Last Sunday I gave myself the pleasure of attending the service held in Copley hall. The spacious apartment was thronged with a congregation whose remarkable earnestness impressed the observer. There was no straggling of late-comers. Before the appointed hour every seat in the hall was filled and a large number of chairs pressed into service for the overflowing throng. The music was spirited, and the selections from the Bible and from SCIENCE AND HEALTH were finely read by Judge Hanna. Then came his sermon, which dealt directly with the command of Christ to "Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the leper, cast out demons." In his admirable discourse, Judge Hanna said that while all these injunctions could, under certain conditions, be interpreted and fulfilled literally, the special lesson was to be taken spiritually—to cleanse the leprosy of sin, to cast out the demons of evil thought. The discourse was able, and helpful in its suggestive interpretation.
THE CHURCH MEMBERS.
Later I was told that almost the entire congregation was composed of persons who had either been themselves, or had seen members of their own families, healed by Christian Science treatment; and I was further told that once when a Boston clergyman remonstrated with Judge Hanna for enticing a separate congregation rather than offering their strength to unite with churches already established—I was told he replied that the Christian Science church did not recruit itself from other churches, but from the graveyards! The church numbers now 4,000 members, but this estimate, as I understand, is not limited to the Boston adherents, but includes those all over the country. The ceremonial of uniting is to sign a brief "confession of faith," written by Mrs. Eddy, and to unite in communion, which is not celebrated by outward symbols of bread and wine, but by uniting in silent prayer.
The "confession of faith" includes the declaration that the Scriptures are the guide to eternal life; that there is a Supreme Being, and his Son, and the Holy Ghost, and that man is made in his image. It affirms the atonement; it recognizes Jesus as the teacher and guide to salvation; the forgiveness of sin by God, and affirms the power of truth over error, and the need of living faith at the moment to realize the possibilities of the divine life. The entire membership of Christian Scientists throughout the world now exceeds 200,000 people. The church in Boston was organized by Mrs. Eddy, and the first meeting held on April 19, 1879. It opened with twenty-six members, and within fifteen years it has grown to its present impressive proportions, and has now its own magnificent church building, costing over $200,000, and entirely paid for when its consecration service on January 6 shall be celebrated. This is certainly a very remarkable retrospect.
Rev. Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of this denomination and discoverer of Christian Science, as they term her work in affirming the present application of the principles asserted by Jesus, is a most interesting personality. At the risk of colloquialism, I am tempted to "begin at the beginning" of my own knowledge of Mrs. Eddy, and take, as the point of departure, my first meeting with her and the subsequent development of some degree of familiarity with the work of her life which that meeting inaugurated for me.
MRS. EDDY.
It was during some year in the early '80's that I became aware—from that close contact with public feeling resulting from editorial work in daily journalism—that the Boston atmosphere was largely thrilled and pervaded by a new and increasing interest in the dominance of mind over matter, and that the central figure in all this agitation was Mrs. Eddy. To a note which I wrote her, begging the favor of an interview for press use, she most kindly replied, naming an evening on which she would receive me. At the hour named I rang the bell at a spacious house on Columbus avenue, and I was hardly more than seated before Mrs. Eddy entered the room. She impressed me as singularly graceful and winning in bearing and manner, and with great claim to personal beauty. Her figure was tall, slender, and as flexible in movement as that of a Delsarte disciple; her face, framed in dark hair and lighted by luminous blue eyes, had the transparency and rose-flush of tint so often seen in New England, and she was magnetic, earnest, impassioned. No photographs can do the least justice to Mrs. Eddy, as her beautiful complexion and changeful expression cannot thus be reproduced. At once one would perceive that she had the temperament to dominate, to lead, to control, not by any crude self-assertion, but a spiritual animus. Of course such a personality, with the wonderful tumult in the air that her large and enthusiastic following excited, fascinated the imagination. What had she originated? I mentally questioned this modern St. Catherine who was dominating her followers like any abbess of old. She told me the story of her life, so far as outward events may translate those inner experiences which alone are significant.
Mary Baker was the daughter of Mark and Abigail (Ambrose) Baker, and was born in Concord, N.H., somewhere in the early decade of 1820-'30. At the time I met her she must have been some sixty years of age, yet she had the coloring and the elastic bearing of a woman of thirty, and this, she told me, was due to the principles of Christian Science. On her father's side Mrs. Eddy came from Scotch and English ancestry, and Hannah Moore was a relative of her grandmother. Deacon Ambrose, her maternal grandfather, was known as a "godly man," and her mother was a religious enthusiast, a saintly and consecrated character. One of her brothers, Albert Baker, graduated at Dartmouth and achieved eminence as a lawyer.
MRS. EDDY AS A CHILD.
As a child Mary Baker saw visions and dreamed dreams. When eight years of age she began, like Jeanne d'Arc, to hear "voices," and for a year she heard her name called distinctly, and would often run to her mother questioning if she were wanted. One night the mother related to her the story of Samuel, and bade her, if she heard the voice again to reply as he did: "Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth." The call came, but the little maid was afraid and did not reply. This caused her tears of remorse and she prayed for forgiveness, and promised to reply if the call came again. It came, and she answered as her mother had bidden her, and after that it ceased.