Mrs. Eddy Interviewed

A Reporter for the Boston Journal gives an Account of his Visit to Pleasant View.

The Chicago Inter Ocean on Sunday, June 18, published a sensational article to the effect that Christian Scientists of Chicago are seriously in doubt as to whether Mary Baker G. Eddy, the Discoverer and Founder of Christian Science, is really alive and on earth.

The article is based on what purports to be an interview with an unnamed “member of the South Side Society.” This mythical person is made to declare that Mrs. Eddy did not appear in person at any of the recent meetings in Boston, during Communion week, and that the address at the Annual Meeting was read by another person and handed out to the reporters under the false pretense that it was delivered by Mrs. Eddy herself.

The Boston Journal upon receiving the Chicago paper instituted an investigation of the matter, with the result that a reporter personally interviewed Mrs. Eddy at her home in the city of Concord, N. H., Tuesday evening, June 20, and the interview was published in the Boston Journal of June 21. The following is an abstract of the interview.

Concord Depot, N. H., June 20.— “Am I alive? Why I haven’t felt more sound for forty years.”

These are words which will set at rest once and for all the reports which come out of the West with resistless regularity that Mrs. Mary Baker Eddy, the Mother of the Christian Science faith and the counsellor of its interests the world over, is dead and has been in the grave for several years. It was the forcible and picturesque response to the question of a Boston Journal man as Mrs. Eddy tripped lightly into the parlor of her beautiful home in this city last night at an hour when many younger persons are in bed. The Journal man had come from Boston to deny or affirm the reports of her death, with particular reference to a purported interview in a Chicago paper with a prominent Christian Science worker there, who says emphatically that all evidence bears out the conclusion that Mrs. Eddy is dead, and that her death is being kept a secret by interested people who fear that knowledge of such a fate would be disastrous to the cause. This same gentleman is alleged to have made a statement that Mrs. Eddy did not deliver an address at the recent National Convention of Christian Scientists held in Tremont Temple, Boston, but that a woman who was made to pass as Mrs. Eddy spoke that day.

To a Journal man to-night Mrs. Eddy took notice of these declarations. It was the real Mrs. Eddy and nobody else, with whom the Journal man talked for half an hour; the same Mrs. Eddy whom the reporter saw alight from her carriage in front of Tremont Temple two weeks ago when she entered the building on a Tuesday afternoon to deliver her address to two thousand and more persons assembled. As Mrs. Eddy came down the front stairs with the agility of a maiden and tripped lightly across the parlor floor the reporter’s eyes bulged as he thought of a woman of eighty who has worked hard and thought deeply all her life.

She was charmingly dressed in black satin, black waist with purple front; her snow-white hair combed gracefully from the middle of her head was held by side combs studded with brilliants; her complexion like pink satin, clear and unflecked by furrow or wrinkle, and her eyes bright and glistening, were no uncertain evidences of health and contentment.

“It is only an impulse that I talk with you to-night,” she said. “I see no reporters, and, as my time is so thoroughly taken up by my work, it is not possible for me to entertain callers. I came to Concord for seclusion. Yes, it was way back in the seventies that the reports were first given out that I was dead, but here I am, and in good health. During the ten years that I have been here I think I have missed but three days for my daily drives. I go out summer and winter, rain or shine. There were two days last winter when the streets were almost impassable during that most severe cold weather that I did not go out driving, and one other time in years past that I could not go out, but for ten years I have missed but three days. One day last winter, when the wind blew frightfully, I drove about the city; coming home it seemed as if the carriage would be blown away from the street, and the driver expected it, but we arrived home safely, and I felt no bad effects from the experience.”

“What are your working hours?”

“I arise at six o’clock in the morning,” replied Mrs. Eddy, “and work all day. I retire to my room at nine o’clock. but not always to sleep. To-day, I have answered about twenty letters. I take ten minutes for every letter of four pages, read it thoroughly, consider it, and then write or dictate the answers to my private secretary. Of course, there are hundreds of letters that I never answer at all; to-day I have entertained letters from Congo Free State, from several European countries, and answered a letter from the wife of our minister to China.”

“Your time is occupied in other ways?”

“Yes, from all over the country I am besieged with requests for messages and counsel. Whenever a new church is opened the people think I ought to mail them some words of cheer and comfort if I cannot attend. So all these things take my time. I cannot go to Boston. I have not the time, for there is so much that requires my attention here every hour of the day.

“During the recent convention I felt that it was a call from God to speak to our dear people. I was there all day, and after running up and down stairs, holding receptions, and speaking words of cheer here and there, I rode back at night. There was a couch in my car, but I did not lie down. I did not feel tired, although it was a pretty good day’s work.”

“I suppose the fact that you are to a great extent inaccessible to those who wish to call on you gives rise to many of these rumors of your death.”

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Eddy. “I reluctantly turn away many more from my door than I see. It is impossible for me to entertain the hosts who wish to see me. For years I have been trying to discourage hero-worship. Here is an incident. It was the first time that I ever uttered a reproof to anybody on such an occasion. Many people were tarrying at my gate when I got ready to take a drive one day after the recent convention; they had come from all parts of the country. I stopped my carriage at the gate and spoke to these people, then I drove away. But when I came back one woman had remained there two hours, waiting for me to return. I stopped and said, ‘What are you here for?’ ‘For spiritual help,’ she replied. ‘Have you no God?’ ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Then never come here again to see me. Depend on yourself—go into your “closet” and pray that He may guide and counsel you.’ “

“You leave home but rarely now, do you not?”

“Yes; I am trying to extend this idea of God-help instead of my help on all my people. My heart is with them all, but they cannot expect that I can leave my work that is somewhat apart from theirs.”

“Age has descended lightly on you, despite your years of thought and toil,” remarked the Journal man.

“I never boast of my health, or speak of the to-morrow, but when I was driving recently, I was stopped by one who, after inquiring about my health, remarked, ‘Mrs. Eddy, you look to be about forty years old.’ Farther than this, I do not know what people think, but I really do not feel older than forty years.

“As I toil on I am comforted by the Scripture: ‘Ye shall run and not weary, walk and not faint.'”

“Do you find that your faith is flourishing?”

“Oh, very much so. In England there has been a great advance within the last four years; and in Germany, France and other parts of Europe, the work is in a very flourishing condition.”