our lives is Judgment- 
Day. Even at their culmination, when the part has 
been played with honour in the sight of all men, there 
is the question as to the spirit in which the whole shall 
be summed up. Shall we end by claiming the sole in- 
fallibility for ourselves? Or shall our final message be 
" Lo, this is the light that lighteth every man that 
cometh into the world"? 
In India the land from which the words just quoted 
surely emanated there can be no doubt as to which of 
these is the true attitude. No one church has a mon- 
opoly of truth. No single shepherd is alone infallible. 
There is no final sect except Humanity, and that 
Humanity must include, as Buddha thought, all that 
lives and enshrines a soul. 
The day may perhaps have gone by for the forming 
of sects, but not for taking their spirit and inspiring 
our own lives with it. As the church is a school, a 
home, a brotherhood, so let every village be, amongst 
us. As the sect is a great over-arching Motherhood, 
so be to us our country and our fellows. The religious 
band gathered round a common truth. But we are 
called together by the sacredness of our place. The 
ancient Aryan planted his altar, and lighted the sacred 
fire when he came to the spot that seemed to him most 


sacred. And so to us, every common hearth-place is 
the Vedic altar. The household, the village, the city, 
and the country, are they not so many different forth- 
shinings to the heart, of One Immensity of Mother- 
hood ? As Her children, born in the light of these Her 
shrines, are we not all one brotherhood - in the closest 
of bonds ? 
A VISIT to a Christian church impresses one very 
powerfully with the organizing and co-operating instinct 
of the European races. Their religious thought, like 
that of the Jewish people from whom they derive it, 
often seems to us, in comparison with the rich back- 
ground of Hinduism, poor, or even childish ; but as to 
the beauty and impressiveness of their ceremonial and 
liturgical expression, there can be no dispute. 
Nor do we class all Christian forms as equal in this 
respect. The old Latin Church, while much more 
historic, and much closer to Asiatic ritual, does not 
seem to us to compare, in the simple grandeur of its 
services, with the modern church of Anglican Protes- 
tantism. In the Roman Church, a great deal of the 
service is performed by a priest, on behalf of a silent 
kneeling congregation. This is parallel with the part 
played by the Brahman in our own services. The great 
stroke of genius, in which the European mind reaches 
its most distinctive manifestation, appears to have 
been the invention of Common Prayer. It was per- 
haps the Mohammedans who first thought of it, 1 and 
Europe had been saturated with the idea of Moham- 
1 Sister Nivedita, quoting Swami Vivekananda, was accustomed to 
attribute the institution of common prayer to Islam. This view over- 
looks its establishment in Jewish worship many centuries earlier. 
*> 3* 
medan institutions, doubtless, throughout the whole 
period of the Crusades. Then again, one of the most 
powerful contributory causes of the Reformation itself 
had lain in the capture of Constantinople, in 1453 A.D., 
by the Ottoman Turks. This was an event which 
must, in the nature of things, have revived and deepened 
the European tradition of the Saracen and his ways. 
And who shall say what impression falls deepest into 
the mind of nation or individual, to germinate most 
Mean it what it may, it is certain that Christianity 
began by being an Asiatic idea, but ends, attaining its 
most distinctive characteristics, as European Protes- 
tantism ; that common prayer meaning the united 
prayer of the congregation, taking a definite part in the 
drama of worship began with Islam, but ends in such 
places as the Anglican Church. 
Hinduism possesses congregational worship in rudi- 
ment only. Hitherto, it has not greatly recognized 
anything beyond the priest and the single worshipping 
soul. Its view of the act of prayer is so much more 
intense than the European, that it would seem to it a 
confusion in terms to talk of such conceptions as de- 
mocratic worship ! And yet, for this worship by the 
individual soul, it offers the beaten paths of liturgy and 
ritual, written prayer and pre-determined act. In this, 
again, it provides us with the exact antithesis of Europe, 
where those sects who exalt the individual experience 
in matters spiritual become nonconformist, and discard 
all pre-determined expression and form. 
Christianity produces very few rishis and great 
saints. Only at long intervals do we meet, in Europe, 
with a Francis, a Teresa, or a Joan. And we meet with 
them almost exclusively in the church of images and 
Tapasyd, of Sddhand and Bhajana. In spite of a 
Frances Ridley Havergal, and the American Shakers, in 
spite of Swedenborg amongst the riskis, and the Wes- 
leys and Catherine Booth amongst the saints, Protestan- 
tism can hardly be said to have made up the full tale 
of numbers due from her as yet. The strength of 
Christianity, the strength of Europe, does not, in fact, 
lie in the exceptions it produces. Its strength lies tin 
its average. It may be defective in greatness ; it is 
remarkably well represented when it comes to a fair 
working level, of a somewhat crude type perhaps, 
aggressive, very cocksure, extremely limited in ideas ; 
but a success, when we consider how well it is held by 
the majority, how little, comparatively speaking, is the 
lapse below it. For this, Christianity has lopped off 
the heads of her tallest growths, that there might be 
none, either, hopelessly dwarfed. For this she makes 
her worship into a sort of literary and musical exercise, 
knowing well that we cannot constantly lend ourselves 
to the articulation of given ideas, without eventually 
becoming approximated to them in our own nature. 
For this, she has confined herself to the narrow ground 
of a scheme of salvation nineteen hundred years old. 
For this, she exalts service above Jndnam, and social 
utility above Bhakti that she might create a strong, 
mutually-coherent, self-respecting average, and raise 
her multitudes to its level. 
In matters of religion, a Hindu peasant seems like a 
cultivated man of the world beside what is often the 
childishness of a European man of letters. In matters 
of civic right, the humblest European will often regard 
as obvious and inevitable what is hidden from the Hindu 
leader and statesman. 
But we are come to the age of the Interchange of 
Ideals. Humanity does not repeat her lessons. What 
is learnt in one province of her great kingdom she 
expects another to take and use. Undoubtedly the 
thought of the East is about to effect the conquest of 
the West. And the ideals of the West, in turn, are 
to play their part in the evolution of the East. This 
point of view has little in common with that of the 
missionary, for it means that neither will displace the 
other. Each will act as complementary only. 
Hinduism will undoubtedly in the future develop a 
larger democratic element. She will begin to recognize 
the value of liturgical prayer. A new consideration will 
be felt amongst us for the education and training of 
the average man. Notions of service, ideals of action, 
will come in, to re-enforce our too exclusive admiration 
for the higher forms of realization. It is to be hoped 
that we shall never lose our regard for the segregation 
of the soul, as the path to God. But without losing 
this, we could well afford to emphasize the potentialities 
of the crowd. To a certain extent, these tendencies 
have already found exemplification in the Arya, Brahmo, 
and Prarthana Samajes. In Bengal, the Adi Brahmo 
Samaj, of the Maharshi Devendranath Tagore, repre- 
sents to us much that the Lutheran and Anglican 
Churches represent in Christianity. It is Protestant, so 
to speak, yet liturgical ; full of tradition, yet congrega- 
tional. The Sadharan Brahmo Samaj, on the other 
hand, corresponds to the nonconforming sects in Eng- 
land. There is still in it, perhaps, a greater regard for 
inherited prayers and formulae than amongst the icono- 
clasts of Europe. But this is not to be wondered at, 
in a religion so much more venerable than theirs as 
What we still want, nevertheless, is the taking up of 
these new features into modern orthodox Hinduism. 
If Hinduism is to become aggressive, taking back 
its own perverted children, and holding its arms open 
to foreign converts, it must also develop, so to speak, 
a democratic wing. The People must find a place and 
a united voice in its services. The procession must be 
made articulate in hymns and responses. There will 
be stated times of assembly, and the temple steps may 
even become the pulpit, the place of exposition, and 
exhortation. All these changes will not displace the in- 
dividual/^. None of us need fear the loss of religious 
treasures whose true value we are only now able to 
But these are the days of a great new outpouring of 
God upon our people, and the Mother-Church, ever 
responsive, will feel this and give it utterance, even as 
in the past she has reflected each phase of our national 
history. We shall abandon nothing, but add all things. 
For the sake of the many we shall learn to exalt action, 
to idealize work. But Hinduism will not, for all that, 
cease to be the school of the few, leading them to 
Jnanam> to Bhakti, to renunciation, and to Mukti. 
Religion is not passive and static. It is dynamic, ever 
growing. This truth remains for us to prove. 
SOME people strive to be truly Indian by looking 
back, and some aim at the same goal by looking for- 
ward. It is quite evident that we need both, yet 
that of the two the second is still the more impor- 
tant. We need the two, because the future must be 
created out of the strength of the past. None of us 
can be educated by rebuke alone. The teacher who 
really forms us, is he who sees better than we did our- 
selves what we really longed and strove for, how far 
our effort was right, and in what points we might make 
it still finer and better. He who interprets us to our- 
selves, and at the same time gives us hope, is the true 
In the same way a nation cannot be aided by con- 
tempt or abuse. The future cannot be founded on a 
past admitted to be a failure. He who attempts to do 
this will never understand his own defeat. Before we 
can teach, we must first worship the Divine that ex- 
presses itself through the taught. Service is really 
worship. Charity is worship. And even education is 
worship. Because I see in you the infinite Atman 
pure, free, irresistible and eternal, I may help you to 
remove some of the barriers to Its free expression. If 
the whole of humanity were not in you, what would be 
the use of our efforts ? They could bring forth no fruit. 
It follows that the advance of communities, like 
that of individuals, depends in the first place upon a 
clear conception of the goal before them, and a reverent 
appreciation of the work they have done in the past 
towards that end. Hence there must be a certain ele- 
ment of conservatism in all great social upheavals. 
But it would be better to be confined to the future 
than to be confined to the past ! After all, whether 
we know it or not, we cannot help carrying a certain 
amount of our inherited strength with us. And we 
must be hewing out the path for the advance of others. 
It is this tendency to limitation, to refuse full freedom 
to others, that is apt to make the young so impatient 
of what they take to be blind reaction. But the fault 
is not in conservatism itself, as our youth themselves 
will one day come to see, but rather in its denial of 
freedom to advance. All religions are true, as Sri 
Ramakrishna taught us, and practically everything in 
them is true, save and except those points in which 
they declare other faiths to be false. Similarly, our 
conservatives are right enough, except when they say 
that the youngsters are wrong, and the youngsters are 
true, except when they fret against the back-looking 
Each has need to love and pray for the success of 
the other. Do we want to see India turned into a pale 
copy of America ? God forbid ! How precious, as a 
bulwark against our own impatience then, are these 
staunch old believers who hold the national treasure, 
and guard the national colour, against all innovation ! 
But do we want to see India with her wings clipped, 
chained to the roosting-perch, unable to do or to be or 
to soar where she will ? If not, let our love and bene- 
diction go everywhere with our wayward children, in 
their sublime assault upon the future. On, on, strong 
souls, with your experiments in progress, your fiery 
hopes, and your fearless forward march ! We know 
the love that burns in your hearts for the village home, 
and the father and grandfather. Better, we hold, 
could the land do without us than without you ! The 
time will yet come when you will return to the old 
home, tired of wandering, weary of the fight, and leav- 
ing your own children to man the breach you leave, will 
turn your hearts to the ancient wisdom, and seek the 
final release. How grateful will you then be to the 
grey heads that preserved the national home ! No 
other refuge could have seemed so cool as this old 
house. No music could have been so sweet as these 
temple bells. It is for the future that the past lives 
on. The past has no bhakta to compare with that 
future ! 
WE cannot too strongly condemn the reckless non- 
sense that is sometimes talked amongst our country- 
men to the effect that countries are rendered effete by 
their religion, that by reason of her religion India has 
fallen upon a period of decline, and that because she 
has no religion Japan is a success. 
The difficulty in dealing with this tangle of untruths 
is to know where to begin. Shall we first attack our 
friends' notion of what is religion ? Or would it be 
wiser first to notice their idea of what constitutes the 
decline and success of countries ? Some of us would 
indignantly reject the assumption that Japan is a suc- 
cess, preferring to maintain that precisely because she 
has no religion, in half a century she will be outstripped 
and forgotten. 
Again, some of us would decline to admit that India 
is in a state of decay, being prepared to hold against 
all-comers the contrary opinion that she stands on the 
threshold of a great future, and feels coursing within 
her veins the blood of youth. 
But these are matters in which our personal tem- 
perament and experience will largely determine our 
view. Hence, argument is more or less useless about 
them. The only demonstration that can be really 
successful will be that of the new heaven and the new 
earth, rising up about us, and the evidence of our 
senses themselves as to the truth. That argument 
will not be created by those who despair and talk of 
senile exhaustion ! 
The main point to be considered is what our friends 
are pleased to mean by religion. Perhaps, when this 
is well defined, we shall see that if India is not dead 
to-day, she owes her survival to the fact of her religion. 
Religion in this sense is not superstition, it is not fear, 
or mythology, or the practice of penances. It is living 
thought and belief, with their reaction in character. 
Hinduism is not in this sense an idolatry of the 
fugitive. Success is as fleeting in the lives of nations 
as is defeat. Hinduism is no gospel of success. It 
does not even profess to hold out any short cut there. 
To do this is the domain of magic. Our religion is 
something better than a series of magical formulae. 
If Hinduism were the gospel of success, it would be- 
long only to one-half of experience. 
When we are true to the faith that is in us, we be- 
come the witness, looking on at the spectacle of victory 
and of defeat. Seeking for triumph to the utmost of 
our power, we are not therefore enslaved by it. 
Striving with all our might to reverse our defeat, we 
are nevertheless not bowed down by it. In conquer- 
ing as in being conquered, we stand serene, in the 
power of religion, conscious of a sovereign self-re- 
straint within that yields to none of the circumstances 
of life, whether these be good or ill. Are we indeed 
jealous of those whose whole good is in the world about 
them ? Do we not know that in the pairs of opposites 

there is oscillation, that good is followed by ill, fame

by ignominy, brilliant success by blackness of dis- 
aster ? 
Religion is the permanent element, the accumula- 
tion of human thought and character in the midst of 
the ebb and flow of circumstance. This building up 
of the corporate personality is closely associated with 
the maintenance of native religious ideas. Who shall 
restore ancient Egypt, or Mesopotamia, Chaldaea or 
Assyria ? None, for the things that made them indi- 
viduals have disappeared for ever. Even a language 
can only persist round some central expression of a 
people's genius. We must not be misled by the bril- 
liance of a moment. Where is Rome ? Where is 
Portugal ? Where is Spain ? A few centuries are to 
the spirit of history only as an hour in the life of an 
ordinary man. Nations are not made or unmade 
by the flight of time, but by the steadiness and pati- 
ence with which they hold, or do not hold, to the trust 
that it is theirs to carry through the ages. A moment 
of brilliant commercial exploitation does not constitute 
historic success, unless there are forces at work to main- 
tain intact the personality of the victor. Nor can that 
commercial success itself endure, apart from character 
and integrity in those who have achieved it. Our re- 
ligion teaches us that this world is not real. It is im- 
possible for one who sincerely holds this, to barter the 
life of mind and conscience for external ease and com- 
fort. Yet this preference of conscience above the in- 
terest of the moment is the master-quality in attaining 
the inheritance even of the earth itself. 
AMONGST fallacies which are characteristic of special 
states of society there is in modern times none which 
is more common than the question, " Does it pay ? " 
The remark ought always to be answered by a counter- 
question. " Pay whom ? " And until this is clearly 
and fully replied to, no further answer should be given. 
It will generally be found that the reference is to 
the individual. Is a given course of conduct likely to 
benefit that individual who engages in it, within a cer- 
tain relatively short period ? If so, that conduct is ad- 
visable, but if otherwise, then not. 
Now this would be all very well, if a sufficiently 
large meaning could be given to the idea of the indi- 
vidual, or to the notion of what his benefit involved. 
Unfortunately, however, the class of mind to which the 
argument appeals strongly and clearly is not one which 
is capable of giving a larger significance to anything. 
If we are contemplating a course of vice it is a fair 
argument to ask " Does it pay ? " because vice or sin 
of any kind is always in the long run detrimental to 
the best interests not only of the individual but also 
of the society. 
Every advance in human knowledge, every inven- 
tion, every achievement, almost without exception, 
throughout the history of Humanity, has been gained 
by those who had abandoned the idea of profit for 
themselves, and who were contented to labour for the 
profit of mankind. We are too apt, in India, to re- 
gard this as an ideal proper to the sannyasin only. 
We have to learn to-day that there must be no society 
without its sannyasins, and that many social applica- 
tions have yet to be found for Sannyas. 
As a matter of fact, curiously few undertakings are 
capable in all their stages of paying the individual. 
There is nothing which is more necessary socially than 
education. Yet is it not notorious that only in ex- 
ceptional states of society can the educator be ade- 
quately paid ? Why do the religious orders of the 
Roman Catholic Church carry so much of the educa- 
tional burden in countries that are not Roman Catho- 
lic ? Only because the individual worker contributes 
his service, as far as his community is concerned, free 
of charge. And thus his community triumphs. The 
training of the men whom it attracts ensures its prestige, 
their unselfishness its victory. This is the case with 
education to-day. But the same happened in Central 
Europe in earlier ages, with regard to other equally 
important activities. Thus J. R. Green says of the 
Begging Friars, or sannyasins, who came to England 
in the year 1224 A.D. : 
" The work of the Friars was physical as well as 
moral. The rapid progress of population within the 
boroughs had outstripped the sanitary regulations of the 
middle ages, and fever or plague or the more terrible 
scourge of leprosy festered in the wretched hovels of 
the suburbs. It was to haunts such as these that 
Francis had pointed his disciples, and the Grey 
Brethren at once fixed themselves in the meanest and 
poorest quarters of each town. Their first work lay 
in the noisome lazar-houses, it was amongst the lepers 
that they commonly chose the site of their homes. At 
London they settled in the shambles of Newgate ; at 
Oxford they made their way to the swampy ground 
between its walls and the streams of Thames. Huts 
of mud and timber, as mean as the huts around them, 
rose within the rough fence and ditch that bounded the 
All this was in the thirteenth century. But at the 
end of the eleventh, there had already arisen in Europe 
an austere order of monks, known as the Cistercians, 
who spread themselves over the moors and forests of 
France and the Rhine-countries ; built abbeys and cath- 
edrals ; began agriculture on a large scale ; drained 
the swamps, and cleared the common-lands. It was 
these Cistercians who afterwards sent out from their 
English mother-houses daughter-communities to settle 
in Norway, and these it was who alone in that country 
were able to practise building in stone, and who taught 
Roman letters, and enabled the people to write down 
their national epics. 
Thus even the West notwithstanding her present 
loud assertions of self-interest and quick profit as valid 
motives of action even the West is built up on unpaid 
labour, on labour whose hire the labourers remitted 
and allowed to accumulate in the interests of the 
commonwealth. In fact it is only after an activity 
has been thoroughly institutionalized, and made com- 
mon and standard, that it can expect to command a 
market rate of wages, so to speak. But before it can 
be institutionalized, it has to be explored and experi- 
mented on by some one or many of the more heroic 
pioneer-souls, in the cause of the community or of the 
Even the English in India, with all their corporate 
selfishness, trace back their rights, as we remember, to 
a certain physician who would accept from a Mogul 
sovereign no personal reward but a factory-concession 
for the merchants, his fellow-countrymen. There is 
no need to fear a movement that has no Sannyas at its 
command. We shall find, however, that the counter- 
part of such Sannyas is always a strong and ever-pre- 
sent conception of the community. It was because 
Dr. Hamilton was so well aware of the needs of the 
company of merchants, and because he felt himself so 
strongly to be one of them, that he was able to be un- 
selfish on their behalf. And therefore the true birth 
of an era takes place with a rise of a new idea of social 
There is no question as to what will eventually be 
done in India in the name of Nationality. Let only 
the thought of the nation be vivid enough, and it will 
carry all the necessary sacrifice in its train. And such 
sacrifice, for the nation, for the city, for the common- 
weal, is the school for that loftier, more remote sacri- 
fice, which Hinduism knows as Vairagyam. He who 
has practised the civic Sannyas is best prepared for the 
national service. And he who has been chastened and 
purified in the national unselfishness is the most ready 
for that last and highest renunciation which reacts in 
life as Jndnam, or Bhaktz, or Karma- Yoga. 
But through what a strange series of Sddhands is 
this emancipation to be brought about ! Children 
will need to renounce personal ambition, and parents 
to make the deeper renunciation of ambition for their 
children. And yet these tyagis of the new time will 
wear no gerrua. Seated in an office or ruling over a 
factory ; enrolling his fellows in unions, or studying 
with every nerve and muscle the organization of labour 
on a large scale; giving himself to education, or even, 
it may be, ruling faithfully and devotedly over a house- 
hold of his own, not in the name of its limited interests, 
but against its interests, on behalf of the Indian people, 
such will be the gerrua-c\ad of the new order. 
" He who knows neither fear nor desire," says the 
Gita, " is the true monk." Not the sannyasz'n-clad, but 
the sannyasm-hG&rted. He who has neither fear for 
himself nor hope for himself. He who could see his 
own family starve, if need were, in the communal cause. 
He who is contented to fail, if only out of his failure 
others may sometime in the future succeed. He who 
has no home outside his work, no possession save a 
selfless motive, no hope save that which his own blood 
shall enable his fellows to realize. These are the men 
who are to be found in every class of students to-day. 
And we dare to say to them, and to their neighbours 
and parents : Trust these high hopes that surge up 
within you ! Risk all on your great hopes ! Believe 
in yourselves, and in those who shall succeed you ! So 
forward. Do what you see, and trust Mother for the 
next step. For verily it is of your hearts and your 
minds, of your life and your work that the New India 
which is to come shall yet be made. And blessed are 

ye who have not seen and yet can believe !

INDIA alone, amongst all the countries of the earth, 
has had the boldness that could abolish the mental 
barriers between sacred and secular, high and low. 
India alone, having thought out the great philosophy 
of Advaita, has had the imagination to command Man 
to become the Witness, to declare life to be only play. 
It is a lofty task, to be worthy of the deeds and the 
dreams of our ancestors. Yet if we walk not their 
road, how shall we call others there ? 
" And the Lord said, ' Simon, Simon, Satan hath de- 
sired to have thee, that he may sift thee as wheat ! ' ' 
These sombre words are recorded in the Christian 
Gospel of St. Luke, as spoken by Christ, only an hour 
or two before He was betrayed to His enemies. Such 
is the strength of the Avatar, that when the whole 
world has conspired to put Him on His trial, to hyp- 
notize Him into a belief in His own weakness and 
forlornness, He is only conscious the while of putting 
the world on its trial, and sifting it as wheat. He is 
the one steady point in the great matrix of humanity, 
quivering, sifting, and oscillating in all directions. He 
is the point of inversion of all the feebleness and weak- 
ness of the common mind. 
And from this point of view, the occurrence of the 
45 4* 
Divine Man is a logical necessity. Without Him, as 
the spiritual pole, the tendency to co-ordinate our 
wandering impulses in the fixed outlines of character 
would be impossible. Even the meanest and poorest 
of us, inasmuch as we are man at all, are witnesses to 
Him, since all our efforts culminate in Him. Even 
the least of our strivings relates us to His vast achieve- 
ment, and to that alone. Seen in this light, how true 
it is that we should pray for more strength, and not 
for lighter burdens ! It is strength we want, not calm. 
Calm is only a result. It can be cultivated by practice. 
But if we have strength as the root, then calm and peace 
and steadfastness cannot fail to be its flower. 
The ego that is identified with the body has its gaze 
entirely on one set of phenomena. It sees itself at- 
tacked, condemned, suffering, and scorned. The ego 
that identifies itself with Brahman is directly aware of 
none of these things. Afar off, it may be the witness 
of them. But its gaze is fixed on the opposite whorl 
of movement, that of spiritual intensity, and to it, it 
appears that the world is being put to the test. He 
who knows Himself to be One with the whole universe, 
how should He think of loneliness, how dream of pas- 
sivity ? He knows Himself as the persecutor, as well 
as the persecuted, and both alike as "the Mother's 
Play." Unbroken Sachchid&nanda is His conscious- 
ness, unflawed bliss is in His bearing. And in Him 
meet the hopes and longings of us all. 
There is one form of realization which can be de- 
veloped in the thakur-ghar, and quite another in the 
rough-and-tumble of the world. Both, let us remem- 
ber, are realization. Both are paths hewn through the 
mind to the knowledge of Brahman. Only the science 
of the Avatar can help us, even in the life of street 
and market-place. In Sachchidananda culminate all 
joys and all knowledge, even the knowledge and the 
joy of earth. 
ALL is in the mind. Nothing outside us has any 
power save what we give it. However imposing the 
external world may seem, it is in reality only the toy 
of mind. It is but a feeble expression of what has 
first been thought. " All that we are is the result of 
what we have thought" says Buddha ; " it is founded on 
our thoughts ; it is made up of our thoughts." 
It is for this reason that education is so much the 
most important concern of life. The mind must be 
kept in a condition to work. It must be held at the 
command of the will, from its lowest up to the highest 
possible activity. It must be made competent to en- 
visage any problem, and answer it in a fashion not in- 
adequate. A people can afford to eat poorer food, 
and less of it, than was their custom. They cannot 
afford to let the mind grow dim. They cannot afford 
to part with education. 
In this, the question is not of the particular subject 
through which we receive education. The question is 
of the mind itself, of the education behind the subject. 
Whatever the form of the drill, we must keep up our 
intellectual potentiality. There are two factors in this 
question, one is that of the particular tool or weapon, 
the other that of the mental muscle, the training of the 
limb that gives the grip. It is well, doubtless, to be 
4 8 
familiar with the sword : it is better far to have power 
of arm. Whether by Sanskrit or by technology, by 
mathematics or by poetry, by English or by classic, 
does not matter. These are but the toys through 
which the power is won. What we want is the power 
itself, power of concentration, power of thought. 
India has been strangely fortunate in the production 
of this power. This is what the practice of concentra- 
tion means. This is what samadhi, if we could reach 
it, would mean. This is what prayers and pujas and 
japams all aim at, the power of controlling the mind, 
carried to its highest point. A people must ultimately 
measure itself against others, not in terms offeree, but 
in terms of mind. Their superiority may be invisible, 
may be held in solution, as it were, waiting for the 
favourable moment to form the dense precipitate. But 
let them only practise. Let them only never relax. 
And the potentiality of self- recovery will not pass away. 
Yet we should not allow our superiority to be in- 
visible, or held in suspension. We should be fully 
equal to its assertion. It will be remembered how 
little Sri Ramakrishna admired the cobra who aban- 
doned not only biting, but also even hissing. A whole 
community that knew how to hiss, would mean a 
community that never required to bite. " Peace on 
earth" is only, really, to be attained by this means! 
How keen and clear was the intellect that saw this, 
and laid it down as a great human ideal ! How 
masterly was that other mind that penetrated all our 
controversies and summed up all our perplexities in 
the one pronouncement, " Quit ye like men ! " 
And how are we to quit us like men ? By never 
sitting down short of the goal. By aspiring to the 
front on the field of battle, and the back in the durbar. 
By struggle, struggle, struggle, within and without. 
Above all, by every form of self-mastery and self-direc- 
tion. There is no tool that we must not try to wield, no 
weapon that we can be content to leave to others. In 
every field we must enter into the world-struggle. And 
we must aim at defeating every competitor. The New 
Learning is ours, no less than other men's. The search 
for truth is ours, and we are as well equipped for it as 
any. Civic integrity is ours. We have only to de- 
monstrate it. Honour is ours. We may have to carry 
it into places new and strange. The communal con- 
sciousness, the corporate individuality, all are ours, 
though we have to express them in unknown ways. 
Public spirit and self-sacrifice, we are capable of these. 
But to realize the ideal that these words call up be- 
fore us, we must struggle for education of all kinds, as 
captives for air, as the famine-stricken for food. We 
must capture for ourselves the means of a fair struggle, 
and then, turn on us all the whiteness of your search- 
lights, oh ye tests of modern progress ! Ye shall not 
find the children of India shrink from the fierceness of 
your glow ! 
LET us, in our own lives, and in the training of our 
children, try to get back to the fundamental virtues. 
None can ask us for success. Any may demand of 
us truth, simplicity, purity, courage. All these are 
only so many different faces, as it were, of one central 
perseverance in virtue, one nuclear sincerity, which 
makes the whole life of a man into a patient following 
of a thread, an idea, which he sees within his mind. 
This patience, this steadfastness, this sincerity, is 
Dharma the substance, the self-ness, of things and of 
men. Dharma makes us the toys of the great world- 
forces. Do we desire to be other? It makes us as 
dead leaves borne onwards by the furious tempests of 
the conscience. Is there a higher lot ? Instruments of 
ideas, used, not using ; slaves of the gods, scourged 
along all the thorny roads of life ; resting not, fearing 
not, embracing ecstasy at the heart of despair. 
Sincerity is what we want. Sincerity is the key and 
foundation of all realizations. Sincerity is the simplest 
of all the great qualities, and of them all, it goes the 
farthest. Sincerity and the heart fixed steadfastly on 
the Unseen it is the whole of victory. Truth, purity, 
courage, can their opposites exist in him who is 
sincere ? Are they not all forms of that one clear- 
sightedness ? The man who step by step proceeds to- 
wards his own soul's quest, conscious of that and that 
alone, is there any lie, cowardice, or grossness that can 
tempt him? 
The opposite of sincerity is ostentation, hypocrisy, 
love of show. To seek constantly for advertisement, 
to talk big, to ask for results instead of methods, this 
is to undermine sincerity, to build up stuff of failure 
instead of triumph. It is this, of which we must seek 
to root out even the incipient impulse. It is this over 
which we must strive to help our children. It is this 
that we must learn to avoid with passionate horror. 
By reserve, by modesty, by labour to make the deed 
greater than the word, we must deny and punish that 
thing in us that cries out for self-assertion, for cheap 
praise, and easy notoriety. 
Everything in the modern world tends to foster the 
habit of loud talk. We have travelled far away from 
the quiet dignity and simple pride of our forefathers. 
Their freedom from self-consciousness is what we want. 
But it is to be got in one way, and one alone. We 
must do as they did, take ideals and thoughts that are 
greater than ourselves and set them before us, till our 
life's end, as the goals of the soul. Only when we 
are merged in the flood-tide that is God, can we in 
very truth forget the reflection in the mirror that is 
called the Ego. And the flood-tide of God takes many 
names, some amongst them being strangely familiar in 
their spelling. Let us live for anything, so only it be 
great enough to teach us forgetfulness of self ! Forget- 

fulness of self is in itself the finding of God.

THE worshipper of God as a Providence does un- 
doubtedly gain something from his worship in courage ; 
since every man believes instinctively that God is with 
him, whomsoever He might be against. Yet nothing 
can wipe out from Providence-worships the stain of 
using God, of subordinating Him to the petty interests 
of Self. 
The belief in Destiny has its dangers, also. For we 
sink so easily into the assumption that Destiny alone 
is active, while we regard ourselves as passive. Yet 
the truth in fact is that we are active and dominant, 
and Destiny at the most is passive. " Kismet ! " cries 
the Arab soldier, as he speeds forward in the charge, 
or rushes madly into the breach. No soldier, for 
an immediate victory, like this. But " Kismet ! " he 
mutters again, solemnly, as the return fire forces his 
first rush backwards, and that very belief in Destiny 
that made him a moment ago the fiercest soldier in the 
world, makes him now the most difficult to rally. 
Different from either of these is the courage born of 
Mother-worship in Hinduism. Here, the embrace is 
death, the reward is pain, the courage is rapture All, 
not the good alone, is Her touch on the brow All, 
not simply the beneficent, is Her will for Her child. 
" Where shall I look," he cries, " that Thou art not ? 
If I take the wings of the morning and fly unto the 
uttermost parts of the sea, lo, Thou art there ! If I 
go down into Hell, Thou art there also ! " 
The worship of the Mother is in truth the Vedanta 
of the hero. She is the whole, the Primal Force, the 
Infinite Power, the Adi-Sakti. To become one-d with 
That Power is to reach samddhi. It is by blotting out 
self, by annihilating personality, that we may enter 
that vision. "When desire is gone, and all the cords 
of the heart are broken, then" says the Veda, " a man 
attains to immortality." 
We do not naturally love that whose strength is too 
great for us. One who had been left alone for a few 
minutes in a cavern beside Niagara, told of a passion 
of hatred that overwhelmed her as she looked. It was 
the active form of physical fear. We should feel the 
same hatred, perhaps, for the midnight universe that 
looks now to us so brilliantly beautiful, were we free to 
move along the paths of the stars, and come face to face 
with foreign suns. Our emotions are, for the most part, 
the result of an immediate and subconscious measure- 
ment of ourselves and our relations to that by which we 
are confronted. To few indeed has it been given to 
know " the joy of the witness." To fewer still, the 
last and highest rapture of the union, once for all, with 
the Mother. 
Those who would reach this must worship Death. 
Drinking the cup of suffering to the dregs, again and 
again they will hold it out, empty, for more. To the 
strong, no going back ; to the resolute, no disillusion- 
ment. The disillusionments of which we read in poetry 
are not signs of strength. They are sudden reactions 
of self-consciousness and egoism, at unexpected move- 
ments. The hero, with his irresistible energy, and his 
unflinching gaiety, does not know whether that which 
meets him is pleasant or sad. He goes through it, and 
demands more. He treads on a sword as it were on 
air. He has passed beyond self. 
" Sri Ramakrishna," said the Swami Vivekananda, 
" never thought of being humble. But he had long ago 
forgotten that Ramakrishna ever existed." This is the 
energy, and this the courage, of the Mother-worshipper. 
He who has realized the Infinite, of what shall he be 
afraid? Death is contained within him. How then 
shall he fear death ? In what shall he think pain differ- 
ent from pleasure ? He has broken the great illusion. 
How shall it be of avail against him ? Says George 
" Strong souls live like fire-hearted suns, 
To spend their strength in farthest action. 
Breathe more free in mighty anguish 
Than in trivial ease." 
And the words ring true. For such is strength. 

And such are the heroes who are born of Mother.

NOTHING is a greater test of education than the noble 
employment of leisure and means. It is not nearly so 
much by our performance of duties, as by our selection 
of interests, that our character is revealed. This is why 
an age of luxury is apt to act so disastrously on the 
richer classes. The man who would have been a gentle- 
man and a man of honour, under steady toil, becomes 
a mere animal, and sometimes not even a sane or 
healthy animal, when his whole life is turned into play. 
When the standards of luxury, however, by which we 
are invaded, are imported and extraneous to our civil- 
ization, their danger to the conscience is increased a 
hundred-fold. The moral sense of Europe itself can 
hardly stand against the intensification of waste which 
has come in with the motor car. How then were Indian 
princes to resist the sudden incursion of alcohol, sport, 
and the acquaintance with Western methods of gam- 
bling, all these being bestowed upon them, moreover, 
by individuals who remained more or less unaffected 
themselves by any of the deeper ethical idealisms of 
their own world ? 
Yet it is precisely by the types of freedom which it 
develops that a system is to be judged. There are 
many different ways of arriving at a given end. A man 
may arrive at personal cleanliness, refinement, and 
honour, by methods Hindu, Mohammedan, or Euro- 
pean. But whatever be the road he takes, he must, in 
the end, prove himself a gentleman, or the method of 
his training stands condemned. Betting, smoke-sod- 
denness, and intoxication, are not the marks of a man 
of good breeding in Europe, any more than in the East. 
And even when they do occur, in their native habitat, 
they usually tend to be somewhat corrected, in their 
manifestation, by the social habits of their proper en- 
vironment. A certain alertness of manner must be 
maintained in Western circles, if a man is not to be 
set down by his associates as an effeminate fool. Per- 
sonal diffidence and an instinctive courtesy to, and re- 
sponsibility for the protection of, women and the weak, 
are demanded of every one. Spareness of form and 
hardness of muscles, together with the readiness to 
shoulder physical hardships with enjoyment, are ab- 
solute essentials of the gentleman. Thus the caste-ideal 
tends in some measure to correct caste-vice. But the 
adhesion of the individual to the ideal is often automatic 
and only half-conscious. The things that are apt to 
pass on energetically to a royal Indian pupil are the 
vices, instead of the virtues, of his class. 
Corresponding truths hold, in various degrees, of all 
the ranks affected by Western habits. We are only too 
likely to catch the contagion of luxury instead of that 
of ideals. The Englishman's society allows him to 
drink tea in the morning, but requires that when he 
travels away from railways, he shall either walk or ride. 
Our danger is, lest we indulge in the tea but continue 
to have ourselves wheeled in rickshaws, or carried in 
chairs and dandies. The Englishman eats well, but he 
also works well ; he never refers to his health in public ; 
he masters the use of a weapon, and goes through life 
(if he be true to his ideals) at the price of his own power 
to defend himself, " like a man." It is much easier for 
the foreigner to catch his habit of eating chicken than 
his strenuous suppression of the letter " I " and arduous 
avoidance of degrading ease. It is much easier to em- 
ulate his privileges than his manliness and notions of 
personal dignity. 
Forewarned, however, is forearmed. Few of us re- 
alize the power, in saving us from moral danger, of 
clear thought. Our own ideals are our best armour. 
Let us keep our minds clear as to what constitutes 
glory of manhood, and glory of womanhood. Doing 
this, each increment of ease and wealth becomes fresh 
material for sacrifice to some noble object. 
RENUNCIATION is always of the lower, for the sake of 
the higher. It is never of the higher, in order to pos- 
sess the lower. Renunciation is of the easy, in favour 
of the difficult, of the superficial, to reach the pro- 
found. It proposes new duties : it never bestows ease. 
Sri Ramakrishna's wonderful story of the penitent 
cobra contains in a sentence the whole doctrine of per- 
sonal dignity and power. " Raise the hood, but don't 
bite ! " how many occasions are there in life, when 
this gives us the key of the situation ! With how many 
persons do we maintain excellent relations merely be- 
cause they know that at a moment's notice, on the 
slightest infringement of our relative positions, our 
sweetness would leave us, and we should become 
threatening in attitude, menacing, hostile ! The cobra 
would, in other words, have lifted his hood. 
But we must not make the mistake of supposing that 
every act of fretfulness or irritation is such a lifting of 
the hood. In the cobra we find a developed power of 
anger, a trained power to use the most formidable 
weapons of offence in the world, an instant perception 
of the moment's need, and, above all, every one of these 
held in conscious restraint. It is the power behind him 
that makes the serpent so formidable. It is no use for 
fools or cowards to talk of lifting the hood ! It follows 
that there were years of growth behind the penitence 
59 5 
of our hero, during which his sole duty was to become 
the cobra. Having gained his power , true strength was 
shown by controlling it. It is the duty of every man 
to be the cobra. Ours is no gospel of weaklings ! We 
ought so to live that in our presence can be wrought 
no wrong. Even biting may be needful, when the 
power of the cobra is not understood, but the hurt dealt 
should always be by way of warning, never an act of 
vengeance. Relatively to our consciousness of strength, 
it must only be the lifting of the hood. 
All these truths are easily seen in the punishment of 
a child. What should we think of the parent whose 
whole soul went into the chastisement of his son ? It 
is evident here that there must be a certain detach- 
ment, a certain aloofness from our own action, if the 
punishment is ever to be effective. Punishment given 
in anger rouses nothing but the contempt of a culprit. 
Punishment gravely and sorrowfully dealt out, by one 
who is conscious the while of the ideal that has been 
outraged, converts while it pains. 
Force is only well used by the man who has an idea 
beyond force. Force is meant to be used, not to carry us 
away on its flood. It represents the horses, well-reined- 
in by the successful driver. Restraint is the highest ex- 
pression of strength. But strength must first be present, 
to be restrained. No one respects the man without 
courage : and no one respects the blind human brute, 
whose actions are at the mercy of his own impulses of 
rage. Ours is the religion of strength. To be strong 
is, to our thinking, the first duty of man. So to live that 
our mere presence enforces righteousness, and protects 
weakness, is no mean form of personal achievement. 
EVERY man's estimate of himself is a focussing-point for 
his estimate of the society to which he belongs. Is there 
anything that makes proud like the consciousness of 
family ? Is there anything that makes sensitive like 
pride of race ? That man who gives high respect to 
others is the same who demands the finest courtesy for 
himself. By the freedom we constantly assert, we ap- 
praise the freedom of our blood in the eyes of the 
whole world. 
The pride of birth has been cultivated in India, for 
thousands of years, as a social and national safeguard. 
Like other forms of pride, it is a virtue when it is posi- 
tive, and a vice only when it denies the right of equal 
pride to others. The vanity that cuts us off from the 
community, telling us that we are better than they, is 
petty and vulgar, and while it humiliates those whom 
we would insult, it only makes a laughing-stock of 
ourselves in the eyes of all who are competent to judge. 
However celebrated our family, it is hardly possible to 
be of such exalted birth that there is not anyone else 
in any single respect still more exalted. Our joy 
therefore can at best be but relative, till it may dawn 
upon us that the greatest distinction lies in simplicity, 
and that privilege or monopoly is, after all, conter- 
minous with meanness. 
6! 5* 
Pride of birth, in fact, like other forms of Karma, 
should be regarded as an opportunity, a responsibility, 
a trust. The higher my position, the more difficult 
and arduous my duty. The purer my inheritance, the 
greater my powers of endurance. If we could but see 
truly, we should know that to be a man is to be nobly 
born, and our merit remains for us to prove. All 
things are possible to all men, for equally are the ex- 
pressions of the Infinite, the Pure, the All-knowing, the 
Free. Man may make distinctions between man and 
man. But God makes none. He opens to each one 
of us the franchise of struggle, and leaves it to us to 
make our own place. 
Oh for lofty ambitions ! What shall we do with 
our lives ? Let us swear to eliminate self. Walking 
any path, doing any task, let us pursue the ideal for its 
own sake, the ideal to the utmost, the ideal to the 
end. Whatever we do, let us do it with our might. 
Spurning ease, forsaking gain, renouncing self, let us 
snatch the highest achievement that offers itself, at any 
cost, and cease not from struggle till it is in our hands. 
This is what was meant by the ancient reformers, when 
they said " he who attains to God is the true Brahman." 
Birth was but a preliminary condition, and that not 
essential ; it could never be substituted for the end itself. 
Every study has its own problems. The Modern 
Learning carries its own questions. The Brahman of 
to-day ought to enter into these. He ought to share 
the modern curiosity. The whole of education is com- 
plete if we once waken in a child a thirst for knowledge. 
Can we not waken a like thirst in ourselves ? Are 
flying-machines and motors to receive no elaboration 
from the Indian mind ? Is that mind not equal to such 
tasks? Then is it inferior to the European? If we 
claim equality, on us lies the responsibility of proving 
the claim. Let us do away with trumpery ambitions ! 
Let us learn in order to teach the world, in order to win 
truth for Humanity, not in order to strut in borrowed 
plumes before a village crowd. Let us be severe with 
ourselves. Let us know, on the subject we take up, 
all that there is to be known. Let us read great books. 
Let us make perfect collections. No difficulty should 
daunt us. Fate offers obstacles that man may overcome. 
Thus he becomes the nursling of the gods, gifted with 
divine strength, and seats himself amidst the immortals. 
In great struggles all men are equal. Anyone may 
enter these lists. The prize is to the winner, high or low, 
man or woman. But no man can rise alone. Collective 
effort is essential. He who mounts far must have 
twenty behind him, close upon his heels. Our learn- 
ing is not all our own. We gain it through others, as 
well as by our own effort. Alone, we could not cover 
the necessary ground. Our society sets us a high 
standard, and shining there, we succeed before the 
world. Thus each one is aided by the victory of any 
other, and the glory of one is the glory of all. 
Thought, thought, we want clear thought ! And for 
clear thought, labour is necessary, knowledge is neces- 
sary, struggle is necessary. Clear thought and rightly- 
placed affection are essential conditions of victory in 
any field. The nation that is true to itself and its age 
will give birth to millions of great men, for the inflow- 
ing of the Divine Spirit is without limit, and the great- 
ness of one is the greatness of all. 
CHARACTER is latency. A man's very being is the 
record of his whole past. This is the secret of the 
profound significance of history. The future cannot 
be different from the past, any more than a man's body 
can be inherited from the ancestors of another. 
But the future is not born of some portion only of 
the past. It is born and created and conditioned by 
the whole. This is what is really meant by the 
doctrine of Karma. The East, with its belief in re- 
incarnation, has a wonderful instrument for the under- 
standing and discrimination of life. It catches shades 
and tints of personality that others could not dis- 
tinguish. In what the man is, it can read what he 
aspired to. In what he unconsciously does, it can 
see the past. The throne may often fall to the lot of 
one who was used to be a slave. But we may be 
sure that for deeply penetrating sight the monarch's 
robes cannot conceal the lash-marks on his back. The 
serf may many times have been an emperor. The 
keen observer will not fail to note the ring of 
command in his voice, the eye of decision in a crisis, 
the flush of pride rising hot under insult. 
The whole of a man is in his every act, however 
difficult to the world be the reading of the script. 
Noble longing is never vain. Lofty resolve is never 
6 4 
wasted. As the act is expression of the man, so is the 
life the expression of the character. And so is the 
character the key to the life. The only sequences that 
never fail are the spiritual truths. " All that we are is 
the result of what we have thought." Water rises to 
its own level, say the engineers, and what is true of 
water is as true of the mind of man. One step gained 
in mastery finds a million applications. As high as we 
have climbed on this mountain, so high shall we at- 
tain, without rest or hindrance, on every height 
whereon our feet shall be set. The man ruling an 
empire may be doing nothing more in reality than re- 
acting the part he played in the games of his child- 
hood. A Wellington, in his babyhood, rights all the 
battles of the future with his wooden soldiers. Even 
so one who has once found the secret of unity will 
never rest, in any birth, till he has reached once more, 
through the material he finds about him there, as 
deep a view. 
How marvellous are the potentialities of humanity ! 
There is no man so mean or servile but hides within 
himself the possibility of the Infinite. The ultimate 
fact in the world is man, not power: the ultimate 
fact in man is God. Therefore let all men believe in 
themselves. To all men let us say Be strong. Quit 
ye like men. Work out that which worketh in you. 
Believe in yourselves. For he that asketh, receiveth ; 
he that seeketh findeth, and to him that knocketh, it 
shall be opened. The whole past is in every man of 
us. At any moment may the Supreme Light shine 
through me. At any moment may my personal be- 
come the hand, the lips, of That Impersonal. Why 
then should I be weak, either in taking or in losing ? 
Am I not the Infinite Itself? Of whom and of what 
should I be afraid ? Henceforth do I cast aside plead- 
ing and prayer. Henceforth do I throw away all 
hope, all fear, all desire, all shame. Contented am I 
to be a man, and that alone. For I know that if I be 
not that, verily even the jewels of the king and robes 
of state shall not hide my shame, nor the rags of the 
beggar detract from the glory of my manhood, if I 
have it. 
THERE is a vast difference between the human being 
who lives his life like a mouse or a mole from 
moment to moment, and sensation to sensation, and 
the man who lives for an idea. Even a mistaken idea 
is infinitely higher than the life of the senses. Even 
the poorest of those who strive to walk in the footsteps 
of the saints is higher than the man, however grandiose 
his expression, however demonic his energy, whose 
life is limited to self, with its interests and pleasures. 
We must never allow mere size to impose upon us. 
Discrimination is the glow of spirituality upon each 
of the virtues. Without discrimination, man is no 
better than an animal, whatever the form that his 
animal comforts may take. 
Youth admires careless and lavish giving. It thinks 
the man who sometimes refuses a gift, for a reason he 
will not tell, neither so great nor so generous as he 
who empties his pockets at the first chance call. The 
Gita, on the contrary, tells us that ideal charity is 
rightly timed and placed, and offered only to the 
proper person. It is evident that the gift, given with 
discrimination, is higher than the mere largesse, which 
never looks at the recipient, or foresees any one of its 
own effects. 
In the same way, it is the level of our general dis- 
crimination, between mind and flesh, idea and sense, 
that determines, on the large scale, our rank as human 
beings. The Bible tells how a certain king made a 
golden image of himself and set it up for all the world 
to worship. And that same monarch, a little later, 
under the spell of mania, went out into the fields to 
eat grass with the cattle ! The dazzling idealism of 
self covered the grossest animality. It was the same 
man who one day propounded a new religion, and the 
next crawled on all-fours ! The poorest and lowest 
who is sincerely striving for unselfishness, for self- 
control, and to give love, is greater than this. That 
is why the real helpers of mankind have been unable 
to preach anything less than this ultimate truth. The 
difference between man and man lies, not in pos- 
sessions, or in the positions they have achieved, or in 
the power they wield, but in the degree of their self- 
control, and in that alone. 
" By any means catching hold of things" said Sri 
Ramakrishna, " make your way out of the world." 
Let us not forget this " catching hold." No religious 
man ought to think his behaviour in the world a 
matter of no consequence. Religion is not confined 
to Sddhands. Tapasya is not a matter of the thakur- 
ghar alone. Every great idea that presents itself in 
the secular sphere is a form of God calling for our 
worship. Shall we range ourselves with it, or against 
it? The answer makes no difference to God, no 
difference to the truth, but it constitutes a judgment 
day of the soul. It makes all the difference in the 
world to us. Every day, every act, every question 
that arises, is a judgment day. Life is one long test. 
To each little act we bring the whole weight of our 
character. Each act leaves us either stronger or 
weaker. It adds to or takes from our ultimate worth. 
Spirituality does not arise by accident. Only in a 
temple long and carefully builded of well-hewn blocks, 
can the image of universal and eternal truth be placed. 
Only where truth has been sought in all things, can 
the lamp of Truth be lighted in the soul. Discrimina- 
tion in every act of life makes for that last dis- 
crimination that is eternal bliss. 
THE Eternal Faith holds up as the Ideal that there 
shall be fitness in every thought and action, over and 
above the goodness that it expresses. In this way, 
amongst others, the Mother Church labours to impress 
upon us the necessity of thought, of knowledge, of in- 
tellectual maturity. Learning is as necessary to the 
Hindu faith as prayer the only religious doctrine in 
the world that has no quarrel with truth, wherever it 
may be found, or wherever it may be. Think of it ! 
Other religions may tolerate science, or persons within 
their fold may see that they owe a duty to themselves 
or to knowledge; but Hinduism requires it. Like the 
clear welling-forth of water from a deep spring should 
be the thought of great Hindu thinkers. 
Alas, the very absence of resistance is apt to take 
away the force of activity! Europe is full of great 
scholars. How many have we ? Yet look at the dif- 
ference ! In Europe the whole world, and especially 
the priesthood, barked and yelped at the heels of 
Charles Darwin for twenty years. Even to-day, one 
will hear a sneer from the pulpit levelled against Buckle 
or Lecky. Every priest feels secretly that there is an 
antagonism between his cause and that of the unfet- 
tered historian or critic : in India, such fears are re- 
ferred to as " sectarianism." But the very attack on 
truth is a war-cry calling the young to rally to its de- 
fence. We all know the story of the captain sent with 
his thirty-three men, to deliver terms of surrender to 
Hasan and Hussain, who, his message done, ranged 
himself and his followers under their banner, though 
for them the result could be nothing but death. In 
all ages it is the same. Truth is its own propaganda. 
Humanity is ever accessible to the Absolute. The 
thing which we conceive to be true, we cannot but 
embrace, though disaster, suffering and death be our 
portion with it. Therefore attack is better than for- 
getfulness ; contumely is better than silence ; persecu- 
tion is better than worship ; if only with all these the 
idea be kept constantly before the mind. 
"When our country is unfortunate," said a European 
the other day, " the>duty of the individual is to renounce 
his own career, and work for her only." What the 
speaker meant, was the personal career, the work that 
brings happiness, wealth, and position. Devotion to 
the impersonal idea often creates a career, but it is one 
for which we pay heavily in poverty, hard work, and 
sometimes final catastrophe and failure. Only the ap- 
prehension of some infinite good to be attained by this, 
for ourselves or for others, could nerve us to such a 
choice. For this, we have to wake in ourselves the 
great appetites. The sannyasin thirsts for renunciation. 
Let us so thirst for knowledge, for truth, for justice or 
for strength. Let us long to help and to save, even as 
children in the dark cry out for help. Realizing that 
only by the laborious climb towards the highest we per- 
ceive, can we be wholly helpful, let us work, work, work, 
to reach the Absolute Good in whatever path we seek 
to make our own. And above all, let us pray ever the 
ancient prayer of the Hebrew Scriptures " Show Thy 
servants Thy work, O Lord, and their children Thy 
glory ! " 
But while the appetite grows strong in us, let us not 
be content with the first satisfaction that comes to our 
hand. Headstrong activity makes bitterness of failure. 
How often do we meet the man who wails and wrings 
his hands, because his efforts for the good of the world 
are not immediately rewarded ! This is not true charity. 
This is but impulse, full of tamas. Long work, long 
thought, long growth of wisdom, are necessary, ere that 
man can strike the blows that count. And for such 
wisdom, we must have experience, and for such expe- 
rience, again, work. 
" Sharp as the blade of a razor, long and distant, 
And the way so hard to find ! 
Such the sages have declared it. 
Yet do not despair ! Awake ! Arise ! 
Struggle on ! and stop not till the goal is reached ! " 
THE true teacher knows that no one can really aid an- 
other. No one can rightly do for another what that other 
ought to do for himself. All that we can do is to stim- 
ulate him to help himself, and remove from his path the 
real obstacles to his doing so. 
The taught, moreover, must develop along his own 
path. He must advance towards his own end No 
one can develop along another's road, in order to reach 
that other's goal. The first need of the teacher, there- 
fore, is to enter into the consciousness of the taught, to 
understand where he is and towards what he is pro- 
gressing. Without this, there can be no lesson. 
The act of education must always be initiated by the 
taught, not by the teacher. Some spontaneous action 
of the mind or body of the learner gives the signal, and 
the wise teacher takes advantage of this, in accordance 
with known laws of mind, in order to develop the power 
of action further. If however there is no initial activity 
of the pupil, the lesson might as well be given to wood 
or brick. Education or evolution must always begin 
with some spontaneous self-activity. 
The laws of thought are definite. Mental action is 
not erratic or incalculable, a gust here, a whirlwind 
there. No : thought is always the outcome of concrete 
experience. A given sequence and intensity of action 
finding form and application on subtler and finer planes 
of reality, is thought. And just as water rises to its 
own level, so all our past determines the height to which 
our unresting thought shall wing its way. Inevitable 
is its rise so far, but at what infinite cost of toil and 
faith is won the next few feet of ascent in the clear 
atmosphere of knowledge ! 
To those who are accustomed to think in this way, 
the doctrine of reincarnation becomes a necessity. It 
is impossible to extinguish a mind, impossible to ar- 
rest the cycles of thought. The same force, the same 
knowledge will go on eternally finding new expressions. 
Or it will deepen and intensify. It cannot be destroyed. 
But it can be lost. It can be forgotten. Man is ever 
divine, ever the embodied Atman of the Universe. But 
he can lose sight of his high heritage, and though its 
potentiality may remain with him ever, as a possibility 
of recovery, yet in tilling the fields or scouring the 
cooking-pots its actuality may have vanished. 
Spirituality comes to one soul at a time. Intellectual 
labour prepares the soil of millions for the whispers of 
truth. Intellect is the open door to the socializing of 
great realization. Therefore is mental toil a duty. 
Right belief is a duty. The highest achievements of 
the mind are a Sddhana. We must be true to Truth. 
We must be greedy of wide views. Education to the 
utmost of which we are capable is the first of human 
rights. It was not the form of his knowledge but its 
selflessness, that made man a rishi. That man who 
has followed any kind of knowledge to its highest point 
is a rishi. If he had cared for money or pleasure, he 
could not have spent himself on labour that might have 
ended in nothing. If he had wanted name or fame, he 
would have gone far enough to tell what the world 
wanted to hear, and there he would have stopped. But 
he went to the utmost. This was because he wanted 
truth. The man who sees truth directly is a jndni. 
This truth may take the form of geography. Elisee 
Reclus, writing his Universal Geography, and trying to 
give his highest results to the working-men of Brussels, 
was zjndni, as truly as any saint who ever lived. His 
knowledge was for the sake of knowledge : his enjoy- 
ment of his knowledge was selfless : and when he died 
the modern world lost a saint. The truth may take the 
form of history or science, or the study of society. 
Would any one who has read the " Origin of Species," 
deny to Charles Darwin the place of a great sage ? 
Kropotkin, living in a workman's cottage in England, 
and working breathlessly to help men to new forms of 
mutual aid, is he not one of the apostles ? 
It is in India, aided by the doctrine of Advaita, that 
we ought to know better than in any other land the 
value of all this. Here alone does our religion itself 
teach us that not only that which is called God IS Good. 
It is the vision of Unity that is the goal, and any path 
by which man may reach to this is a religion. Thus 
the elements of mathematics are to the full as sacred 
as the stanzas of the Mahabharata. A knowledge of 
physics is as holy as a knowledge of the Shastras. 
The truths of historical science are as desirable as the 
beliefs of tradition. 
In order to manifest this great ideal of the Sanathan 
Dharma, we must try to set alight once more amongst 
us the fires of lofty intellectual ambitions. The great 
cannot be destroyed, but it can be obscured by the 
little. We must fight against this. We must remem- 
ber the passion of those who seek truth for its own sake. 
They cannot stop short in learning. Did any ever stop 
short in the struggle for spirituality, saying now he had 
enough ? Such a man was never a seeker of spirituality. 
The same is true of all intellectual pursuits. The man 
who has ever experienced the thirst for knowledge, can 
never stop short. If one step has been taken purely, 
he can never again rest till he has attained. 
We cannot be satisfied, therefore, till our society has 
produced great minds in every branch of human activ- 
ity. Advaita can be expressed in mechanics, in en- 
gineering, in art, in letters as well as in philosophy 
and meditation. But it can never be expressed in 
half-measures. The true Advaitin is the master of the 
world. He does not know a good deal of his chosen sub- 
ject : he knows all there is to be known. He does not 
perform his particular task fairly well : he does it as well 
as it is possible to do it. In the little he sees the great. 
In the pupil whom he teaches, he sees the nation and 
Humanity. In the act he sees the principle. In the 
new thought he finds himself nearer truth itself. 
We are men, not animals. We are minds, not 
bodies. Our life is thought and realization, not food 
and sleep. All the ages of man those of the Vedas 
and the heroes, as well as our own small lives are in 
the moment called now. All this do I claim as mine. 
On this infinite power do I take my stand. I desire 
knowledge for its own sake, therefore I want all know- 
ledge. I would serve Humanity for the sake of serving. 
Therefore must I cast out all selfishness. Am I not a 
son of the Indian sages ? Am I not an Advaitin ? 
WHEN the doctrines of Hinduism can be formulated 
with sufficient breadth and clearness, it will doubtless 
be found that they furnish a key to the laws of thought 
in all directions. For the emancipation of man by his 
induction into constantly widening ideas is the real 
motive of Hindu speculation, and is the unspoken 
effort in every scheme of learning the world over. 
The source of Buddhism in Hinduism is nowhere better 
illustrated than in the opening words of the Dham- 
mapada : " All that we are is the result of what we 
have thought. It is founded on our thoughts. It is 
made up of our thoughts." In all the world, only an 
Indian thinker would have dreamed of basing a re- 
ligious system on this solitary truth. 
In the great body of observations which have be- 
come current in India as religious doctrines, none is 
more interesting or more difficult to unravel than that 
which deals with Guru-bhakti. That in order to reach 
a given idea, one must hold the mind passive to the 
teacher of that idea, at the same time that one offers 
him personal service, is a truth which has only to be 
tested to be believed. But we shall make a mistake 
if we think that it applies only to religious teaching, just 
as we shall make an equal mistake if we call a man 
77 6 
our guru for the simple reason that he teaches us a 
series of facts which have a religious colour. 
We must turn a receptive attitude to all truth. We 
must be respectful to all from whom we learn. Age, 
rank, and relationship ought all to constitute claims on 
our deference, but nothing should win from us the deep 
passivity that we yield to character and learning. 
Amongst all who teach us there will be one whose 
own personality is his greatest lesson. He, and he 
alone, is the Guru. He alone represents that particu- 
lar path along which our own experience is to lead us. 
But in everything that we make our own, even the 
most secular knowledge, we must constantly remem- 
ber the source from which we received it. Every one 
that we meet must appear before us as a possible giver 
of knowledge. We should be on the watch for the 
realizations that each man has been able to reach. 
Thus a habit of attentiveness, respect for the knowledge 
and opinions of others, and an expectation of new 
truth, are all marks of one who is accustomed to mix 
in cultivated society. Nor can there possibly be a 
greater mark of vulgarity and want of fine associations 
than self-opinionatedness and forgetfulness of seniority 
in ideas. 
Temptations to such errors meet young men at every 
step in a generation that takes up a new idea. The 
fact that they have departed from the paths of their 
fathers blinds them to the other fact that outside the 
special point of departure their fathers are apt to have 
greater wisdom than they ; that even in the new idea 
itself they have their own elders and betters ; that in 

any case, the idea is not worth much if it cannot deepen

their appreciation of social cohesion and of the older 
culture they have left. Yet by such heedlessness and 
loss of delicacy a youth only succeeds in shutting the 
doors of fine society against himself. He is tried 
once, and allowed thenceforward to associate with his 
inferiors. His superiors find him intolerable. A 
young man with a hearty belief in his own leadership, 
is a social nuisance. The great impulses are calling 
for disciples, for martyrs, for trembling self-devoted 
service in which eagerness and humility bear equal 
parts. Those who are ready to offer themselves as 
leaders can be hired behind any counter or in any 
barrack. True leaders, we may understand once for 
all, are made, not born. They are made out of faith- 
ful followers. By much service, by deep and humble 
apprehension, let us hasten to their making. 
The Guru puts us in touch with all that Humanity 
has yet reached in a given line. Through him, we 
enter into life spiritual and intellectual, as through our 
parents we received the human body. He represents 
to us all that, up to his time, could be known. It 
follows that the first of his qualifications was an un- 
usual power of learning. 
The real object of universities is to train the student 
to learn. The fine intellectual leader is he who learns 
most from a given circumstance. The power of pas- 
sivity is the highest mark of education. This passivity, 
however, is not stupid or inert. It was not Arjuna 
alone who listened to Sri Krishna. His touch was felt 
and his words were heard by the delighted horses also. 
Nor must we forget that the sound-waves which make 
the Gita impinged upon the chariot itself. Chariot, 
horses, and man, all heard, but was there no difference 
between their three forms of passivity? Nay, two men 
will themselves hear differently. Nothing is more 
crude than an ill-timed activity. But the passivity that 
marks our advance is intensive, not idle, and contains 
within itself the fruit of all our struggles in the past. 
It is the power of the Guru that is the force behind 
our realization. Whatever be the line of our effort, it 
would amount to very little if we had to go out into 
the wilderness and begin all over again, as isolated 
hints, the discoveries of man. Any significance that 
we have comes from our place at the end of the ages, 
our place at the dawning of to-morrow. This place is 
given us by our solidarity with the Guru, and by no- 
thing else. The more we know, the more infinitesimal 
will our own contributions to human knowledge appear 
to us. The more we know, the more will history speak 
to us in trumpet-tones, the more full of meaning will 
the acts of great men become to us, the more shall we 
see ourselves to be striving with difficulty to see as our 
leader saw, to be making only a new attempt on his 
On the other hand, the Guru makes no demands. 
The gift of discipleship is free. The Guru indicates 
the ideal. There is a vast difference between this 
and the attempt to enslave. Nay, there is none 
who so strives to give the freedom in which ideals grow 
and ripen as does the Guru. The disciple's devotion 
is for ever out-stripping anything that could be asked 
of it. In his own time the Guru ends personal service 
and proclaims the impersonal mission. But this is of 
his doing and not of his pupil's seeking. 
The Guru's achievement is the disciple's strength, 
and this though it be the common ideal that is followed 
by both. Better to be no man's son than an original 
genius without root or ancestry in the world of the 
spirit. Quickly, how quickly, shall such wither away ! 
They wither, and the men who set limits to their own 
offering never strike root. Which of these two is the 
deeper condemnation ? 
OF all forms of ignorance, few are at once so mean 
and so easy to fall into as that of self-idealism. How 
often, instead of aspiring upwards, we are merely 
worshipping our own past ! Almost all good people 
are conscious of a great intensity of power and devo- 
tion in early youth. They are very apt to look back, 
for ever after, on the outside form which their life took 
at that period, and try all their lives to force that par- 
ticular form on others. True freedom is a thing of 
which very few of us have ever caught a glimpse. 
Self-idealism is a very special danger at the present 
time. This is a period of the recapture of ideals. 
We are always diving into the past in order to recover 
the thread of our own development. We exalt the 
name we bear. We praise our own ancestors. We 
seem to laud ourselves up to the skies. All this, how- 
ever, is meant for encouragement, not for conceit. 
" Children of the rishis!" exclaims a great orator to 
the crowd before him ; but if some common man de- 
rives from this the idea that he is a riski, he shows his 
own tamas, and nothing more. This was not the re- 
action intended by the orator. 
Similarly, when we say that Christ represents in 
Europe the Asiatic man, we mean the ideal of Asia, 
not any chance individual on the pavement. We must 
be careful to think clearly in this matter. Many 
persons propose for three hundred millions of people 
that they should practise the methods of Jesus, of 
Chaitanya, of Tukaram, and nothing, they say, could 
resist them. 
Nothing could resist them ! Of course not, if each 
one of us were a Chaitanya, or a Jesus ! " As a sheep 
before her shearers is dumb, so He opened not His 
mouth," said the prophet of the Christ. But is our 
silence so eloquent as this ? Only tamas makes this 
mistake ! The methods of Christ will not bring the 
victory of Christ to the man who is not Christ ! In him 
the dumbness of the sheep is mere sheepishness, not 
Again says the tdmasic : ' ' Let me wait for the victory, 
then, till I am like Him ! " Very good, if self-engross- 
ment were the way to become so. But unfortunately 
for you, it is not ! Only the man who forgets himself, 
for the victory, can ever reach Christhood. Buddha 
died for smaller ends five hundred times, before it was 
possible for Him to become the Buddha ! Each time 
He forgot Himself, forgot life, forgot death, became 
merged in the struggle, without a thought beyond. 
In the end He had earned the empire of the world, and 
had to renounce the certainty of that in order to mount 
the step beyond that made Him the vessel of com- 
passion to the soul. 
Each man has his own stepping-stones across the 
river of Maya. From stone to stone, one step at a 
time, we go. Our whole soul must be in the next step. 
Not for most of us to reach the Absolute now : for 
most of us only the immediate end, whatever it be, 
and for that, to forget self! Only through action 
can we rise to that which is beyond action. The world 
is full of causes for which a man may give his all. 
Ladders of rope by which we may draw ourselves up 
to the Mukti at present out of sight. Many souls, 
many planes ; not for all souls a single gospel. Only 
through all runs the great law : by renunciation alone, 
by forgetfulhess of self, does man rise to the Supreme 
If we really forget self, any good-not-our-own will 
appeal to us. The good of others as an end in itself 
will become an appetite in us. We shall spend no time 
arguing as to theories and ideals, methods and plans. 
We shall live for the good of others ; we shall merge 
ourselves in the struggle. The battle, the soldier, and 
the enemy will become one. Ours only the right to 
action, ours never the fruit of action ! 
But not as having already attained ! Ages of strenu- 
ous activity are the opportunity of many to reach God- 
consciousness. We pant for the ordeal, we thirst for 
active service not that we are already fit, but that by 
facing the cannon's mouth we may become fit. " By 
pouring himself like an oblation on the fire of battle, 
by remaining unterrified in moments of great terror, 
has Duryodhana attained to this felicity!" How 
knightly is the commendation ! How heroic the path ! 
" Things are not bettered, but we are bettered, by 
making changes in them," said the Swami Viveka- 
So the world is a school, a gymnasium for the soul. 
Humanity is not a great hall of mirrors, in which a 
single figure is reflected again and again, here well, and 
badly there. God yearns to achieve Himself supremely, 
and differently, in each one of us. All that we may 
take from the pattern-lives is the law that guided them, 
the aim for which they toiled. Renunciation ! Re- 
nunciation ! Renunciation ! In the panoply of renun- 
ciation plunge thou into the ocean of the unknown. 
Accept the exigencies of thy time, the needs of thy 
place, as the material out of which the soul is to build 
its own boat for the great journey. Think not that it 
can copy exactly any that has gone before. To them, 
look only for the promise that where they have suc- 
ceeded thou shalt not utterly fail. Then build, and 
launch. Set out to find Thyself ! And let thy going- 
forth be as a blaze of encouragement to those who have 
yet to depart ! 
THE time has come when the Great Lives that have 
been lived in our midst are beginning to be recorded 
and written down for transmission to posterity. We 
can form some idea at this moment of the treasure 
that has been granted to the present generation, for 
which many in ages to come will long to have been 
here, or even to have looked upon the faces of those 
who possess such memories as ours. As we read, we 
belong at once to those who have seen, and to those 
who merely hear. We can share the feelings of both, 
at one and the same time. 
In reading the Life of Sri Ramakrishna, one is first 
struck with his reverence for his own realization. Re- 
alization is the end and object of his life. Then he 
takes pains to protect and keep it. Yet he has so 
much ! And we, who have so little, what do we do, to 
cherish that little ? 
It is told how he was one morning gathering flowers 
for the temple-worship, when it suddenly flashed upon 
his mind that the whole earth was a vast altar, and the 
flowers blossoming on the plants were already offered 
in worship at the feet of God. Sri Ramakrishna never 
again gathered puja-flowers. 
What sacrifices do we make for the glimpses of 
thought and revelation that come to us ? Every pilgrim 
after making a tirtha practises some abstinence in 
memory of the great journey. What memorials do 
we set up of the journeys of the soul ? When the 
abstinence comes to notice once more, in the daily 
round, the pilgrim is reminded of the interior experi- 
ence. He is wafted for a moment into the Divine 
Presence. So Sri Ramakrishna, looking at the flowers 
he would not pluck, was kept ever in the mood of that 
most vivid realization, renewing and deepening it from 
day to day. With us, the hurry and pressure of the 
little things of life soon crushes out of sight the great 
moments of the soul's life. It is the little things that 
matter to us, not the great ! Why should the higher 
realizations be granted to us, seeing that we have so 
little room for them ? Only at the end of long long 
struggle do we gain the least flash of knowledge. And 
when gained, what value do we place upon it ? How 
long are we true to it ? Verily, the lives of most of us 
are very like the footsteps of a man who climbs in slid- 
ing sand ! What we gain we lose immediately, and, 
caught by new interests, are not even conscious that any- 
thing has happened ! 
No man can altogether escape the life of the soul. 
This is not the dominant, it is actually the only reality 
that surrounds us. The veil of the senses cannot fail 
to wear thin at times. We have but to set open the 
door and God streams in on every side. It is our ab- 
sorption in the broken and contorted sun-rays of the 
body that hides from our eyes the Undifferentiated 
Light ! When we become passive to it, when we al- 
low it to shine upon us, when we are willing to make 
room for the One behind manifoldness, then we may 
find that the soul's life shapes all things. Life or death, 
happiness or sorrow, and the far greater destiny of 
knowledge or ignorance, are all determined by the 
spiritual energy. To this alone all else is plastic. By 
it all else is to be measured and interpreted. But there 
arises not only the question " What has one learnt?" 
but also that other, " What sacrifice has been made to 
keep this knowledge?" 
" LOVE as principle, Order as basis, and Progress as 
end." In these words a great modern teacher Au- 
guste Comte sums up his aspirations for human 
society. By him, with his view limited to the condi- 
tions of a single hemisphere, the idea of progress is 
postulated instinctively. The doubt of the East, that 
there could be any such thing in the end as progress, 
has>not occurred to Comte. " Progress as end," appears 
to him an absolute truth. This is one of the more 
spiritual temptations of materialism, and of materialistic 
civilizations. When men have craved to place the end 
in happiness, or pleasure, or desire, then they are apt 
to declare that opportunity, that education, that ameli- 
oration of things themselves is the end. " Work for 
Humanity" sounds very grand as a declaration of one's 
object in life. 
Here the pitiless analysis of the East comes in. Is 
Humanity, then, to be eternally in want of service ? 
Is my beatitude to demand, as its essential condition, 
another's necessity? Is civilization capable, in any 
case, of expressing the infinite capacity, satisfying the 
infinite love, of the soul ? Obviously, the service of 
man. apprehended as a motive in itself, is nevertheless 
only a means to an end, and that end is to be measured 
by the individual consciousness, not by anything outside. 
In other words, there is not ultimately such a thing as 
"social progress." This is an absolute truth. Let 
this never blind us, however, to the fact that, rela- 
tively to our own place in it, " social progress " is a very 
very real fact indeed. 
For those in the life of the world, the aspiration 
after progress is a true and right aspiration. The world 
is a school for the soul. It is true there is a life be- 
yond school, but this is best lived by him who has been 
faithful, heart and soul, in the life of the school, its work, 
its play, and its characteristic illusions. The Grihas- 
thdshrama is the school of Sannyas. It is not the 
loose-living citizen who will make the noble sadhu. 
Quite the reverse. 
Again, there is no absolute progress, perhaps, regis- 
tered by Humanity as a whole. In the West, the 
progress of material luxury in one class is accompanied 
by the progress of poverty and degradation in another. 
The rise of Europe goes hand in hand with the decay 
of Asia. Apparent good is balanced by manifest evil, 
gain shadowed by a corresponding loss. Yes, but this 
very fact is in itself a battle-cry. There is no final 
progress, but there is oscillation of appearances. The 
rise of Europe cannot go on for ever, and neither can 
the decay of Asia. It is by contrast with its opposite 
that each gains momentum. If fall were not changed 
into ascent, by the energy of those falling, where would 
the power come from, for the counter-rise, later, of the 
opposite hemisphere ? 
Humanity is one, and each part of it is necessary to 
all. The constructive ability of the Roman has as 
much meaning for the Hindu as the power and insight 
of the Upanishads have to-day for the Teuton. Rela- 
tively to space and time, Progress is a truth ; and our 
most imperative duty is to live for it. 
ALL the Incarnations have talked of Work. What 
else did they come for, but to serve mankind ? It had 
been far easier for them to have remained in the utter- 
most Bliss. By their eyes was seen at all times the 
vision of One-ness. Why should they plunge into 
manifoldness, and renounce the great joy, save by 
momentary flashes ? It was all for man. It was all 
that others might reach their side. It was all that 
many might be made rich, even though the method 
should be by making themselves poor. Oh beautiful 
lives of the Avatars and Prophets ! Wondrous mercy of 
the saints and teachers ! How are we to make our- 
selves worthy of our union with you ? 
There is but one answer, it is by Work. By strip- 
ping ourselves of ease, of privilege, of leisure. By 
emptying ourselves of self. By working for others, for 
ideas, and ideals. " As the ignorant fight, from selfish 
motives, so must we fight unselfishly." Our struggle 
must be as intense as that of the meanest miser. We 
must labour for the good of others as the drowning 
man clutches at a straw. There must be as much 
energy thrown into our renunciation as into most men's 
How true is the monk to his vow ! How he dreads 
the possibility of a fall ! How unlimited are the sacri- 
WORK 93 
fices he dreams of, if only he may be found faithful at 
the last ! Equally must we tremble and shrink from 
cowardice, from compromise, from failure in the task 
that has been laid upon us. Well has it been told us, 
by those who know life, that the world has no hell 
like that of having betrayed a trust that was laid 
upon us. 
Do we desire above all things to fulfil our own ideal 
of integrity? Then what room is there for com- 
promise ? A compromise represents a mean found 
between opposite desires. If we have but one desire, 
what motive is there for compromise ? Let each of us 
swear to himself that he will have nothing to do with 
any half-following, with lip-service, with weak-kneed- 
ness, and facing-both-ways. Let us throw our lives 
away, freely, gladly, as a very little thing. We would 
give fifty, if we had them, with the same royal glee. 
Let us be true to our work. Our task is our swa- 
dharma. " Better for each man is his swadharma, how- 
ever faulty his performance, than the task of another, 
though he could do it easily." That thing which faces 
me and frightens me ; that very thing that seems the 
one most difficult ; that beyond which I dare not look 
, there let me embrace Death ! 
"Right for ever on the scaffold?" asks Russell 
Lowell, "wrong for ever on the throne?" And then 
he bursts into his own answer : 
" But that scaffold sways the future ! and, behind the dim unknown, 
Standeth GOD within the shadow, keeping watch above His Own ! " 
It is a grand gospel this doctrine of fearlessness, of 
courage, of self-conquest. Arise, thou Great Divinity 
that liest hidden within us ! In Thy name, all things 
are possible to us ! Making victory and defeat the 
same, plunge we into battle ! 
But how are we to fight ? Most of us, by work. 
The world's work is the great Sddhand, wherein we 
accumulate character, by which, when the time comes, 
we can rise even into the Nirvikalpa Samddhi itself. 
Character is self-restraint. Self-restraint is self-direc- 
tion. Self-direction is concentration. Concentration 
when perfect is Samddhi. From perfect work to per- 
fect Mukti. This is the swing of the soul. Let us then 
be perfect in work ! 
THROUGHOUT history we may meet with instances of 
the poisonous effect on the human mind of ideas with- 
out work. The struggle with material conditions is 
eternally necessary to the upward growth of the spirit. 
When Karma has been exhausted, and the moment of 
enlightenment is at hand, this condition also must be 
held to have been transcended. But as things are, 
there are very very few of the human race on the earth 
at any one time for whom it is not essential that the 
whole strength should be thrown into concrete effort, 
into concentrated struggle, with the world about them. 
Only by this can there be progress in the idea itself. 
Only through this can there be growth of apprehension. 
Work then is as necessary to the growth of the soul 
as is the Vedanta : perhaps more so. And work is at all 
times within our own power. The bhakta practises the 
ceremonies of worship. Work is the puja which a man 
offers to that Great Power which is manifested as 
The idea, thought of as mere words, leads irretriev- 
ably to scholasticism and verbiage. Most serious of 
intellectual vices is a hair-splitting metaphysic. This 
may indicate the potentiality, but it can never be an 
actual manifestation of the power, of a mind. Left to 
run its own course, it proves the beginning of mental 
and moral disintegration. It has to be corrected and 
restrained, step by step, by the conscientious endeavour 
for the practical realization of ideas and ideals. 
The world has known many great ages of faith. 
They have not, for the most part, been ages of inaction. 
The thirteenth' century in Europe tended too much, it 
is true, to argument ; but it was also the century of the 
building of splendid churches. Most of the finest of 
the cathedrals took their birth then. Similarly in India 
we are apt to overlook these truly great ages because 
they are not marked by the flames of war or the crash 
of falling dynasties. But the ages of faith are in truth 
the constructive ages, the ages of growth, of arts and 
industries, of the spread of education and the crafts. 
Great faith is above all things the concomitant and 
support of mighty action. 
Again the trumpet-blast of truth has been sounded 
in our midst. Once more is our country waking up 
to that renewed apprehension of her religious wealth 
which has been the forerunner of every great impulse 
known to our history. The time may seem to us slow 
in coming, but it will assuredly arrive, when the influx 
of Indian thought upon the modern consciousness will 
seem to historians and critics the great event of these 
passing centuries. 
Meanwhile, what of us ? Are we to give the rich 
stores of our past, are we to enrich the world, and re- 
main ourselves poverty-stricken and bare? If not, 
how shall we escape ? If not, what must our course 
be? Our course must be REALIZATION THROUGH 
WORK. To the metaphysics of our theology has already 
succeeded the race-course of modern science. We have 
to throw ourselves upon this, and win our guerdon there. 
This is the task of our race in the world, to prove the 
authenticity and grandeur of the ancient Indian wisdom, 
by proving the soundness and genuineness of the Indian 
mind itself, in that sphere of inquiry which the Time- 
Spirit has now opened up to all nations alike. 
Amongst ourselves, however, there is another, and 
equally arduous duty. We have to share our knowledge 
as we gain it. This is the Sadhana that will make our 
reading real. This is the practice that will turn it from 
mere words into actual knowledge. This is the struggle, 
sanative, concentrated, all-absorbing, that will give us 
new spiritual muscle, and add wings to our feet. 
ALL large systems of culture, of thought, of polity, 
need " beacon-lives," as they have been called, in 
which for a moment the innermost ideals of the com- 
munal aspiration are made real and visible to every 
man's understanding. And where the heart of a 
people is true and sincere in its striving, the great 
souls come. It was a critical moment in American 
history when the man Abraham Lincoln stood at the 
helm and embodied the national ideals. America 
may not always remain true to those ideals. She 
may seem to betray them in strangely complex ways. 
Yet nevertheless, freedom and democracy are her 
ideals, and no disaster that could befall her would be 
comparable in extent to loss of faith in her own sin- 
cerity in desiring to realize them. 
The man who has thus lost faith in his own or his 
people's sincerity is known as a cynic. He stands 
aside and sneers at all effort, because it is bound to 
involve mistakes. He laughs at all feeling, because 
to his wisdom it appears childish. He makes light of 
prayer and hope, because he deems them to be hy- 
pocrisy. The cynic is the canker-worm of the cor- 
porate life. He openly avows his preference of selfish 
to unselfish ends and believes himself the greater for 
it. In ages of division and mutual antagonism cynics 
abound. In ages of great and united enthusiasm 
they cease to be. This is why large civic movements 
are necessary to the health of nations, whatever be 
the ends proposed by the movements in question. In 
the rush and flow of the mighty current, the emotionally 
poor, the morally barren, those who would, without 
it, have been cynics are swept up and carried on to 
ports that alone they could never have attempted to 
reach. Humanity is not yet wholly individuated. 
The crowd does not act as many : it acts as one, with 
a common heart and common mind. Nothing is 
more important than the power to form a single part 
of the great instrument, beating true at each step to 
its central impulse, apprehending what is to the 
interest of the whole, recoiling as by instinct from 
its insult or its hurt. 
But this is a power which belongs wholly to the 
heart. The man who has it is like a little child, and 
because he is so, enters into his kingdom of heaven. 
He has never questioned the fact that there are in the 
world about him greater ends than his own good. 
He strives for more ends. Let the wise and prudent 
say what they will. He knows himself for a single 
brick in the great wall that is to be built, a single 
stone in the cairn to be heaped up. And where there 
is one man thus selfless, thousands more will come. 
The same causes that brought him into being will 
create his brethren. 
The same unity holds good, as between guru and 
disciples, between leader and followers. The great 
gurus reach the vision of unity : their disciples struggle 
to attain it, by the conquest of manifoldness. But all 
these are one. The lowest of the saved is as much a 
part of the church as the highest of the saviours. In 
Vivekananda, for instance, Hinduism attains the real- 
ization of Mukti. And in the meanest task-man who 
follows him sincerely in the daily routine, she merely 
passes to the other extreme of the swing of the 
pendulum. The two are one. Their vision is one. 
Sincerity is the thread of their union, the sincerity 
and childlike whole-hearted ness of both. 
Thus we are all one. To each man his own deed 
should be as sacred and as pure as to the yogi the 
meditation at nightfall. Is it English or Persian, is 
it chemistry or manufacture, that we would study ? 
Whatever it be, it is holy. All work is holy. All 
deeds are revelations. All knowledge is Veda. There 
is no difference between secular and sacred. The 
modern history of India is as much a part of religion 
as the ancient. What ! Shall Bharata be a figure in 
the Shdstras, and the kings and leaders of public 
opinion to-day move outside? Not so. We are one. 
The highest and lowest of us, one. The oldest and 
most modern, one. Time is one. God is one. There 
was never a moment holier than the present. There 
was never a deed more worthy than that which I am 
set to do, be it weaving, or sweeping, or the keeping 
of accounts, or the study of the Vedas, or the struggle 
of meditation, ay, or the blow to be struck with the 
bared fist. Let my own life express the utmost that 
is known to me. However hard be the attempt let 
me essay the thing I think right. However bold be 
the effort required, let no great thing call to me in 
vain. I shall fail. Ah yes ! My failure is the one 
THE POWER OF FAiJtf- : .: :' '-ib 
thing certain. But let me reverence my own failure ! 
I have the right to fail. Only by failure upon failure 
can I win success. 
The world about us is sacred. It becomes unreal 
only when we have found a greater reality beyond it. 
Till then, it is of infinite moment that we should deal 
with it in manly fashion. Not succumbing to self- 
interest ; not bribed by vanity or comfort ; not en- 
slaved by the mean ideals ; so let us push on to the 
greatest that we know. And falling by the way, as 
most of us will fall, let us know that the attempt was 
well worth while. It was God whom we worshipped 
thus in Humanity. It was worship that we called by 
the name of work. The Calcutta lad who perished in 
a city-drain, in the vain attempt to save two workmen 
the other day, was as truly saint and martyr as if he 
had died at the stake for his opinions, or thrown him- 
self down from the mountain- top in sacrifice. 
IN the India of the Transition there is no word that 
seems to us more important or more a propos than the 
great saying of Sri Ramakrishna : " Bring your own 
lotus to blossom ; the bees will come of themselves." 
All over the country are workers at forlorn hopes. 
Here it is a magazine, there a business. Somewhere 
else a man is working at science or invention. Again, 
he is doing what he can to organize some branch of in- 
dustry or labour. Every one is confronted by per- 
plexities that seem hopeless, by difficulties that appal 
him. Almost every one has to struggle against want 
of co-operation. All are striving to achieve success, 
without the tools or material of success. 
To all in this position we would say, " Be not afraid ! 
You can see, through the mists, only one step ? Take 
that step. Plant your foot firm. You have done 
all you could, and to-morrow morning sees you fail ? 
Expect that failure, if you will, but, for to-night, act 
as if you would succeed. Stand to the guns. Be true." 
There is not one who can command means. Rarely is 
a Napoleon born, to find all he needs for his task at 
his hand. And even he has been made through millen- 
niums of exertion. All that we have at our own dis- 
posal is our own effort. " Bring your own lotus to 
blossom." Be faithful to yourself. 
But there is another side to this picture. The bees 


do come. The lotus feels no difference between to-day 
and yesterday. She knows not that at dawn her petals 
opened wide for the first time. She knows it only by 
the coming of the bees. The young athlete feels in 
himself no difference, of sterner control and finer ad- 
justment, between the act of to-day and that of yester- 
day. But to-day's stroke went home. We do not know 
when success may come to us. Even now, it may be 
but an hour before we meet it. In any case, we work, 
we put in our full strength. When victory comes, be 
it late or early, it will find us on the field. 
" Making gain and loss the same." This is not 
counsel for religious practices alone. In every under- 
taking it is the golden rule. Only he who can do this 
can ever succeed. But he who does, succeeds. No 
sooner does the mind steady itself on its true fulcrum- 
point of self-control than results pour in. It was our 
own confusion of motive, our own blindness of aim, 
that baffled us so long. Aim true. The arrow hits 
the mark. When his hour strikes, the bow Gandiva 
returns to the hand of Arjuna. 
But we have to determine what is the effort to which 
we have a right. The will is like a great serpent. 
Not on its outmost coil is its striking-point. Nor on 
the next, nor the next. At the very centre of the 
spiral we find the deadly arrow. Rearing the head 
high, the cobra sees its mark, and strikes. We have 
to place ourselves aright, to poise ourselves on our own 
centre of equilibrium, to attain mental clearness. The 
schoolmaster would fain deliver his country, but he sees 
none on the benches before him who were made of the 
stuff of heroes, Let the schoolmaster teach as though 
he saw heroes. Let him arrive at clear thought and 
conviction. Let him educate with all his might, mak- 
ing defeat and success the same. The man who can 
do this will create heroes. He brings his own lotus 
to blossom. The bees come of themselves. 
The potter yearns to deliver his people. Let him 
make good pots. The energy of his passion will make 
deliverers of the very men who stoke his fires. He 
thought to mould pots and vases. He was moulding 
men the while, out of the clay of the human will. 
How strange that the lotus has to hear from the 
bees the news of its own blooming ! So silent are the 
great spiritual happenings. Yet they are all-mastering. 
Events follow them. They do not lead. Means 
come to the man who can use means ; always, without 
exception. Is victory , or defeat my task ? Fool ! 
STRUGGLE is your task. 
The higher and more responsible the duty before us, 
the longer shall we be in reaching it. And we must 
fight every inch of the way. In the end the deed it- 
self may seem to be trivial. It lasts, maybe, only an 
instant. Many a soldier has paid with his life for the 
turning of a key, or a single flash from the gun. Yet 
to be in his place at that supreme moment had required 
all his past. A Gladstone, a Darwin, shows no ex- 
traordinary power save that of steady work at school 
or college. Maybe, the soul of him knows that the 
daily routine is for it, the army-drill of higher battles. 
Maybe, such have some instinctive consciousness of 
greatness. Maybe ; maybe not. Neither he nor we 
can command our destiny. But we can all work. 
We want higher ideals of struggle, The diver 
struggles to find treasure. The miser struggles to win 
gold. The lover struggles for the smile of the beloved. 
The whole mind is set on the goal proposed. One of 
Sri Ramakrishna's great sayings, again, refers to the 
chdshd (cultivator) whose crop has failed. The gentle- 
man-farmer abandons farming when he has experienced 
one or two bad seasons. But the chdshA sows at sow- 
ing time, whatever was his lot at harvest. However 
humble our task, this should be its spirit. Over and 
over and over again, the unwearied effort should be re- 
peated. We should struggle to the death. Like the 
swimmer shipwrecked within sight of land ; like the 
mountaineer scarcely reaching the ice-peak ; so we 
should labour to be perfect in every little task. 
Out of the shrewdness of small shopkeepers in Scot- 
land have been born the Scottish merchants whose 
palaces and warehouses confront us on every side the 
whole world over. Out of the same experience was 
written Adam Smith's " Wealth of Nations." Even so 
the small and humble task is ever the class-room of 
the high and exalted. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth 
to do, do it with thy whole might." 
GREAT is the life of ideas. Men die that an idea may 
live. Generation after generation may pass away, 
while the idea on which they were threaded grows 
only the stronger for their decay. Let none, then, feel 
that in his own defeat lies any disaster to truth. A 
life given ? What of that ? Thought may be enriched 
by the death of thinkers ! What is any one of us, un- 
less the Infinite Light is seen behind and through him ? 
And for the Light to be seen, may it not sometimes 
be needful that the vessel should be broken? 
How often it happens that everything a man has 
believed is summed up and asserted in the moment of 
his death ! Death consecrates. Death renders im- 
personal. It suddenly withdraws from the sight of 
others all the petty nervous irritations that have veiled 
the man's real intention, and he stands revealed in his 
greatness, instead of his littleness, before his contem- 
It sometimes happens that the greatest service a 
man can render is to retire. Great men must always 
take care to withdraw when the message is uttered. 
Only alone, and in freedom, can the child or the student 
or the disciple work out the idea that has reached him. 
The seed is buried while it germinates. The obscure 
processes of development would only suffer check from 
the attempt to watch and regulate. We seek ever to 
give birth to the greater-than-ourselves. But for this, 
it is essential that we seek not to see results. To give 
and die ; to speak and leave free ; to act, looking for 
no fruit ; this is the great mood, that paves the way for 
the world-changes. 
How many could throw themselves from the palm- 
tree's height? Those who are able to do this, having 
faith in truth, are the fathers of the future, the masters 
of the world, because only through them can the Im- 
personal flow in its fulness. Says a Christian hymn : 
" Oh to be nothing, nothing ! 
Only to lie at His feet, 
A broken and empty vessel, 
For the Master's use made meet ! 
Empty that He may fill me, 
As forth to His service I go ! 
Broken that so more freely, 
His life through mine may flow ! " 
IT will often seem as if life hammered the poor man, 
working him to that form which will exactly fill its 
place in the social setting, while the rich man, in the 
nature of things, is privileged, and allowed apparently 
to escape opposition. In fact, however, this hammer- 
ing is experience, and is one of those the most im- 
portant regards in which the buying power of poverty 
is greater than that of wealth. 
Service, poverty, helplessness, are for strong natures 
great schools. It is only the man who is in a position 
at some time in his life to feel the full consequences of 
each word and act on the hearts of others, it is only 
that man who is able fully to explore the social con- 
sciousness. Only he whose single self-respect can ex- 
actly balance the respect that is due to others. For 
the manner and bearing of the subject should be dif- 
ferent in form but wholly equal in dignity to those of 
the king himself. We ought so to serve that we might 
at any moment assume authority. This is the service 
that the great desire to have. He who longs to thwart 
and mortify the pride of the server invites defeat from 
his own subordinate. 
The only bond that can knit together master and 
servant, sovereign and subject, officer and private 
soldier, is not their personal relation, but the con- 
stant subconscious recognition in every word and 
deed of an ideal of perfect conduct which both alike 
are co-operating to carry out. The man who sees the 
army, with his mind's eye, will not forget the deference 
due to his commander. And he in turn, being con- 
scious that only as part of a great whole does he wield 
power, will be gentle and generous and winning in its 
use. When the moment comes for wrath, for condemn- 
ing the disobedient man to sudden death, it will be 
this long' habit of delicacy, and the fact that even now 
the claim is impersonal, is made in the name of an 
ideal, that will give power to the order, so that others 
will hasten to put it into effect. 
For such maintenance of authority how much self- 
control is necessary ! How complex an experience ! 
In the brain-cells of the dispenser of law how long a 
memory must be stored up ! Only such authority can 
be deep or enduring. It is a fact which anyone may 
put to the test, that only that man can maintain order 
who controls himself. Children, servants, and subjects 
are all alike contemptuous of the man whose own 
temper is not under his own command. And again, 
in order to learn the power of discipling others, it is 
first needful that we practise discipline within. Thus, 
authority and obedience are but obverse and reverse of 
a single power. The higher our education, the greater 
our ability to obey instructions. He who rules to-day 
obeyed yesterday. Let us so hold ourselves in obedi- 
ence that to-morrow we may command. These are a 
few of the secrets of strong human combinations. 
A man goes to a university, not that he may become 
a teacher, but that he may be trained to learn. He is 
best educated to whom all that he sees and hears con- 
8 * 
veys its lesson. He whose senses are open, whose 
brain is alert, he who is not deaf or blind nor the man 
who has seen and heard most, is truly educated. To 
the uneducated, the movements of the plant carry no 
tale. They pass all unobserved beneath his very eyes. 
To the uneducated, custom is an arbitrary and mean- 
ingless yoke. And the best educated man is not ne- 
cessarily he who knows most already, but he who is 
most prepared to take advantage of what experience 
is bringing him. Thus every mental act prepares us for 
others. Every thought adds to our capacity for thought. 
Every moment of true concentration increases our 
ability to command the mind, and therefore the world. 
How vast, then, is the moral difference between the 
man who applies himself to learning in order that he 
may lead the life of a scholar, and him who goes through 
the same course in order that he may enjoy advance- 
ment, or may earn money to spend on pleasure or 
luxury ! The one is the son and beloved child of Sar- 
aswati Herself, the other is at best but Her hired 
servant. This is the distinction that is conveyed in 
those injunctions of which our Sh&stras are so full, to 
practise love for its own sake, the pursuit of wisdom 
for its own sake, righteousness for its own sake. The 
stainless motive, that rises beyond self, ready to de- 
stroy the dreamer himself before the altar of the dream, 
this is the only possible condition of true achieve- 
ment. And this is why it is better to be born of 
generations of saints than of a race of conquerors. The 
conqueror is paid for his sacrifice. He spends what 
he has won. The saint adds his strength to that of his 
fore-goers, storing it up for them that shall come after. 
INDIA is evolving a new civilization. New ideals and 
new methods have already made their appearance. 
Already she is projecting herself upon new develop- 
ments in many different directions. The great danger 
of such an era is the loss of moral stability which it is 
apt to involve. For the aim and effort of civilization 
is always to maintain the supremacy of the moral 
faculty. And in periods of violent transition, the ten- 
dency is, by the breaking of old bonds and associations, 
to make the moral scum and wreckage of society come 
to the surface, and take the lead. The word " civiliza- 
tion " is a Western equivalent for our word Dharma 
or " national righteousness," and a nation may be re- 
garded as having proved the value of its past, only when 
character has always been reckoned by it as the first 
of political and social assets, when the hypocrite has 
always been rated by it at his true value, and when the 
will of the people has spontaneously known to pursue 
good and avoid evil, all the days of its life. 
No people can boast that they have shown these 
characteristics to perfection. This is obviously a race 
in which success is only of relative measurement. Yet 
the fact remains that if there could be an absolute 
standard for the appraisement of national and social 
systems it would be in terms of morality, not in those 
of wealth or industry or even of happiness, that that 
perfection must be expressed. 
Morality is not to be understood here as the 
morality of social habit merely. The keeping of a 
time-worn law may depend upon our weakness quite 
as much as on our strength. True morality is a fire of 
will, of purity, of character, of sacrifice. It is here, and 
not to the expression, that we must look, to make the 
valuation of a nation's attainment. Yet some things 
are clear. When countries that have long preached a 
religion of renunciation, a religion of the poor and 
lowly, of self-denial, of common property, of brotherly 
love, when such countries are found suddenly to have 
abandoned themselves to the practice of exploitation 
political, commercial, financial, or all three at once, 
then we see a discrepancy between theory and practice, 
on which we can and ought to pass a judgment. 
It is clear that a sound and true doctrine is not 
weapon enough for the will of man in the hour of a 
great temptation. Besides that of the truth or un- 
truth of the doctrine held, there is also the deeper 
question to be considered of how far the nature of the 
man has been saturated with it, how far he has bent to 
it, how far he has assimilated it. Unless a nation be 
literally sodden with its religion, it is bound, when the 
opportunity comes, to throw it away in favour of self- 
interest. And this is the defeat of civilization. This is 
the true bar-sinister on the scutcheon of history. 
At this point, however, comes in the question of the 
intellectual limitations of different faiths. Clearly, a 

code of religion and ethics which commands the un-

grudging assent of our whole intellect will restrain and 
impel us more effectually than one that we are driven 
to regard as more or less an old wives' tale. Here we 
see the importance of a religion that is not discredited. 
And here also we find the secret of the failure of Chris- 
tianity in the nineteenth century. Science, by dint of 
her mechanical inventions, has created a new world for 
Christian peoples to dwell in. Alas, that same science 
has also led to the scorning of the very Christianity 
which had been the great guiding and ennobling force 
in the world as they already knew it, and a Christian 
without his Christianity is apt to be an armed dacoit. 
Christianity was not strong enough to include science. 
Is Hinduism strong enough to include the modern civ- 
ilization ? We answer yes ! For towering behind the 
habits and practices of Hinduism lies that great gener- 
alized philosophy of the Vedanta, to which any religious 
ritual, any social scheme would serve equally well as 
area of illustration and experimental school. And 
from amidst the Vedanta itself, again, rises the Advaita 
of Sankaracharya as the peak of Gouri-Shankar crowns 
the long range of the Himalayas. 
We are about to throw ourselves forward upon a 
great secularity. As a new development of Hinduism, 
in future, is to stand the Indian Nation. Instead of 
the Samaj and orthodoxy, the civic life. Instead of 
new worships and triumphant religious austerities, we 
are buckling on our armour to-day for the battlefield 
of learning, of co-operation, of self-organization. But 
what of that ? Can the foundations of the Sanathan 
Dharma be shaken thereby ? No, for have we not 
long ago been told, Ekam Sat Viprd BahudhA Vadanti? 
" All that exists is ONE. Learned men but call it by 
different names." 
Does it matter that instead of ringing the temple- 
bells at evening we are to turn now to revive a dying 
industry? Does it matter that instead of altars we 
are to build factories and universities ? Does it matter 
that instead of" slaves of the Brahmans " we are in future 
to write ourselves down as " slaves of the Motherland " ? 
Does it matter that instead of offering worship, we are 
to turn henceforth with gifts of patient service, of food, 
of training, of knowledge, to those who are in sore 
need ? If " All that exists is One," then all paths alike 
are paths to that Oneness. Fighting is worship as 
good as praying. Labour is offering as acceptable as 
Ganges water. Study is austerity more costly and 
more precious than a fast. Mutual aid is better than 
any puja. For concentration is the only means of 
vision The One, the only goal. 
O man, whosoever thou art who goest forth to work, 
in this hour of the nation's need, clasp to thy heart the 
weapon of thy service. Let mind and body be one in 
the act of labour, every muscle hard-knit, every sinew 
tense. Let all thy faculties converge on embracing 
the task. Let thy thought, day and night, be on that 
which thou hast taken in hand to do. Let character 
be thy supreme guide, perfection of service thy one 
dream. So shall there come an hour of knowledge. 
And the new age shall have added to the children of 
the Motherland the race of the saints of the market- 
place and the field, the heroes of the civic and the 
national life. 
THERE was a mood, to which we sometimes obtain a 
moment's entrance, when we hold in our hands an old 
book, an old picture, an old jewel, or even things as 
simple as a padlock, a piece of brass-work, or a fragment 
of embroidery. It was a mood of leisure and sim- 
plicity, to which the work in hand at the moment was 
the whole aim of life. The craftsman was concentrated 
upon his labour. The whole of Dharma lay in the 
beauty he was bringing forth. His craft was for the 
moment or for that moment in the existence of hu- 
manity that we call a man's life his religion. 
Great things are always created thus. There is 
nothing worth having that has not cost a human life. 
Men have given themselves thus, for things that may 
seem, to the careless eye, to have been not worth the 
price. A single vind or violin one out of the many 
required in the course of a year may have cost all 
this to make. Patient search of materials, careful 
seasoning and mellowing, earnest study of conditions, 
infinite lavishing of work, all these are necessary to the 
instrument that will be perfect. But having them, 
there have been some that were as individual as human 
beings, some whose voices live in history. It has 
happened, often enough, that a man would give years of 
labour to the carving of a cameo, or the illuminating of 
a manuscript. Such things we think of as the posses- 
sions of kings, and we speak of them as mediaeval. That 
is to say, they are the product of ages like those of the 
European Middle Ages. But in India the Middle Ages 
lasted till the other day. Even yet we may see them 
persisting in humble streets, and bazaars, and in 
villages that lie off the line of railway. India is, as 
a whole, a mediaeval country. The theses of the 
Transition belong to her passage from one age into 
another, out of the Mediaeval into the Modern. 
What, then, were the characteristics of the Mediaeval 
Age, that enabled it to produce its miracles of beauty 
and skill ? It may be worth while to examine for a 
moment into this subject. In the first place, it had a 
great simplicity. A man lived, ate, and slept, in the 
room in which he worked. He was not surrounded by 
the multitudinous objects of his desire. His desire 
was only one. It was concentrated in his work. At 
the utmost, by way of ornament, he had about him a 
picture of some god, and a few specimens of his own 
achievements. Thus, his thirst after perfection fed 
upon itself. We do not often realize how much a great 
workman may owe to bareness and perfect simplicity 
of surroundings. To a certain extent, we may see this 
simplicity, any day, in the bazaar. The shopkeeper 
lives and receives his friends amongst his wares. 
Study, laboratory, living-room, all these are one, to the 
mediaeval man. 
Another point lay in the fact that partly owing to 
the fewness of his wants, and partly to the abundance 
of food then in the country, the mediaeval workman 
was in no hurry to be rich. He could afford, there- 
fore, to be lavish of time. The thing he made was, to 
a great extent, his only reward. Nor could he expect 
that to anyone else it would afford the enjoyment that 
he could derive from it. None else knew, as did he, 
the precise reasons why this curve or that colour had 
been chosen, rather than something else. None else 
could realize the feeling of rest, or gratification, or the 
sense of successful expression that rose in his mind 
when he looked upon it. He himself derived from his 
own work a pleasure that he never dreamed of de- 
scribing to anyone, a joy that he could not hope to 
communicate. The work was done for the work's 
own sake. 
Nothing tells so strongly and clearly in a piece of 
work as its motive. The desire for fame or money 
leads to qualities that destroy all true greatness in art. 
The genuine worker never asks for advertisement. 
He is contented to do well. Like the farmer of whom 
Ramakrishna Paramahamsa spoke, he returns to the 
task itself again and again, whatever be the discour- 
agements that meet him in it. He strives with all his 
might, to bring his own lotus to blossom. What con- 
cern of his are the bees ? 
He works for sheer joy of self-expression, and his 
work is a joy to all he loves. Even the greatest things 
in the world have been made out of the happiness of 
such simple souls, who were contented to work as a 
child to play with toys. Cathedrals and temples, 
pictures and images, cities and kingdoms, have all been 
toys to the fashioners of them, working out of their 
own sense of things, even as a bird sings in the sun- 
light. The modern organization has upset many 
things which the ancient organization laboured to com- 
pass. Amongst others, it has made life complex. It 
has increased our needs. It has confronted us with 
many temptations, of which, in our old-time isolation, 
we knew little. The aimless desire for an accumulation 
of useless objects has seized upon us, and we do not 
realize that for this we have bartered what is infinitely 
more precious, the power of steady and absorbed work. 
For pictures on our walls, for sofas and chairs and 
round tables, for an air of luxury, and an infinite 
weariness of household drudgery, we have sold our 
birthright of dignified simplicity and a concentrated 
mind and heart. 
Back to simplicity, and the lofty uses of simplicity ! 
Back to the bareness that was beauty, and the depth 
of thought that meant culture ! Back to the mat on 
the bare floor, and the thoughts that were so lofty ! 
Let us ordain ourselves free of the means of living : 
let us give our whole mind to the developing of life it- 
self. Not in the age of scrambling for appointments, 
and struggling for a livelihood, was Sankaracharya 
born, was Buddha born. Let the thatched hut at the 
foot of the palm be wealth sufficient : woe the day 
when Indian mothers cease to bring forth, and Indian 
homes cease to nurture, the lions of intellect and 
spirituality ! 
What the sannyasin is to life, that the craftsman 
must be to his craft, that each one of us to the task in 
hand. We must have a single eye to the thing itself, 
not to any of the fruits that come of it. We must keep 
ourselves simple, dependent upon no external aid, 

listening more and more as life goes on for that inner

voice which is the guide to self-expression. In each 
line we must seek for that peculiar and partial form of 
mukti which is its goal. When mukti has been piled 
upon mukti y God knows if the Absolute shall be ours. 
Five hundred times died Buddha ere he attained the 
infinite compassion. Shall we grudge a life, with its 
hour of toil, that we may feast our eyes upon some 
symbol of perfection ? Shall we measure the devotion 
that, given without stint, is to make of us the puja- 
flowers laid before the feet of God ? In a world of 
infinite variety the vision of Reality ends every road. 
Let us then push on with brave hearts, not fainting 
by the way. Whatever we have taken in hand to do, 
let us make the means our end. Let us pursue after 
the ideal for the ideal's own sake, and cease not, stop 
not, till we are called by the voice that cannot go un- 
heeded to put away childish things and enter the city 
of the soul. 
THE growth of modern cities in India shows that 
we are leaving behind us the organization of the undi- 
vided family, which once formed our largest conceivable 
social unit, and entering into still larger and much freer 
social combination. The city is one of the widest 
groups that can be formed. Nations are made up of 
citizens, and conversely, cities are the schools of na- 
tionality. A city is the most complex type of mole- 
cule, so to speak, in the national organism. 
In a given molecule all the atoms contained are essen- 
tial. Each atom, each sub-atom, and the relation of each 
to the rest, is integral to the whole. Can we say this 
of our cities of to-day ? Knot, they are not organized on 
^permanent basis. In mediaeval Benares, in mediaeval 
Lucknow, each atom and each series of atoms was es- 
sential to the city. In Conjeeveram and in many of our 
rural market-towns of the South the same is true to- 
day. Is it true of our modern cities, of Calcutta, Ma- 
dras, Bombay ? If not, the inessential elements will 
yet prove to be but temporary. They will eventually 
be cast out. 
There is a difference between mechanical complexity 
and organic complexity. Those factors which do not 
belong organically to the civic com plexus are the factors 
that cannot endure. And what is the test of the or- 
ganic necessity of any given atom ? The test that our 
ancestors would have accepted was dharma. Those who 
uphold the national righteousness belong to the city, 
belong to the nation ; those who destroy and deterior- 
ate it will have to go. The test of our cohesion, then, 
is a moral test, a test of character, of conduct, of up- 
rightness. It is that particular kind of character, 
moreover, which makes large social combinations pos- 
A study of such traits of character would then be 
valuable. Each of us, if we set ourselves to observe 
what these are, will notice different things. One will 
lay stress on good manners. There is no doubt that 
these are necessary, and that the standard will be much 
more precise and severe when we move in a circle 
drawn from all parts of India than when we lived only 
amongst our own relatives. Courtesy is a great lubri- 
cant to public life, and the delicate social emotions that 
make courtesy sincere and natural are one of the most 
precious gifts of humanity. Courtesy, too, may well 
be practised in the home. It is no excuse for a brutal 
manner that so-and-so is my mother or wife or brother. 
What then ? Am I to be impertinent to my nearest 
and dearest, and reserve my best self for those whom 
I scarcely know ? 
Another will notice the need of punctuality, of order, 
of regular habits. All these are absolutely imperative 
in the civic circle. And all these are Dharma, for all 
mean self-control for the good of others. 
We have to learn to be reliable, or what is called 
" dependable," in our dealings with others. Respon- 
sibility is God's test of man. We must be equal to our 
task. It is worse than useless, it is positively ruinous, 
like the uncompleted sacrifice, to undertake a duty that 
we do not carry through to its last syllable. The 
performance of duty, the social duty, the civic duty, is 
not to be allowed to vary with our own feelings, with 
our impulses, our tempers, even (up to certain neces- 
sary limits) with our health. " I am responsible " is a 
word that, uttered by oneself to oneself, should spur 
us to the highest effort, to the sternest sacrifice. 
There is no reason for charity, for tenderness, for for- 
bearance, no reason that can be urged, which is so 
strong as the need of him to whom kindness or gentle- 
ness is shown. And similarly, the most intense of all 
social, motives is not ambition or self-interest, or love of 
fame or power, intense as any of these may be. The 
most intense of all motives lies in the thought "I am 
trusted : this duty or this need depends upon me." Here 
is the thought that makes the sentinel die at his post, 
that calls the fireman to the hottest point of danger, 
that rouses the slumbering spirit and puts spurs into 
the flagging will. And this is Dharma. 
For examples of what is to be won by energy of 
social experiment, we are agreed that we must turn 
to the West. Even in the pursuit of ideas, while the 
idea is often better realized in India, its reflection in the 
social organization is better accomplished in Europe. 
These things are to be studied and contemplated. 
There is no solvent of error in conduct like true thought 
and right knowledge. We are of those who urge neither 
conservatism nor reform in social questions. We ask 
only for right understanding. And we hold that the 
temper of mind that will rush hurriedly upon either one 
act or the other is not conducive to true understanding, 
which needs above all things disinterestedness and calm. 
Let us then compare the European solution of vari- 
ous problems with our own, and see, if possible, 
whether we have not much to gain from such con- 
Even in religion, we find Indian worship a one-priest 
matter, while European ritual is a vast co-operation of 
singers, servers, ministrants, and others. In monasti- 
cism, the ideal monk of the East is a wanderer who goes 
free, from place to place, working out the personal ideal 
derived from his guru. He is often the embodiment of 
great and sometimes of supreme individual illumina- 
tion. But he never has the discipline of the member 
of a close-knit organization, in which obedience is 
practised as a mortification, and punctuality, order, and 
business habits are rigorously imposed. Yet so com- 
pletely has the monastic formation been assimilated by 
the West as a social institution, that such words as 
abbot, prior, novice, refectory, cloister, bands, vespers, and 
others, are now part of the common language, each 
with its precise meaning expressed and understood by 
all members of society alike. It was the organization 
of the great religious orders, moreover, the Cistercians 
practising agriculture, the Dominicans and Jesuits 
giving education, the Franciscans acting as moral and 
religious missioners, a sort of mediaeval Salvation 
Army, that made the modern organization of hos- 
pitals, red-cross sisterhoods, and relief associations in 
general, a possibility. It was their work in education 
that laid the foundations of all the universities and 
common schools in Europe. 
But we have monasteries In India also. What is the 
distinguishing characteristic of the European ? The 
distinguishing characteristic of European monasticism 
is its system, its organization, its clear and well-defined 
division of responsibilities. One man is the head. 
Under him may be the prior and even a sub-prior. 
One man trains novices ; another attends to guests. 
However many persons live under one roof, there is 
no overlapping of functions, no repetition of offices. 
There is not one hour of the day that has not its ap- 
pointed duty. The body monastic is close-knit, co- 
herent, organic, and a degree of obedience to superiors 
is required of every member which is not surpassed by 
that of an army occupying hostile territory. 
Developments like these, taking many centuries to 
perfect, have furnished that thought material, those con- 
ceptions of character and conduct, out of which the 
great commercial and industrial organizations of the 
present age have been constructed. Society is really 
one, and the experiments made by each part become 
the knowledge of the whole. 
Behind every mental realization, however, whether 
of individuals or of societies, always stands some 
concrete experience. What was the concrete experi- 
ence that so worked itself into the very nerves and 
blood of European races that their idea of a working- 
unity became so definite 'and differentiated ? It is said 
by sociologists that this concrete experience was the 
conquest of the ocean. European peoples are coast- 
line-dwellers. Their conception of organization is 
furnished by the crew of a ship, and their temptation 
incidentally, not only their temptation, but also their 
characteristic vice is piracy. In the crew of the ship, 
the family with the father as captain, eldest son first 
mate, second son as second mate, younger sons and 
nephews as working sailors, and so on becomes trans- 
formed into the complex human working-unit, the 
social instrument, whose unity and discipline are tested 
for life or for death in every gale that the fishing-smack 
In India and the East generally, it is supposed, in 
similar fashion, that the great concrete experience on 
which the national character is built, and by which its 
potency for co-operation is largely determined, is the rice- 
field. Here, it is said, whole families co-operate, under 
one man's direction, on an equal footing. They sow 
seed, they transplant seedlings, they harvest crops, 
without, say the sociologists, anything happening to 
call forth a great preponderance of ability in any one 
above the others. No special reward waits on in- 
genuity or inventive ability in the transplanting of rice. 
Every man's labour is more or less like the rest and of 
equal amount. Hence the firm hold obtained by the es- 
sentially democratic institutions of village, caste, guild, 
and family, in India. India is essentially a democratic 
country. Her monarchies and aristocracies are quite 
extraneous to her social system, and it is this which she 
has to thank for her stability and solidarity under ex- 
periences that would have shattered the unity of any 
less coherent organization. The only point in which 
India fails to stand comparison with the West is in the 
complexity of her social organization. 
Benares is asbeautiful as any mediaeval city in Europe. 
Indeed Europe has not more than one or two jewels to 
compare with it. Yet anyone who has seen a European 
cathedral will know what is meant by complex unity. 
The Western cathedral is not a mere building. It is 
like a Southern Indian temple a treasure-house of 
carvings in stone and wood ; of paintings on walls, on 
glass, and on canvas ; of musical instruments ; old 
metalwork ; embroideries ; libraries ; and fifty other 
things. It represents, as many writers have pointed 
out, a synthesis of occupations, all held together by a 
single aim, governed by one head, united in the realiza- 
tion of a common design. And European cathedrals 
were the fruit of the sudden realization by the people 
of their own unity and their own freedom. For they 
sprang up in the great age of the passing away of the 
Feudal System and the birth of the great Free Cities of 
the Middle Ages. 
If the complex unity of the ship's crew enable the 
European peoples to build cathedrals, the building of 
cathedrals, in like manner, has helped towards the 
modern complexity and success of industrial and com- 
mercial co-operation. For those who undertake great 
tasks and hold faithfully to their part in them, become 
possessed of great powers, and apply them uncon- 
sciously in every other function. 
Let us also, then, undertake great tasks. Let us be 
faithful even in little things. A single wheel or screw 
may be small, even minute, yet a whole machine may 
turn on it. Let us be responsible, trustworthy. Let 
our word be our bond. The hand we have taken in 
ours, let it never fail for want of one to hold it. So 
shall every deed be the seed-plot of new powers. So 
shall every gain become the stronghold of a nation. 
THE relation between the individual and the com- 
munity, the extent to which no one of us is an indi- 
vidual at all, but merely constitutes an instrument 
carrying hands and feet and senses for the great social 
organism behind us, this is a subject on which we 
think too little and too seldom. Yet few questions 
are at the present time more important. A distin- 
guished European sociologist has said that man in his 
earliest development thinks as "we," and only later 
as "I." The statement is not so paradoxical as 
it sounds. Most educated persons are aware that if 
a frog's brain be removed, and a drop of acid then 
placed on the hind foot of the frog, the foot will be 
rapidly withdrawn and the leg folded convulsively 
against the body. This is called "reflex action," be- 
cause it is carried out without the necessary interven- 
tion of consciousness. Similarly, much of our social 
conduct, perhaps all that is a part of our characters, is 
Imagine for instance, a slight put upon our family 
honour. Can we not feel the impulse of retaliation 
that is demanded of each and every member of the 
family alike, in the men as acts, in the women as 
malediction ? Is such retaliation planned or instinc- 
tive ? Can we not see from this something of what the 
European scholar meant ? Is it not true that in family- 
matters we think even now rather as " we " than as 
"I"? And can we not see, casting our glance back 
over the evolution of humanity, that this must be 
more and more so, the earlier the period under re- 
view ? In an age when individual scope was small, 
each man would be more true to the type of the 
family or the tribe, or the race, than in a later epoch, 
when, even physically, there is greater divergence of 
the individual from his kindred and brothers. Every 
state of society, then, and every social institution, 
carries with it its own reflex consciousness, its own 
code, its own ideals. Polygamy has its ethics, quite 
as much as monogamy. The European woman has 
her poets, as truly as the Oriental. Joan of Arc is 
also a saint, though so different in type from Sita. 
Taking the whole of this reflex consciousness, these 
codes, these ideals, and putting together the principles 
of conduct which we can deduce from them, we 
call the result morality. Morality is fundamentally 
the expression of Humanity as a whole, through the 
individual. It follows that morality is not the same 
in all ages. It becomes finer and more complex, with 
the growth of intellectual knowledge and social ex- 
perience. There was a time when the morality of 
family and tribe was all-sufficient ; when it seemed 
right to a people to extirpate, in the name of this 
morality, not only the people pf other tribes, but also 
their gods ! Indeed as we look about us to-day, we 
may perhaps be pardoned if we think that that time, 
even now, has not altogether gone by. 
It is the proud distinction of the Indian culture 

that Hindus have never, within historic times, been

contented with the tribal morality, or the tribal ideal. 
This fact it is which forms the granite foundation of 
that destiny, in right of which India, as we believe, is 
yet again to lead the world. Even a philosophy like 
the Vedanta, even an ideal like that of Advaita, is 
organically related to the social experience, or it could 
never have been formulated. The day will yet dawn 
in this country, when young men shall set themselves 
to conquer all the most difficult knowledge of the 
world, with the sole object of being able to trace out 
these connexions between the communal organization 
and the national achievement. It may be that the 
caste-system, with its suggestion of a synthesis of 
races, ideals, and customs, was the concrete basis of 
that intellectual comprehensiveness which is yet to be 
the gift of India to the world. Or the secret may be 
found elsewhere. In any case, if we of to-day would 
prove ourselves the worthy children of our ancestors, 
we, like them, must refuse to be contented with a 
tribal morality. India may seem now to be but a 
trifling factor in the development of man, but it will 
not be always so, and great or small, none can 
measure the power of true thought, for the world is 
governed by mind, and not by matter. 
Our rishis and yogis tell us of a stage of meditation 
in which we develop a cosmic sense, and feel ourselves 
to be present in the moon, the sun, and the stars. 
Far below this meditative experience, however, we 
must train ourselves and our children to another, 
which will assuredly help to fit us for it, a world- \ 
sense. Through this consciousness, we must develop 
the power to suffer with the pain, and hope with the 
hope, of all men. All human sorrows are our sorrows, 
personally and collectively. Let us educate ourselves 
to feel them so, and then, in the moment of power it 
may be, we shall give birth to a morality which shall 
include them all. 
In some such way has every advance in morality 
been made. First the trained sympathy, secondly the 
cultivated intellect, and third and last, the moral 
impulse, ending in a new institution, that cuts a step 
higher than humanity had heretofore reached, in the 
icy face of the mountain peaks. That is to say, all 
new social developments must arise out of new sym- 
pathies, new emotional experiences, giving birth to 
new and loftier ideals, and through these to a renewal 
or reform of institutions. Not by a mere substitution 
of one custom for another can a society be mended. 
Such thoughts occur to us in connexion with the 
much-disputed question of woman's education. All 
that Indian women can do for themselves they would 
seem to have done. Forty years ago, we are told, 
they had still, for the most part, to learn to read and 
write in their vernaculars. All over India, spon- 
taneously as it seemed, the effort began. The simple 
magazines which are so essential to first steps in such 
a culture-process found their way, by the cheap postal 
system, from the city-presses to the eagerly-waiting 
subscribers in the country. The vernacular education 
of Indian women was organized by the women them- 
selves, and some very few well-wishers outside. 
To-day, to a great extent, this vernacular education 
has been assimilated. In Bengal, Maharashtra, Madras, 
and the Punjab, every little girl expects to have to 
learn, not only to read her mother-tongue, but also to 
write it. This amount of wisdom is often attainable 
in the zenana itself, which thus becomes for the 
moment almost a schoolroom. In Bengal at least, 
such historical narratives as those of Romesh Ch. 
Dutt, and some of Bankim Chandra Chatterjee, have 
been read by all orthodox ladies, and there are maga- 
zines, and even illustrated magazines, in abundance. 
But to-day we stand before the question of a new 
step to be taken in the education of woman, and it is 
meet that there should here be a certain searching of 
heart. Education is the highest and most moral of all 
social functions, and unless it is rightly directed, it 
may easily be made pernicious. Its direction, more- 
over, is more than anything else an affair of its motive. 
What is our motive in desiring education for our 
sisters and daughters? Is it that they may be decked 
out in the faded finery of European accomplishments, 
and so take a better place in the matrimonial market ? 
If so, the education that we are likely to give them is 
little calculated to help them over life's rough places. 
It is in fact, merely an extension of privilege, it is no 
enfranchisement, and perhaps those who receive it 
were better without it. Or do we desire to educate 
the women we are ourselves to wed, in the hope that 
their knowledge may save us trouble in the future ? 
It is undoubtedly convenient to have a wife who can, 
unaided, take the baby's temperature when he has 
fever. If we go further than this, and feel that we 
should like to spend our lives with our intellectual 
equal, instead of with a prisoner, bound to the tread- 
mill of daily routine, and capable of few speculations 
beyond, in the darkness of the mental jail, we are, 
even then, only men of taste, crying out for a more 
appetizing morsel than the common. We are not yet 
true advocates and champions of the education of 
The only ground on which woman can claim, or 
man assist her to obtain, anything worthy of the name 
of education, is that of the common humanity in both, 
which makes the one fit to be trusted and reverenced 
as the other, makes the one worthy of honour and 
responsibility as the other, and finally, makes the 
whole question of sex a subordinate consideration, 
like that of a blue or a green garment. For Hu- 
manity is primarily soul and mind, and only in a very 
secondary sense body. " Whatsoever things are just, 
whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are 
beautiful, whatsoever things are true, think on these 
things," is a text that has even more often cried for 
fulfilment by woman than by man. But how shall it 
be fulfilled, except in knowledge ? 
If woman is really as much a human being as man, 
then she has the same right to her fullest possible de- 
velopment as he has. If we should hesitate to em- 
phasize the sex of man, then we ought also to hesitate 
at emphasizing that of woman. If we seek by every 
available means to ennoble the one, then we must surely 
seek equally to ennoble the other. The development 
of woman must be regarded as an end, and a sacred 
end. And this for the sake of woman herself, and not 
in any way as a mere accessory to the happiness or 
well-being of man. 
ONE of the most valuable generalizations of the modern 
era is that which was first arrived at, just about the 
time of the French Revolution, that the individual, in 
his development, follows the race. Each man and woman, 
that is to say, when perfectly educated, becomes an 
epitome of the history either of his or her own race, or 
of Humanity as a whole. This great perception made 
itself felt as a definite element in a new scheme of 
education, through Pestalozzi, the saint and guru of 
teachers in the twentieth-century West. Pestalozzi 
saw that, if there were ever to be hope for the people, 
it must be through an education at once modern, that 
is liberal, psychological, that is founded on a know- 
ledge of mental laws, and in accordance with the his- 
toric development of man. 
The problem which the young student Pestalozzi, 
son and lover of the people, had to face at the end of 
the French Revolution, in Switzerland, was of trifling 
magnitude compared with that which confronts the 
son and lover of India to-day. And yet, in their inner- 
most nature, the two are identical. For this, like 
that, consists in the difficulty of opening up the human 
field to a new thought-harvest, while at the same time 
avoiding the evils of mere surface-culture. The soil 
that has brought forth the mango and the palm ought 
not to be degraded to producing only gourds and 
vetches. And similarly, the land of the Vedas and of 
Jn&na- Yoga has no right to sink into the r61e of mere 
critic or imitator of European letters. 
Yet this is the present condition of Indian culture, 
and it appears likely to remain so, unless the Indian 
mind can deliberately discipline itself to the historic 
point of view. To do this is like adjusting oneself to 
a new dimension. Things which were hitherto merged 
in each other all at once become distinct. That which 
till now was instinctive is suddenly seen to have a goal, 
which is capable, in its turn, of clear definition. The 
social and the religious idea, under Hinduism as under 
Islam, were in the past indistinguishable. Philo- 
sophically, of course, every tyro could detach one from 
the other; in practice, however, they were one, and 
could not be separated. For religious reasons, as was 
supposed, we must eat in a certain way, wear specified 
clothing, and fulfil a definite scheme of purification. 
Suddenly, through the modern catastrophe, the sun- 
light of comparison, contrast, and relativity is poured 
over the whole area, and we discover that by living up 
to custom, we have been not accumulating pious 
merit, but merely approximating to that ideal of ab- 
solute refinement, cleanliness, and purity, which is the 
dream of all fine human life, and which may as well, 
or better, be achieved by some other canon as by our 
own. Seeing the goal thus clearly, we become able to 
analyse and compare various methods ; to add to our 
own conduct the virtues of others, and to eliminate 
from it the defects of all. Above all, we find out how 
to distinguish effectively between the social idea and 
religion. It is thus that it becomes possible to talk 
of " aggressive Hinduism." 
Aggression is to be the dominant characteristic of 
the India that is to-day in school and class-room, 
aggression, and the thought and ideals of aggression. 
Instead of passivity, activity ; for the standard of weak- 
ness, the standard of strength ; in place of a steadily 
yielding defence, the ringing cheer of the invading host. 
Merely to change the attitude of the mind in this way 
is already to accomplish a revolution. And the incep- 
tion of some such change will have become evident to 
us all within a dozen years. 
But before the first step can be taken there must be 
clear thought about essentials. The object of all re- 
ligious systems is the formation of character. Theo- 
cratic systems aim at the construction of character 
through the discipline of personal habit. But at bottom 
it is character and not habit that they desire to create. 
No one will dispute that her ideals are a still prouder 
fruit of Hinduism than her widespread refinement. It 
is true that India is the only country in the world where 
a penniless wanderer may surpass a king in social pres- 
tige. But still grander is the fact that the king may 
be a Janaka, and the beggar a Suke Deva. 
Let us, then, touch on the comparative study of the 
value of habit as a factor in the evolution of character. 
We find in India that society watches a man all the 
years of his life, ready to criticize him for the hour at 
which he bathes and eats and prays, the mode of his 
travel, the fashion in which, perhaps, he wears his hair. 
To attempt a serious innovation on social custom in 
such directions as marriage or education seems to hor- 
rifled public opinion not merely selfish, but also sacri- 
legious. And this kind of criticism becomes more 
and more powerful over the individual as the villages 
empty themselves into the cities. For the man who 
might have had the courage to make his mark in the 
smaller community would think it presumptuous to 
go his own way in the larger. Hence the aggregation 
of men tends to become the multiplication of their 
weaknesses and defects. It is the mean and warped 
judgment that gains fastest in weight. 
But let us look at a community in which active ends 
and ideals are energetically pursued. Here a certain 
standard of personal refinement is exacted of the in- 
dividual, as rigidly as in India itself. But public 
opinion, being strong enough to kill, does not stoop to 
discuss such points. The learning of the method is 
relegated to the nursery, where it is imparted by 
women. Having passed through this stage of his 
education, it is not expected that the hero will fall 
short in future of its standards ; but if he did so, society 
would know how to punish him, by ignoring his exist- 
ence. Both he and society, meanwhile, are too busy 
with other efforts to be able to waste force on what 
is better left to his own pride. For a whole new range 
of ideals has now come in sight. From the time that 
a Western child steps out of the nursery, it is not 
quietness, docility, resignation, and obedience, that his 
teachers and guardians strive to foster in him, so much 
as strength, initiative, sense of responsibility, and 
power of rebellion. Temper and self-will are regarded 
by Western educators as a very precious power, which 
must by no means be crushed or destroyed, though 
they must undoubtedly be disciplined and subordinated 
to impersonal ends. It is for this reason that fighting 
is encouraged in the playgrounds, the only stipulation 
being for fairplay. To forbid a boy to undergo the 
physical ordeal, means, as we think, undermining his 
sincerity, as well as his courage. But for him to strike 
one who is weaker than himself is to stand disgraced 
amongst his equals. 
That is to say, a social evolution which in Asia has 
occupied many centuries is in the West relegated to, at 
most, the first ten years of a child's upbringing, and 
he then passes into the period of chivalry. Indeed if, 
as some suppose, the ten Avatars of Vishnu are but 
the symbol of a single perfect life, India herself has 
not failed to point this lesson. For after the stages of 
fish, tortoise, boar, and man-lion, are all safely and 
happily passed, and the child has become " a little 
man," it still remains for him to be twice a Kshatriya 
before he is able to become a Buddha. What is this 
but the modern generalization that the individual in 
his development follows the race ? And in the last 
sublime myth of Kalki, may it not be that we have the 
prophecy of a great further evolution, in which Buddha- 
hood itself shall plunge once more into a sovereign act 
of redeeming love and pity, and initiate, for every indi- 
vidual of us, the triumph of active and aggressive ideals ? 
Let us suppose, then, that we see Hinduism no 
longer as the preserver of Hindu custom, but as the 
creator of Hindu character. It is surprising to think 
how radical a change is entailed in many directions by 
this conception. We are no longer oppressed with 
jealousy or fear, when we contemplate encroachments 
on our social and religious consciousness. Indeed, the 
idea of encroachment has ceased, because our work is 
not now to protect ourselves but to convert others. 
Point by point, we are determined, not merely to keep 
what we had, but to win what we never had before. 
The question is no longer of other people's attitude to 
us, but, rather, of what we think of them. It is not, 
how much have we kept ? but, how much have we an- 
nexed ? We cannot afford, now, to lose, because we 
are sworn to carry the battle far beyond our remotest 
frontiers. We no longer dream of submission, because 
struggle itself has become only the first step towards 
a distant victory to be won. 
No other religion in the world is so capable of this 
dynamic transformation as Hinduism. To Nagarjuna 
and Buddhaghosha, the Many was real and the Ego un- 
real. To Sankaracharya, the One was real and the 
Many unreal. To Ramakrishna arid Vivekananda, the 
Many and the One were the same Reality, perceived 
differently and at different times by the human con- 
sciousness. Do we realize what this means ? It 
that laziness and defeat are not renunciation. It 
means that to protect another is infinitely greater than 
to attain salvation. It means that Mukti lies in over- 
coming the thirst for Mukti. It means that conquest 
may be the highest form of Sannyas. It means, in 
short, that Hinduism is become aggressive, that the 
trumpet of Kalki is sounded already in our midst, and 
that it calls all that is noble, all that is lovely, all that 
is strenuous and heroic amongst us, to a battlefield on 
which the bugles of retreat shall never more be heard. 
IT is small wonder if, in the act of transition from old 
forms to new, from a mode of thought some centuries 
venerable, to one untried, and at best but modern, 
it is small wonder if in the throes of so great a crisis, 
India should have passed through a generation or two 
of intellectual confusion. The astonishing phenome- 
non is rather the speed and ease of her re-adjustment. 
Within fifty years to have assimilated a new language, 
and that of an unforeseen type, and to have made 
changes at almost every rung in the ladder of ideal 
culture, is this a little thing ? Is it a fact that could 
be duplicated anywhere ? To speak, in reply, of Japan, 
is mere foolishness. The problem of Japan, when 
midway through the nineteenth century, could hardly 
be compared with that of India. A small and com- 
pact people, of single origin, inhabiting islands and 
strong in their sense of insularity, could naturally mobi- 
lize themselves in any direction they pleased. 
The trouble hitherto has been that the people were 
as passive to modern culture as to ancient. In a land 
where the segregation of the soul has been the aim of 
the highest thought and life, for thousands of years, it 
has not been easy to turn every energy suddenly in the 
direction of activity and mutual co-operation. At 
bottom, however, there is strength enough in India, 
and in spite of the demoralization of hunger and baf- 
139 10 
fled hope, her people are about to set foot on the 
threshold of a new era. The ebb of the tide has al- 
ready reached its utmost. The reaction of fortune is 
about to begin. That this is so, is due to the fact 
that at the beginning of the twentieth century the Indian 
people can take a bird's-eye view of their past history, 
and are able to understand clearly their true position. 
There is a saying in India that to see through Maya 
is to destroy her. But few realize how literally this 
is true. The disaster or difficulty that has ceased to 
confuse and bewilder us, is about to be defeated. The 
evil about which we can think and express ourselves 
clearly, has already lost its power. To measure our 
defeat accurately is to reverse it. When a people, 
as a people, from the highest to the lowest, are united 
in straight and steady understanding of their circum- 
stances, without doubt and without illusion, then events 
are about to precipitate themselves. Discrimination is 
the mark of the highest spirituality. Spirituality is the 
only irresistible force. Like the fire that wraps a 
forest in flame, is the power of the mind of a whole 
From the year 1858 onwards, there has been no 
possible goal for the Indian people but a complete as- 
similation of the modern consciousness. At that point 
the mediaeval order was at an end. Prithvi Rai and 
Shah Jehan, Asoka and Akbar were mingled in a 
common oblivion. Only the soil they had loved, only 
the people they had led, remained, to address them- 
selves to a new task, to stand or fall by their power to 
cope with a new condition. Sharp as the contrast be- 
tween the Gunga and the Jumna was the difference be- 
tween the mediaeval and the modern. Invincible as 
the resistless current of the Bhagirathi is that new 
India that is to be born of both. 
Up to the present, however, in the exhaustion of 
the transition, it has not been possible for the national 
mind to envisage the problem, so as to see or state its 
terms clearly. To-day this first stage is over. The 
Indian mind is no longer in blind collapse. It is 
awaking to fresh strength, and about to survey both 
past and present, that by their means it may determine 
and forecast its future. 
What are the differentia, what is the precise problem 
of this modern age ? Definitions are proverbially rash, 
but it is not difficult to state some facts and considera- 
tions bearing on this subject, with great precision. 
The outstanding fact about the modern period has been, 
undoubtedly, the geographical discovery of the world 
as a whole. The one characteristic of the modern 
mind, that makes it unlike the mind of any other age, 
is the completeness with which it is able to survey and 
define the surface of the planet Earth. The discovery 
of steam, with the consequent invention of railways 
and steamboats, has undoubtedly been the efficient 
cause of this exploration, and out of the consequent 
clash of faiths and cultures, has come the power to 
make the personal or mythological equation ; to cancel, 
more or less to one's own satisfaction, all the elements 
of local prejudice in a given problem ; and from this 
again has been born the ideal of modern science, of 
modern culture generally, the attempt to extract the 
root-fact from all the diversity of phenomena in which 
it clothes itself. 


In this way, the intellectual and spiritual discovery 
of the world has followed hard on the physical or 
geographical. In culture, a new era has been pro- 
claimed. It is no longer enough to know one thing 
well. It is also incumbent upon us to understand its 
place amongst other things, and its relation to the 
scheme of knowledge as a whole. 
The pioneers of modernism, meanwhile, have been 
dominated by the ideal of the machine, to which they 
have owed so much of their success. To this fact we 
may trace our present-day standards of order and 
efficiency. A large house of business, with its staff, is 
simply a human machine of an intricate kind. It has 
been said that the Oriental regards his servants as 
personal attendants, the Western as so many hidden 
machines. Nothing could be more true. The Oriental 
is in every case an agriculturist, accustomed to the 
picturesque disorder of seed-time and harvest, cowshed 
and barn, and far from irritated by it. Every thought 
and habit of the Western, on the other hand, is domin- 
ated by the notion of mechanical accuracy and effici- 
ency, and by the effort of the mechanician to achieve 
a given end by the most economical possible means. 
In a society in which the highest knowledge fulfils 
the twofold test of order and synthesis, the great sin 
is provincialism. And here the new world differs from 
the old, in which the tastes of aristocrats were supreme, 
and mortal crime lay in vulgarity. 
But while the great intellectual and social failure of 
to-day lies in provincialism, no serious mind assumes 
that the world-idea is to be arrived at easily. Only 
the tree that is firm-rooted in its own soil can offer us 
a perfect crown of leaf and blossom. And similarly, 
only the heart that responds perfectly to the claims of 
its immediate environment, only the character that 
fulfils to the utmost its stint of civic duty, only this 
heart and mind is capable of taking its place in the 
ranks of the truly cosmopolitan. Only the fully na- 
tional can possibly contribute to the cosmo-national. 
And this is understood to-day by cultured persons, 
all the world over. The cheap superciliousness of the 
young man who, on leaving his village in Kamschatka 
or Uganda, has been initiated into the habits and 
manners of the European democracy, and takes himself 
for this reason as an exalted and competent critic of 
his own people, only evokes a smile. No one desires 
his acquaintance, for he has nothing to add to the 
thought-world of those with whom he is so proud to 
have been associated. Every act, every movement, 
writes large across his forehead the word "snob." 
On the other hand, to take one's stand persistently 
on the local prejudices of the village in Kamschatka or 
Uganda, is, though infinitely more manly and self-re- 
specting, almost as futile. It is better to be provincial 
than to be vulgar, for our horror of vulgarity is the 
longer-grown. But both miss the effective achievement. 
What the time demands of us is that in us our whole 
past shall be made a part of the world's life. This is 
what is called the realization of the national idea. But 
it must be realized everywhere, in the world idea. In 
order to attain a larger power of giving, we may break 
through any barrier of custom. But it is written inex- 
orably in the very nature of things that, if we sacrifice 
custom merely for some mean or selfish motive, fine 
men and women everywhere will refuse to admit us to 
their fellowship. 
Cosmo-nationality of thought and conduct, then, is 
not easy for any man to reach. Only through a per- 
fect realization of his own nationality can anyone, any- 
where, win to it. And cosmo-nationality consists in 
holding the local idea in the world idea. It is well known 
that culture is a matter of sympathy, rather than of 
information. It would follow that the cultivation of 
the sense of humanity as a whole, is the essential fea- 
ture of a modern education. But this cannot be 
achieved by mere geographical knowledge. The uni- 
fication of the world -has emancipated the human mind 
to some extent, and we now understand that a man's 
character is the sum of his assimilated experiences ; in 
other words, that his history is written in his face. And 
what is true of persons we see also to be true of 
countries. The very landscape is a key to the hopes 
and dreams of men. Their hopes and dreams explain 
to us the heritage they have left. History, then, is as 
essential to the modern consciousness as geography. 
It is the second dimension, as it were, of Truth, as we 
now seek it, naked and dynamic. 
Our changed attitude changes all our conceptions. 
We make a new survey of our knowledge, and are no 
longer content to view dog as dog and cow as cow, 
but must needs learn all the links and developments 
between them. Their very differences are now re- 
garded by us as a guarantee of their fundamental com- 
munity of origin. We break open the rocks and scour 
the waste places of the earth, that we may find forms 
which will explain to us the divergence of horse- 
hoof from cow-hoof, reptile from fish, and bird from 
Or we turn to the study of art and letters. Here 
again, our scrutiny has entered on the comparative 
stage. If we investigate the records of Baghdad, we 
must understand also those of Moorish Spain. It is 
not enough to follow the course of chivalry in France, 
unless we also assist at its birth in the German forests. 
Our idea of unity has become organic, evolutionary, 
and some picture of the movement and clash of the 
world as a whole is an overmastering need. 
Yet even the finest mind is limited by its own 
ignorance. What a painful blank in modern culture 
whenever we come upon the word " China " ! How little 
has it been possible to say about India to which any 
cultivated Indian can give more than a pitying smile ! 
And how utterly misunderstood is the Mohammedan 
world ! The world of culture, be it remembered, is not 
tainted by political corruption. Race-prejudice has 
no place in the ideal aspiration after knowledge. Why 
then should a silence, almost political, pervade the 
spaces that ought to be filled with Oriental interpre- 
tation, in modern thought ? 
The reason, as regards India, is easy enough to find. 
The Indian mind has not reached out to conquer and 
possess its own land as its own inalienable share and 
trust, in the world as a whole. It has been content, 
even in things modern, to take obediently whatever 
was given to it. And the newness and strangeness 
of the thing given, has dazed it. The Indian people 
as a whole for the last two generations have been as 
men walking in a dream, without manhood, without 
power to react freely against conditions, without even 
common- sense. 
But to-day, in the deliberate adoption of an aggres- 
sive policy, we have put all this behind us. Realizing 
that life is struggle, we are now determined that our 
wrestling with the powers that are against us, shall 
enable us to contribute to the world's sum of culture, 
not merely to make adaptations from it. Our part 
henceforth is active, and not passive. The Indianizing 
of India, the organizing of our national thought, the 
laying out of our line of march, all this is to be done by 
us, not by others on our behalf. We accept no more 
programmes. Henceforth are we become the makers 
of programmes. We obey no more policies. Hence- 
forth do we create policies. We refuse longer to call 
by the name of " education " the apprenticeship neces- 
sary for a ten-rupee clerkship. We put such things in 
their true place. We ordain ourselves intellectually 
free. What then is the task before us ? 
Our task is to translate ancient knowledge into 
modern equivalents. We have to clothe the old 
strength in a new form. The new form without that 
old strength is nothing but a mockery : almost equally 
foolish is the savage anachronism of an old-time power 
without fit expression. Spiritually, intellectually, there 
is no undertaking but we must attempt it. 
Great realms of the ideal open for our exploration. 
New conceptions of life and duty and freedom ; new 
ideas of citizenship ; untried expressions of love and 
friendship into all these we must throw ourselves with 
burning energy, and make them our own. 
We must create a history of India in living terms. 
Up to the present that history, as written in English, 
practically begins with Warren Hastings, and crams 
in certain unavoidable preliminaries, which cover a few 
thousands of years, and, troublesome as they are, cannot 
be altogether omitted ! All this is merely childish 
and has to be brought to the block. The history of 
India has yet to be written for the first time. It has 
to be humanized, emotionalized, made the trumpet- 
voice and evangel of the races that inhabit India. 
And to do this, it must be re-connected with place. 
Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay, are the present view- 
points. Surely the heroes that sleep on ancient battle- 
fields, the forefathers that made for themselves the 
wide-walled cities, the scholars ithat left behind them 
precious thought and script, have laughed sometimes 
when they have not wept to see from high heaven 
the grotesque docility of their descendants ! The 
history of India consists in truth of the strata of at 
least three thousand years. Ocean-bed and river- 
sands, forest and marsh, and ocean-floor again, lie 
piled one upon the other and in each period some new 
point is centre. Ayodhya, and Hastinapura, In- 
draprastha and Pataliputra, Ujjain and Delhi, Conjeeve- 
ram and Amaravati, what of the vanished worlds of 
which all these were born ? There is no evangel without 
worship. Throw yourselves, children of India, into the 
worship of these and your whole past. Strive passion- 
ately for knowledge. Yours are the spades and mattocks 
of this excavation. For with you and not with the 
foreigner are the thought and language that will make 
it easy to unearth the old significance. India's whole 
hope lies in a deeper research, a more rigid investiga- 
tion of facts. With her, encouragement, and not des- 
pair, is on the side of truth ! 
Great literatures have to be created in each of the 
vernaculars. These literatures must voice the past, 
translate the present, forecast the future. The science 
and the imagination of Europe have to be brought, 
through the vernacular, to every door. India cannot 
afford to imitate foreign institutions. Neither can she 
afford to remain ignorant of foreign ideals. The his- 
tory of the past has to be re-written in simple terms. 
True hope for the time to come must fill all hearts, 
like a nation's Common Prayer. On the creation of 
such vernacular literatures depends the effective edu- 
cation of women. 
Art must be reborn. Not the miserable travesty of 
would-be Europeanism that we at present know. 
There is no voice like that of art to reach the people. 
A song, a picture, may be the fiery cross l that reaches 
all the tribes, and makes them one. And art will be 
reborn, for she has found a new subject, India herself. 
Ah, to be a thinker in bronze and give to the world 
the beauty of the Southern flariak, as he swings, scarce 
clad, along the Beach-Road at Madras ! Ah to be a 
Millet, and paint the woman worshipping at dawn be- 
side the sea ! Oh for a pencil that would interpret 
the beauty of the Indian sari ; the gentle life of village 
and temple ; the coming and going at the Ganges' side ; 
the play of the children ; the faces, and the labours, 
of the cows ! 
1 A rough cross of charred wood used to be passed from clan to clan 
in the Scottish Highlands, as the call to war. We all know the folded 
chapati of the Indian villages. 
But far more, on behalf of India herself, do we need 
artists, half poets and half draughtsmen, who can wake 
in us the great new senses. We want men of the 
Indian blood who can portray for us the men of old, 
Bhishma and Yudhisthira, Akbar and Sher Shah, 
Pratap Singh and Chand Bibi, in such fashion as to 
stir the blood. We want through these to feel out, as 
a people, towards the new duties of the time to be. 
Not only to utter India to the world, but also to voice 
India to herself, this is the mission of art, divine 
mother of the ideal, when it descends to clothe itself 
in forms of realism. 
At each step, then, the conquest must be twofold. 
On this side something to be added to the world's 
knowledge, and on that an utterance to be given for 
the first time for India to herself. This is the battle 
that opens before the present generation. On our 
fighting a good fight, the very existence, it may be, of 
the next depends. Our national life is become per- 
force a national assault. As yet the very outworks 
of the besieged city are almost unstormed. Herewith 
then let us sound the charge. Sons of the Indian past, 
do ye fear to sleep at nightfall on your shields ? On, 
on, in the name of a new spirituality, to command the 
treasures of the modern world ! On, on, soldiers of 
the Indian Motherland, seize ye the battlements and 
penetrate to the citadel ! Place garrison and watch 
within the hard-won towers, or fall, that others may 
climb on your dead bodies to the height ye strove to 
win ! 
THE adoption of the active or aggressive attitude of 
mind changes for us all our theories. We sight now 
nothing but the goal. Means have become ends, ends 
means. The power to count the cost and hesitate is 
gone for ever. We seek great objects and create them, 
scorning small hopes. The India about us has become 
Maha BMrata, Heroic India. The future offers 
wider chances of sacrifice than the past. We look to 
make our descendants greater than our ancestors. 
Words have changed their meanings. Karma is no 
longer a destiny but an opportunity. Do I behold 
injustice? Mine the right to prohibit oppression, and 
I do it. Before the honest indignation of one fearless 
man, the whole of Maya trembles and departs. Des- 
tiny is passive before me. I triumph over it. Strength 
is the power to take our own life, at its most perfect, 
and break it if need be across the knee. This strength 
is now ours, and with it we conquer the earth. No 
one is so invincible as the man who has not dreamed 
of defeat, because he has a world beyond victory to 
Our desires have grown immeasurable. But they 
are desires to give, not to receive. We would fain win, 
that we may abandon to those behind us, and pass on. 
For that which is dearer to us than self, we long 


greatly to throw away our life, and this defeated sacri- 
fice transforms all our work with energy. The whole 
of life becomes the quest of death. Those that are 
close to us become associated with ourselves in our 
risks and defiances. We learn to realize that in this 
fact lies their beatitude. Buddha did not sacrifice 
Yasodhara when he left her. He conferred on her the 
glory of renouncing with him. 
Or is it Brahmacharya ? This is not only for the 
monk. Nor is it wholly of the body. " Abstinence," 
says one, " without a great purpose, is nothing. It is 
only the loss of another power." But even Brahma- 
charya has to be made aggressive. Celibacy, here, is 
only the passive side of a life that sees human beings 
actively as minds and souls. Marriage itself ought to 
be, in the first place, a friendship of the mind. Ex- 
change of thought and communion of struggle is far 
beyond the offering of comfort, and the one need not 
exclude the other. The brahmacharya of the hero 
makes marriage noble, for it seeks the good of another 
as an end in itself. In true Brahmacharya is involved 
the education of women, for a radiant purity comes to 
its perfect fruition in thought and knowledge and as- 
similation of experience, and there is a brahmacharya 
of the wife as well as of the nun. 
In the life of Tapasya is constant renewal of energy 
and light. Every task becomes easy to the worshipper 
of Sarasvati. He spurns ease. Daily and hourly 
does the impersonal triumph in him over the personal. 
His ideal aspires upward like a living flame. Each 
circle reveals fresh heights to be gained. The wife 
shares in the ideals of her husband. She protects them, 
as if they were her children, even against himself. She 
urges him on towards them, when alone he might 
have flagged. She measures their common glory by 
the degree of this realization. Her womanhood is grave 
and tender like some sacrament of the eternal. " Not 
this, not this, " is the cry ever in the ears of both. 
Counting happiness for self a little thing, each gives 
it to the other in seeking to bestow it on the world 
Sannyasin, again, is a word charged with new signifi- 
cance. It is not his gerrua cloth, but his selflessness, 
that makes a monk. There may be monks of science 
and learning, monks of art and industry, monks of the 
public life and service, and monks for the defence of 
the defenceless. Great is the impulse of renunciation : 
greater is the sustained self-sacrifice of a heroic life. In 
the soul of the maha-purusha it is difficult, sometimes, 
to tell whether soldier or sannyasin is predominant. 
He combines the daring of the one with the freedom 
of the other. Years leave no mark on the aggressive 
life. It is as ready to cast itself down from the palm- 
tree's height, in old age, as it was in youth. Or more. 
For the spiritual will has grown stronger with time. 
Nothing is measured by personal hope or fear. All is 
tested by the supreme purpose, as making an end in 
itself. Self ceases to be a possible motive. The hand 
once put to the plough, it grows there, and the man 
would not know how to turn back. The sannyasin 
cannot be touched by misery. For him defeat is merely 
a passing phase. Ultimate victory is inevitable. He 
is light-hearted in failure, as in success. 
Obedience to the guru becomes eager fulfilment of 
an idea, and a seeking out of new ways in which to bring 
about fulfilment. Every act of attainment is now un- 
derstood to be a spiritual achievement, and there is no 
rest without the handing on of each realization, as to 
disciples. At the same time, the standard of disciple- 
ship has grown inexorable. There is no passing of 
the spurious coin as genuine. The aspirant must serve, 
because without much service there is no germination 
of truth. He must worship, because without loyalty 
there is no manhood. But one stain of insincerity, 
one blemish of self-interest, and the guru must recog- 
nize though to do so be like going maimed for life, 
that this is not that chela for whom all gurus seek. 
Love and hatred are now immense powers. Love, 
when no longer personal, when all strength, becomes 
rousing, invigorating, life-giving. Hatred is the refusal 
to compromise. It cuts off meanness and falsehood 
root and branch. Love, now, finds unity of intention 
behind everything that is sincere. Pride is too proud 
to found itself on a lie. The man is silent until he 
has first acted. Nor dare he boast himself of the 
deeds of his ancestors or the achievements of his 
fellows. A fierce humility mingles with all his am- 
bition and tells him that praise from unworthy lips is 
And finally the life's purpose has become a consuming 
fire. The object is desired for its own sake. Like Shivi- 
Rana, whose whole soul was set on sacrifice, the left 
side weeps that to the right alone it is given to suffer. 
Like Myer the German chemist, who had an eye and 
an arm torn off in the discovery of nitrogen compounds, 
the soul kneels in the midst of agony, to give thanks 
in an ecstasy that enough is still left to continue the 
search for knowledge. The vibration of the word 
Work when uttered by such workmen, carries the 
thrill offndna to other hearts. 
Strong as the thunder-bolt, austere as Brahmacharya, 
great-hearted and selfless, such should be that sannya- 
sin who has taken the service of others as his Sannyas, 
and not less than this should be the son of a militant 
THE papers contained in this volume were written for an 
almost exclusively Indian audience. A brief glossary, how- 
ever, is appended for the assistance of the European reader 
who may be unfamiliar with the Sanskrit words in the text. 
Sister Nivedita, in her occasional writing, adopted conveni- 
ent spellings. Some of the words require, of course, a much 
fuller interpretation. 
Jnana- Yoga. 
Literally, " One without a second." Absolute monism ; 
one of the four principal schools of Vedanta philoso- 
The self. 
Devotional song. 
One who has attained through devotion or love. 
Realization of the Divinity through love or devotion. 
Pupilage in divine knowledge during celibacy. 
The one Existence, the Absolute. 
The orange-coloured garment of the ascetic. 
The stage of worldly and family life being one of the 
four stages into which a Hindu's life is traditionally 
Teacher, spiritual preceptor. 
Devotion towards the Guru. 
Prayer, with the telling of beads. 
Birth, life, incarnation. 
Realization through knowledge. 
One who has attained through knowledge. 
Work ; also the results of work. The law of cause and 
effect in the moral world. 
Realization by a life of action or work. 
The Great Soul. 
Maya. The conception of the universe in its phenomenal (illu- 
sory) aspect, or as relative existence. 
Mukti. Deliverence ; complete realization. 
Nirvikalpa Super-consciousness, in which the consciousness of 
Samcldhi. knowledge, subject, and object disappears. 
Para. Quarter (of a city). 
Pranam. Bowing, salutation. 
Puja. Worship. 
Punya. Religious merit. 
Rishi. Sage ; master of divine wisdom. 
Sachchid- The three attributes of the Absolute : Sa* (Being), Chit 
dnanda. (Knowledge), Anand (Bliss). 
Sadhan&. Originally, the propitiation of the elemental powers for 
achieving a desired object or result ; spiritual en- 
deavour towards attainment ; the life of realization. 
Sadhu. Saint, religious mendicant. 
Samadhi. Super-consciousness, trance. 
Dharma. Eternal religion. 
Sannyas. Renunciation of worldly life. 
Sannyasin. One who has renounced worldly life ; a religious ascetic. 
Sari. The garment of the Indian woman. 
Sloka. A Sanskrit verse, a couplet. 
Swadharma. One's own duty varying with the different capacities 
in which a man stands in relation to God, the world, 
country, state, family, etc. 
Tamas. Darkness, inertia. 
Tamasic. Relating to Tamas. 
Tapasya. Life regulated on the practice of Tapas. 
Tapas. Fasting and other ways of controlling the body. 
Thakur-ghar. The household oratory; usually a small structure of 
wood or metal, in which the images are kept and the 
worship is performed. 
Tirtha. Pilgrimage, also a place of pilgrimage. 
Ty^gi. One who has renounced the world. 
Vairagyam. Renunciation. 
Vedanta. The system of transcendental philosophy so named 
because founded upon the latter part of the Vedas : 
conceived as embodying the ultimate aim of the 
Vedas. " The oldest name of the oldest philosophy 
in India " (Max Miiller). 
Yoga. Literally, joining ; the union of the lower self with the 
higher self. 
Yogi. One who practises yoga. 
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