The Church of St. Bunco Part 1

The Church of St. Bunco.

by Gordon Clark.

PREFACE.

The purpose of this book is not to deny the power of mind over matter, or of the human mind over the human body, but to show that the foolish and pestilent thing termed "Christian Science" is a leech fastened upon these great truths, mostly, if not wholly, to batten on them.

There is no use of saying this to "Christian Scientists" themselves--an obedient chain-gang in hypnotic servitude. But people who are not already "in Science" (to use the shibboleth of those who are), ought to be prompted not to get there. The best way in general, I think, is to show that even the historical and biographical claims at the base of the movement are false. If the personal veracity of the head of a church cannot be trusted, "divine revelations," "miracles" and "mental medicine,"

proceeding from such a source, will naturally be accepted only by the very soft, or else by the very hard for solid considerations.

Is there no sincerity, then, in "Christian Science"? Of course there is.

Even the "discoverer and founder" of it undoubtedly believes certain of its a.s.severations. Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy must be credited, for instance, with the conviction that she has some knowledge of "metaphysics"--a conviction that is nothing worse than a pitiable mistake, which is exploded here at some length. When, as a result of this mistake, she teaches that matter is nothing--not even a condition of anything--only sincerity can account for such lunacy. Yet herein "Christian Science" has its whole rational, or rather irrational, breath of life.

Some "Christian Scientists" sincerely believe in an equivalent for "black magic." As, in their view, "concentration of mind" can cure disease, they think it can also throw disease upon enemies, or upon backsliders from "science." It has been suggested even to the present writer that illness might be cast upon him if he antagonized "the true faith." According to certain dissidents from "Christian Science," "black magic," though with much talk of "chastening love"--(every crime of religious hypocrisy is always committed in the name of "love")--has been persistently tried on heretical wanderers. In the natural course of time some of them are dead; but those whom I have met are not only living, they are comfortably fat.

As "Christian Science" has to me no genuine basis, either in facts, science, theology, metaphysics or therapeutics, but is a mendacious, contradictory, pretentious humbug, I do not hesitate to use such weapons, whether narration, logic, or satire, as are adapted to puncture it. We hear that "Christian Science" has done good. So it has, in some instances, but only through means which it pretends to repudiate, and through the trustful ignorance of those who have been duped by it. We hear, also, that "Christian Scientists" are specially "educated and intelligent." I deny it. No one of them seems ever to have heard of the history of philosophy--a cemetery in which have long lain buried the most of "Mother"

Eddy's "divine revelations," "original discoveries" and "absolute demonstrations." Her followers can doubtless _read_, or they would not be available as purchasers of her _Science and Health_; but, if they could _think_, they never would have read the book through. From beginning to end, it is simply a batch of self-contradictions and self-nullities. These are capped with the most impudent claim ever uttered on earth--the claim that the human mind in its natural state cannot comprehend the divine mind incarnate in the author. If caustic is applied to such nonsense, there is no need of apology. The only doubt is that the malefaction is worth the burning.

G. C.

THE CHURCH OF ST. BUNCO.

CHAPTER I.

A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE THING.

The date of this writing is the year 1901.

About a quarter of a century ago, Boston, the city of modified Puritans and keen business thrift, evolved a new religion. Modern Boston, however, being nothing if not "scientific," the new religion tipped its wings with the new time, and soared aloft in the name of "Christian Science."

In a world not quite converted to this "science," facts sometimes fall behind a.s.sertions. But the sect of Christian Science now claims to number in its fold a million sheep. The "mother church," of course, is in Boston; but daughter churches of every age and size are budding and blooming throughout the earth. At headquarters Christian Science has its official weekly organ, its official monthly magazine, and its official publishing house. The cult has issued innumerable books, but specially the multifarious editions of _Science and Health_, the chief work of the adored "mother" and "founder" of Christian Science, Mrs. Mary Baker G.

Eddy. As the latest edition of this sacred book is always the best, and as the holy author carefully recommends it as such to all the faithful--whatever other editions they possess--its very high price, under copyright,[1] as compared with undivine books, has rendered it a magnificent source of income. Then, as the average fee for blessing a disciple of Christian Science with a dozen lessons in "metaphysics" and "healing" has been three hundred dollars,[2] a grateful providence through long years, has not only provided food and raiment for "Mother Eddy," but a rich abundance, too, of such worldly goods as should adorn and stimulate perfect piety, not excepting the whitest of diamonds, as symbols of purity, for herself and the elect of her household. Why not? Her devotees are strict adherents of Scripture--always as she interprets it for them--and she believes, for all the text will yield, that "the laborer is worthy of his hire."

Now, apart from the name and the church of Christian Science, there are many people in Boston and its universal radiations--very intelligent and honest people, too--who utterly discard Mrs. Eddy and her teachings, yet hold the general doctrine on which she speculates--the now well-known doctrine that mind governs matter, and that the soul can cure the body of disease. The teaching of these people may simply be termed "mental healing," though they say also "mental science," sometimes "metaphysics"

and comprehensively "the new thought."

Of late much has been said and written against Christian Science; but adverse criticism has proceeded mostly from physicians in the interest of their schools and theologians in the interest of their creeds. These good souls have taken Christian Science seriously, like the innocent followers of Mrs. Eddy herself. But as soon as a general investigator touches the fad, especially the history of it, he sees that, whatever its effects may have been--good, bad or indifferent--it began in false pretenses,[3] has been pushed for money, and is one of the most shallow humbugs that ever tricked an epoch in the cloak of religion, or reduced "metaphysics" to lunacy. Hence our t.i.tle. The Church of St. Bunco is the name for the thing. "Christian Science," properly named, is simply _Un_-Christian _Non_-Science.

CHAPTER II.

THE ORIGIN OF THE NEW THOUGHT.[4]

"Christian Science," "Mental Healing," "Metaphysical Treatment of Disease,"--where did these things come from, and how did they get here?

The facts are peculiar; they are partly unpleasant; they are sometimes amusing; but they are not far to seek.

In 1836, Charles Poyan, a Frenchman, introduced into the United States the practise of Mesmerism. In 1840 it was taken up, with great earnestness, by a Maine Yankee, named Phineas Parkhurst Quimby. He was a watch and clock maker, an inventor, and a natural reformer. In making his mesmeric experiments, he soon found an extraordinary subject of them in the person of a young man, Lucius Burkmar, with whom he traveled several years, giving, it is said, some of the most astonishing exhibitions of mesmerism and clairvoyance that had ever been known. As the substance of mesmerism, though under the newer name of hypnotism, has now been fully substantiated by the French Academy of Medicine, the highest authority in the world on such subjects, there seems to be no longer any reasonable question of its general claims.

On taking up mesmerism in New England, Mr. Quimby had been very ill and given up by his physicians to die. By inquiring into his own condition through his clairvoyant subject, Lucius, and by the young man's laying-on of hands, Mr. Quimby, as he tells the story, recovered immediately from a long-standing and dangerous malady. Partly as a result of this cure, but much more because his whole life shows him to have been a natural exemplar of "the good physician," he took to "healing the sick." He held no diploma from any college of medicine; but his work and his thousands of patients inevitably conferred upon him the t.i.tle of "Doctor."

At first he merely co-operated with the regular medical faculty, who sometimes called upon him to have his subject, Lucius, examine their patients. Being put into the mesmeric state, young Burkmar would describe the disease, with the pains accompanying it, and would then go on and prescribe remedies, though he knew nothing about them.

As a partic.i.p.ant and student of this process, Dr. Quimby came, in a short time, to the conclusion that the diagnosis of the clairvoyant was not necessarily the true one, but was taken from the belief of the patient, or his physician, or some other person, and was, therefore, an impression of incidental mind, rather than a statement of fact. Such results would not do for a man like Quimby; so he dismissed mesmerism--such practise of it at least as depended on anybody but himself and those on whom he directly operated. Meanwhile, according to the best of testimony, there was developed in himself a faculty much more peculiar and effective than ordinary "mind-reading" and "second-sight." Gradually, too, he formed an entirely new and original theory of disease. In 1857, in a Maine paper, the _Bangor Jeffersonian_, his faculty and his theory were described thus:

"It is universally acknowledged that the mind is often the cause of disease, but it has never been supposed to have an equal power in overcoming it. Quimby's theory is that the mind gives immediate form to the animal spirit, and that the animal spirit gives form to the body....

Therefore, his first course in the treatment of a patient is to sit down beside him, and put himself _en rapport_ with him, which he does without producing the mesmeric sleep.... With the spirit form Dr. Quimby converses and endeavors to win it away from its grief; and, when he has succeeded in doing so, it disappears, and reunites with the body. Thus is commenced the first step towards recovery.... This union frequently lasts but a short time, when the spirit again appears, exhibiting some new phase of its troubles. With this he again contends until he overcomes it, when it disappears as before. Thus two shades of trouble have disappeared from the mind, and consequently from the animal spirit; and the body has already commenced its efforts to come into a state in accordance with them."

In an article written by Dr. Quimby himself (in 1861), he explained his procedure in this way:

"A patient comes to see Dr. Quimby. He renders himself absent to everything but the impression of the person's feelings. These are quickly daguerreotyped on him. They contain no intelligence, but shadow forth a reflection of themselves which he looks at. This contains the disease as it appears to the patient. Being confident that it is the shadow of a false idea, he (Dr. Quimby) is not afraid of it.... Then his feelings in regard to the disease, which are health and strength, are daguerreotyped on the receptive plate of the patient, which also throws forth a shadow.

The patient, seeing this shadow of the disease in a new light, gains confidence. This change of feeling is daguerreotyped on the doctor again.

This also throws forth a shadow, and he sees the change, and continues to treat it in the same way. So the patient's feelings sympathize with his, the shadow changes and grows dim, and finally disappears. The light takes its place, and there is nothing left of the disease."

Dr. Quimby was not an educated man in the technical meaning of the term; but, through his experiments in mesmerism and his personal experiences, he was led directly to what in the history of philosophy is called "absolute idealism." Until his own conclusions were fully reached, he knew nothing, from literature, even of Berkeley; but when Berkeley's writings were unfolded to him, he at once said, in his plain, straightforward way, that they were true, and that he "agreed" with them. To him, the universe was mind, and all things were "ideas." Disease was an "idea," though he sometimes called it "matter," as being _negative mind_, or that which "_could receive impressions_" and "be changed by them." Hence he said:

"The idea (disease) is matter; and it decomposes, and throws off an odor that contains all the ideas of the person affected. This is true of every idea or thought. Now my odor comes in contact with this odor, and I, being well, have found out by twenty years' experience that these odors affect me, and also that they contain the very ident.i.ty of the patient whom this odor surrounds. This called my attention to it; and I found that it was as easy to tell the feelings or thoughts of a sick person as to detect the odor of spirits from that of tobacco. I at first thought I inhaled it, but at last found that my senses could be affected by it when my body was at a distance of many miles from the patient. This led to a new discovery; and I found that my senses were not in my body, but that my body was in my senses. My knowledge located my senses just according to my wisdom. If a man's knowledge is in matter, all there is of him is contained in matter.

But, if his knowledge is in wisdom, then his senses and all there is of him are out of matter."

In 1860 Dr. Quimby used, in Portland and vicinity, a circular addressed "to the sick," some copies of which have been preserved, and from an original copy of which the following extracts are taken:

"Dr. P. P. Quimby would respectfully announce that he will attend to those wishing to consult him in regard to their health, and, as his practice is unlike all other medical practice, it is necessary to say that he gives no medicine _and makes no outward applications_, but simply sits down by the patients, tells them their feelings, &c., then his explanation is the cure; and, if he succeeds in correcting their error, he changes the fluids of the system and establishes the truth, or health. _The Truth is the Cure._ This mode of treatment applies to all cases. If no explanation is given, no charge is made, for no effect is produced.... If patients feel pain they know it, and, if he describes their pain, he feels it.... After this it becomes his duty to prove to them the cause of their trouble....

This has been his mode of practice for the last seventeen years. For the past eight years he has given no medicines, nor made any outward applications.... There are many who pretend to practice as he does; but when a person, while in a trance, claims any power from the spirits of the departed, and recommends any kind of medicine to be taken internally or applied externally, beware! Believe them not, 'for by their fruits ye shall know them.'"[5]

In 1887 a short account of Dr. Quimby and his work was published in a pamphlet ent.i.tled _The True History of Mental Science_, by Julius A.

Dresser. Mr. Dresser had been a patient and friend of Dr. Quimby, who had looked to him to cultivate and extend the Quimby system. But the immediate accomplishment of that purpose had been prevented.

In 1895 Mrs. Annetta Gertrude Dresser, the wife of Julius A. Dresser, and, like him, a patient and personal friend of Dr. Quimby, gave to the public a small but comprehensive volume, _The Philosophy of Dr. P. P. Quimby_.[6]

This excellent sketch of the man and his career contains part of an article upon him written by his son, Mr. George A. Quimby, for the _New England Magazine_ of March, 1888, the article being followed, in Mrs.

Dresser's book, by various newspaper notices and criticisms of Dr. Quimby, running from 1857 to 1863, then by reminiscences of him, an exposition of his theories, and by selections from his ma.n.u.scripts.

The newspaper articles were mostly prepared by grateful patients whom Dr.

Quimby had restored from sickness to health.[7] Among these patients were two daughters of Judge Ashur Ware[8] of Portland, Maine, one of whom, Mrs.

Sarah Ware Mackay, still lives to bless the good Doctor's memory. The Ware sisters became so deeply interested in Dr. Quimby's thoughts and cures that they persuaded him to write out his ideas and explain his practise.

As he was exceedingly busy, his articles were rewritten by the two young ladies or by Mr. George A. Quimby, and were then submitted to the Doctor for correction. His terminology was peculiar, and sometimes inadequate to his meaning; but due attention to his writings, with those of his friends, yields a clear conception of him.

One thing will never be questioned by any honest and sensible person acquainted with the facts: Dr. Quimby's biographers--his son and his trusted friends, the Dressers--have told the truth about him. The information they give fully sustains their general estimate. This estimate established, we know that Dr. Quimby himself was absolutely sincere, and could be fully trusted just so far as he understood his own nature and what he was doing. But this is not to say that he was always right. It is not even to say that he was without the strongest of prejudices, which may sometimes have misled him. He was too broad and high a soul to be _opinionated_ in any narrow, selfish sense; but he would stand for a conviction till "the crack of doom." "The old gentleman," says one who knew him familiarly for many years, "would _argue_ a sitting hen off her nest."