The Hearts of Men

by H. Fielding

"It is Christian Science," she told me.

Then she proceeded to tell me much about this Christian science, that it was the science of looking at the best side of things, that it cured the body by mind, despair by hope, darkness by light, solitude by a sense of the companionship of God (good). She had proof in her own family of what a change it can bring to the unhappy. It was, she said, all new, and discovered by Mrs. Eddy.

This was not, of course, the first I had heard of this strange cult. It has been in the air for some time past. Mostly it has been jeered at as an absurdity by those who have looked only at the extraordinary claims it makes, at the intellectual fog it offers as thought, at the childishness and inconsequence of whatever conceptions could be picked out of the maze of words; and up till then it had seemed to me but another of those misty foolishnesses that amuse people who have nothing else to do.

But when a case of real benefit, of benefit I could see and understand, was offered me in proof of its value, it seemed to me worth while to consider what there was in this teaching, to see what sense lay in this apparent senselessness, and to what want this new science appealed.

I have mentioned elsewhere in this book—it is a fact that comes to one who has been in the East many years very strongly—the aimless pessimism that is so prevalent in England and Europe. I am not here concerned with its cause. Mainly, perhaps, it is due to the rise of a great class of middle and upper-middle people who have no object in life. They have by inheritance or acquirement enough money to live upon, and the struggle for life passes them by. They have no necessity to work, and they are not endowed with the brain or energy necessary to take to themselves some object or pursuit. Their minds and sympathies have never been trained by necessity. They have fallen out of the great world of life and passion into eddies and backwaters. They have become flabby, both bodily, mentally, and emotionally, and, conscious of their own uselessness, they have fallen into the saddest pessimism. They are not blasé, because they have never tasted the realities of life; they have few friends, because they have no common interest to bind them to others. Their lives are monotonies, and their thoughts and speech are a prolonged whine. They are perpetually searching and never finding, because they know not what they seek. Most of them are women, but there are men also. I do not mean that all Christian Scientists are from the ranks of the unemployed. It is recruited also from those who with larger needs for emotion find the circumstances of ordinary life too narrow for them, from the over nervous and weak of all classes. But the majority are, I think, of those who do nothing.

They turn to the established religions, vaguely hoping for the emotional stimulus they need, but they fail to find it.

I am not quite sure why. One Christian Scientist assured me that Mrs. Eddy had discovered, all out of her own mind, that God was Love, and that was why Christian Science was so successful. This was a lady who had gone to church regularly all her life. Yet she supposed this a new discovery! A strange but not at all solitary instance of what I have so often found, that the immense majority who call themselves Christians have never tried to realize what their religion is. Many others have told me that they are "Christian Scientists" for other allied reasons. But no doubt the great attraction of Christian Science is in its doctrine, that bodily ills can be cured by mental effort, the assertion that evil exists only in the mind. This is, of course, nothing new. Faith healing has been common in all stages of the world, has allied itself to all religions. There is the standing example of Lourdes to-day, there was the relic worship of the middle ages, the pilgrimages and washings in sacred pools. It is common all over the world. The good effects attributed, and often truly, to charms and magic are but another instance of it. A great deal of the sickness and unhappiness of the world has always been purely the result of a diseased thought acting upon the body. The great antidote the world has always offered to this evil has been work. In daily work, in the necessity for daily effort, in the forced detachment of mind it brings on, in the interest that a worker is obliged to take in his work lest he fail, or even starve, lies the great tonic. And to this has been always added the belief in some religious rite, or in charms.

But these resources are closed to the unhappy class that I am writing of. They need not work. They never have worked at anything, and know not how to do it. Even from childhood their brains have been relaxed and their interests narrowed. Yet a great interest is a necessity for all men and women. But consider the lives of these people, especially of the women, how terrible it is. There is nothing they care for, nothing. One day of monotony is added to another for ever. Marriage and children may dissipate it for a time, may give them the interest they require, but it does not last long. Love fades into indifference, the children grow up. They no longer need care and thought, and there is nothing else. Dull, blank misery descends upon them as a garment never to be lifted.

And if the love be a disappointment, a tragedy, then what help is there anywhere? "Let me die," she cries, "and be done with it. Life is not worth living." The world is horrible, because they see the world through glasses dimmed with their own misery.

To them comes Mrs. Eddy and says, "All the evil you feel, the mental sickness, the bodily sickness, is imaginary. Face your evils in the certainty that they are but bogies and they will flee before you. You shall again become well and strong, and life shall be worth living."