struggled for and then thrown aside as beneath his worth.'
To Mary Hale, who 'has been always the sweetest note in my jarring and clashing life,'
he wrote on March 26,1900:
This is to let you know 'I am very happy.' Not that I am getting into a shadowy
optimism, but my power of suffering is increasing. I am being lifted up above the
pestilential miasma of this world's joys and sorrows. They are losing their meaning. It
is a land of dreams. It does not matter whether one enjoys or weeps — they are but
dreams, and as such must break sooner or later....I am attaining peace that passeth
understanding — which is neither joy nor sorrow, but something above them both. Tell
Mother (Referring to Mrs. Hale) that. My passing through the valley of death —
physical, mental — these last two years, has helped me in this. Now I am nearing that
Peace, the eternal Silence. Now I mean to see things as they are — everything in that
Peace — perfect in its way. 'He whose joy is only in himself, whose desires are only in
himself' he has learnt his lessons. This is the great lesson that we are here to learn
through myriads of births and heavens and hells: There is nothing to be sought for,
asked for, desired, beyond one's self. The greatest thing I can obtain is myself. I am
free — therefore I require none else for my happiness. Alone through eternity — ;
because I was free, am free, and will remain free for ever. This is Vedantism. I
preached the theory so long, but oh, joy! Mary, my dear sister, I am realizing it now
every day. Yes, I am. I am free — Alone — Alone. I am, the One without a second.
Vivekananda's eyes were looking at the light of another world, his real abode. And
how vividly and touchingly he expressed his nostalgic yearning to return to it, in his
letter of April 18, 1900, written from Alameda, California, to Miss MacLeod, his ever
loyal Joe:
Just now I received your and Mrs. Bull's welcome letter. I direct this to London. I am
so glad Mrs. Leggett is on the sure way to recovery.
I am so sorry Mr. Leggett resigned the presidentship.
Well, I keep quiet for fear of making further trouble. You know my methods are
extremely harsh, and once roused I may rattle Abhedananda too much for his peace of
mind.
I wrote to him only to tell him his notions about Mrs. Bull are entirely wrong.
Work is always difficult. Pray for me, Joe, that my work may stop for ever and my
whole soul be absorbed in Mother. Her work She knows.
You must be glad to be in London once more — the old friends — give them all my