XIVANOTHER COMMOTION—RELIGIOUS-CURATIVE
“Will that you won’t be sick, and you won’t be,” quoth a volunteer adviser.“It’s my will itself that is sick,” replied a real sufferer.
I’M sure I should.”
Mrs. Cultus turned quickly, to find the speaker, a placid-looking person, sitting near, presumably a lady, yet who had evidently been eavesdropping. A person of matronly aspect, whose voice and expression suggested a desire to tell others something that might be of benefit to them. Not at all one whose appearance suggested mysticism in any degree; on the contrary rather ingenuous, consequently a surprise to all present when she launched at them the following dogmatic statements:
“The practice of healing, of course I mean metaphysical healing, is based upon certain ethical and religious principles, because we know that mind holds utter control over matter.”
Mrs. Cultus, at first taken aback, then much amused, replied promptly: “Mind over matter! well, I should hope so. But it strikes me mind often controls matter better than it controls itself—h’m!” and Mrs. Cultus gave a little cough, as if the very idea had produced “something-the-matter” in her own anatomy.
Miss Winchester whispered to Adele: “My dear, we have found another—metaphysical specimen this time. The ship is full of them.”
“No more cures for me,” retorted Adele. “That magnesium powder is not out of my head yet—I mean my hair.”
“Never mind that, dear. Your head will save your hair; beg pardon, I mean your heels.”
“Well,” thought Adele, laughing, “even if this individual is another new-science-expert, she can’t possibly be of the loud, vociferous variety.” Adele judged by the placid manner and quiet voice, insinuating even when making such positive and surprising assertions. She had yet to learn how extremes sometimes meet in the same personality. The Doctor could have told her that the woman’s hands showed a most ardent temperament, and that in some types suppressed zeal could assume the appearance of placidity personified.
Mrs. Thorn regarded the matronly lady with especial interest, because new mental impressions of any kind, from any source, might at any time be of use to her. Her smile was bland, mild, courtesy itself, with just a humorous tinge for business with it, as she leaned forward to catch every word. Some new point in the game might be played at any moment. This when the placid matron remarked: “No medicines are now needed, no such disturbances as we have had on board. The true method by which mind may overcome all disease in suffering humanity we have now learned.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Mrs. Cultus. “No medicines? What a blessing! But what takes their place, massage, or change of climate? We’re trying the latter.”
The placid lady, as she soon informed them, was Mrs. Geyser, of Wyoming, claiming to be an expert in the modern field ofpopularmetaphysics. Miss Winchester, who knew what popularity implied, interrupted, “Oh, tell us, Mrs. Geyser, Wyoming is noted, is it not, as a locality where the natural ebullitions produced by physical forces are very remarkable?”
“Assuredly; in the volcanic region of our Park we have many instances of nature’s activity, in the boiling springs and water volcanoes, mud——”
“Baths and smothered combustion?” interrupted FrankWinchester. Mrs. Geyser paid no attention, except to intensify her previous statement.
“I’m quite accustomed to such sights. Nature often looks so quiet and harmless, yet the ebullitions you speak of take effect when not expected.”
“Anybody scalded?” asked Miss Winchester. Mrs. Geyser began to suspect that she was being chaffed.
“Gushers by nature, don’t you think so, Mrs. Geyser?”
Mrs. Geyser could not question this undoubted fact. How could she? Her own ebullitions of thought were already seething. She couldn’t get a word in edgewise without interruptions. How could any one preach practical metaphysics, metaphysics with interruptions? The conditions were most unfavorable. She determined, however, not to be balked in a good cause. No! not by a flippant damsel, anyhow, with her unseemly intrusions. So she fired off one of her big statements to back up what she considered to be practical metaphysics.
“You know, I presume, that we preach the gospel or good news according to doctrine found in the Bible and stated in the tenets of religious Science.”
Mrs. Cultus remarked that she hoped her knowledge of the Bible was sufficient, but, really, she knew little about the tenets. “What are tenets, anyhow?”
“One of our tenets reads this way,” and Mrs. Geyser assumed a tone of voice most serious, as if she were uttering a revelation of mystery never before vouchsafed to ordinary mortals. “We acknowledge the way of salvation to be the power of truth over all error, sin, sickness and death, and the resurrection of human faith and understanding to seize the great possibilities, yes, possibilities, and living energies of divine life.”
Mrs. Cultus drew a long breath. “Oh, dear, tenets are awful things; so complicated! May I ask what becomes of the simplicity of the gospel?”
Adele became very attentive while Mrs. Geyser was speaking. There was something in it which appealed to her as very true, yet that word “possibilities,” it was so easy to stretch it into the impossible and unreasonable.
“Please give us a simple tenet,” asked Mrs. Cultus, now the placid speaker.
“There is nothing easier, it’s as easy as reading a book. We have keys of our own—you must use our keys—our own book to both science and health.”
Frank Winchester gave a start, as if struck by an idea. “Keys! those everlasting keys! There must be two sets!”
“Three, my dear, three! I remember them well,” said Mrs. Cultus, her memory also startled into activity. “I knew St. Peter by reputation only, but Louis also had keys. I remember Louis XVI of France very well, when I was at school. He was a locksmith also, and made Bourbon keys for the government. Poor man! he lost both his keys and his head. Why, Mrs. Geyser, I’m astonished! Don’t you know the religious-government-locksmith-business is entirely obsolete?”
“In both science and religion,” mused Adele, while her mother still kept the floor.
“Why, St. Peter himself said his keys were worn out. He told the whole world he couldn’t lock the door on those Philippine friars, when they had been caught interfering with the Government.”
“Don’t mix politics and religion with metaphysics!” exclaimed Adele, greatly amused, but beginning to feel interested in the serio-comic discussion. “Please don’t—it’s bad form.”
“I won’t, daughter. I was only thinking, thinking how astute St. Peter was to find it out before The Hague conference told him so. I rather liked that in Peter, because Paul generally showed more intellect in the long run. Peter probably was the better manager, but I suspect Paul had more—more—Oh, what shall I call it?”
“Metaphysics?” suggested Frank Winchester, struggling to conceal intense amusement.
Mrs. Geyser, in the meantime, was not the sort of person to remain “sat upon,” as she thought, “in this outrageous manner.” Her own mental ebullitions began to demand utterance, but she managed to suppress external evidence. Nevertheless the cause she represented must be defended. Yes; in spite of Paul, Apollos, Cephas, Mrs. Cephas and Miss Cephas, the truth must prevail. She must witness to show how it could and would. She must tell how the greatest thing on earth should be applied as medicine. Sincerity called for strenuosity, the fundamental element in “our religion” must be made known, preached, and she did so, thusly:
“The maintenance of health and cure of disease occupy a large space in the religious faith of our society. Love is the greatest thing on earth, the fundamental thing with us. Love conquers all things, headache and neuralgia, backache and lumbago, all included, annual and perennial, the whole list, non-chronic and chronic. To apply religion scientifically we first fix truth and love steadfastly in the patient’s thoughts and explain what religious science is, but not too soon, not until the patient is prepared for it;” and then Mrs. Geyser continued to elucidate her method, incidentally remarking that medicine was never needed, not even for babies, not even in the mild form of a preparatory mixture. Frank Winchester recalled to memory the recent preparatory mental dose given by the Doctor to Mr. Onset, but said nothing. Adele, recently graduated, could not avoid asking the question:
“Have you a diploma?”
A very dignified attitude struck Mrs. Geyser in the small of her back when Adele innocently propounded this touchy question. She straightened up to reply. “Our diplomas are attested by the supernatural powers we exert. I deny that natural causes can account for our proceedings, I mean our results.”
“It looks just that way,” remarked Mrs. Cultus, while Mrs. Geyser continued:
“But to comply with the laws of the land and render unto Cæsar the things that are his I did take a course at our Metaphysical College—twelve half-days’ instruction at three hundred dollars for the course. Ample, I assure you, to satisfy any materialistic law-maker, and quite as expensive as many other colleges.” After this incidental announcement Mrs. Geyser seemed ready to resume the practice of her profession as teacher, but Adele, by this time, did not seem inclined to let it be done so easily. Evidently a climax was approaching in Adele’s own mind as to the duty of graduates.
“I notice, Mrs. Geyser, that you lay great stress upon cures.”
“Yes, they bear witness to the truth in our religious-science.”
“Do you keep any account of failures?”
“None whatever.”
“Then you notice what suits you and ignore the rest. Is that truth in science?”
“Failures do not depend upon phenomena or cases.”
“Then upon what?” inquired Adele, intensely interested.
“Failures depend upon the Divine Word.”
A pause—Adele as one astounded at what she considered the fearful abuse of both thoughts and words in Mrs. Geyser’s statements.
No doubt Mrs. G.imagined she was protecting her faith and religion by this placing of blame for failure upon the Spirit of Truth in the Divine Word, as if Truth itself could ever be a delusion, a fallacy, a failure; but, unfortunately, or fortunately perhaps, Adele Cultus grasped the fuller import of such assertions—so abusive of facts in nature scientific and philosophical, so diametrically in opposition, or else ignoring Christ’s especial teaching by word and work. Such was Adele’s point of view.
To Adele this was utterly illogical, antagonistic to truth asshe saw it. Such an atrocious conception from one who had just been talking about love, the greatest thing on earth, struck through Adele like an electric shock, and, as usual with her, the spiritual dominant. She was also outwardly calm, but mentally that violent tension which comes with strenuous effort to find the truest utterance. The horrible words again sounded in her ears: “Failures—depend—upon——”
“Mrs. Geyser, to the Divine Word let us appeal. The record states that our Saviour did depend upon the phenomena to sustain his claims, ‘Believe me for the very works’ sake,’ and He never failed. When science, some day, progresses to the standpoint of our Saviour’s knowledge and practice we too may understand the application of natural laws as He did. What is the so-called supernatural? Merely that which science has not yet explained: miracles to-day are not miracles to-morrow.”
All attention was now focused upon Adele, her eyes flashing as they often had done when tackling a difficult problem at college. Her mentality was concentrated. Mrs. Cultus thought she “looked like Portia” when she continued:
“Our Heavenly Father wrote the Divine Word in all things. Science and religion must agree. They have the same Author.”
Now if Adele had only stopped at this point and by silence let the truth further speak for itself in the heart, much of what followed would have been avoided. But youth is impulsive in method and often abuses strenuosity by becoming indiscreet. Her youth led her to jump at a conclusion embodying personal reference, which of course broke away from the direct route to assurance of faith by spiritual discernment of actual facts. The bane of both science and religion came nearer wrecking the truthful impression already germinated in Mrs. Geyser’s consciousness.
“You are a religious thaumaturgist, Mrs. Geyser—a dealer in wonder-work. Your results are not real miracles, because you have failures and abuse truthful words. Having failureswhen you attempt to heal, you can’t possibly be apostles of the truly ordained religious and scientific type.”
Quick as a flash, Mrs. Geyser spoke the historic truth:
“Christ’s Apostles did have failures. Your remarks have no force.”
Adele also quick as a flash:
“Precisely so! which shows the real difference between them and Him. In every instance when they did fail He called them a faithless and perverse generation. Do you know why, Mrs. Geyser?”
Mrs. Geyser refused to reply.
“Because they neglected well known means, considered scientific in those days, and so recognized yet by reasonable people. The Apostles neglected to employ prayer and fasting, that is to say, proper mental and physical treatment. They had not adequately examined the case themselves, conscientiously nor in a prayerful spirit, nor given the proper medicine already known to be useful in such cases. Our Saviour always applied common sense to his physical and spiritual healing and had no failures.” Then she added mentally, “He does it yet.”
Mrs. Geyser had never before heard the historic Christ spoken of as a physician of the regular school, which eventually resulted in modern practice. She had always thought of Him as an Oriental Healer with no pretence to manifesting cures by reasonable specific methods, such as have since been learned by the Holy Spirit of Truth in medicine, psychology, and the science of religion; by the Spirit which is Holy, which Christ promised He would send. She had often said that the Scriptures gave no direct interpretation of the scientific basis for demonstrating until the new key was discovered. In fact, Mrs. Geyser was herself very mediæval in her notions of what Christ’s personality stands for as enlightenment, the Holy Spirit of Truth in all things, the Light of the World.
Therefore what Adele asserted made little real impressionother than antagonism, not as yet, not until Adele, more roused than ever, continued:
“No record of failures is shirking responsibility, and personal responsibility is one of the truest things in any religion worthy of the name. Denial of dependence upon phenomena is a false position, totally unlike our Saviour. It is a pseudo-Christianity, and it is rank pseudo-science to quote in the same breath only those phenomena which you think will suit your purpose.” She was going on to add “preposterous abuse of the Divine Word,” when her mother beckoned her to be less extreme and impulsive. Her youth therefore satisfied itself by turning the personal allusions half-way round towards herself: “I think your position is preposterous, Mrs. Geyser, and your science an imposition upon the public.”
Adele regretted her words almost as soon as uttered, but too late; an eruption imminent, it must come.
Mrs. Geyser, the mystic, had been in a suppressed condition, but the mental-effervescence was approaching nearer and nearer to the surface. Personalities which she often applied to others she could not stand when turned towards herself—they acted still more potently; in effect not unlike that of soap-suds upon the water volcanoes of her native region, temporary suppression followed by ebullitions worse than usual. She could no longer sit still, so she rose to her feet, without fear but with much trembling, and gave vent to a torrent of expostulations, hurling her words at Adele as if to deluge her with facts.
“You don’t pretend to say there have been no cures by faith?”
“I do not,” said Adele firmly, “but——”
“But what, young miss? Can you deny facts in life? Facts! facts as well authenticated as the New Testament itself!”
“I neither deny facts in nature nor the testimony of honest witnesses, but——”
“Cures which the Founder of Christianity promised His followers they should perform!” cried the Geyser, still more excited.
Adele’s indignation at this became irresistible, neither could she stand it; and the result?
A remarkable thing yet perfectly natural, phenomenon well known to both religion and science, a sudden intense appreciation that “the letter killeth but the Spirit giveth life,” affecting her whole personality, physical, mental, spiritual.
Adele’s ideal became realized in her own person.
The psychological influence of that which is Holy became manifest.
She became, as it were, the personification of that which she believed to be true. Sober enthusiasm and convictions, both scientific and religious, came to her rescue.
She spoke, but with a revulsion in manner, quietly, slowly, each sentence distinct, and her words were the truth in soberness, moral courage and reason at its best, the Holy Spirit over all:
“Pardon me, Mrs. Geyser. I am really very sorry I offended you.” Then, after a little pause, “I can’t express all that I feel and would like to say; but it seems to me our Saviour was always reasonable. He never did imply what is unreasonable, no matter what marvels and mysteries He may have revealed to enlighten further. It seems to me nature has ever since witnessed to His wonderful obedience to her laws and His profound knowledge of the Divine Word wherever written in nature, physical or spiritual. He came not to destroy but to fulfil laws in nature, and this in spite of all that has ever been said of Him to the contrary.”
All were now absorbed, blending their own spiritual experience with hers as Adele continued:
“Now in religion the claims you make demand a marvellous thing in nature, a marvel indeed, quite unreasonable to expect in the brighter light of known truths,” and she restedher eyes calmly on Mrs. Geyser, she too having become quieter under the better influences at work.
“A marvel, indeed, Mrs. Geyser, no less than the actual presence of a perfect human being.”
Mrs. Geyser repeated the words, musing self-consciously, “A perfect human being!”
“Yes, indeed,” continued Adele. “Taking things as they are, as the truth in science has already taught us, the performance of cures by the means you attempt would demand perfection in both knowledge and technic—one who knows and one who does to perfection—a perfect man. Of course I must mean perfect in reason, reasonably perfect as nature manifests truth, at the period when the man lives.”
“What do you mean by perfection?” asked Mrs. Geyser, evidently sincere. “I don’t quite understand what you mean by that sort of high-flown talk.” This was only too true, for Mrs. Geyser, with all her pretence to metaphysics, had never formulated a definition of that word “perfection;” she knew little and perceived less in that very mode of thought to which she made claim as an expert.
Adele’s youthful eyes certainly did show a human-nature-twinkle when thus called upon to define what should have been elementary to Mrs. Geyser if an expert; and so very important to remember when “perfect cures” were claimed in spite of the known imperfections of all other systems of treatment. Adele never appreciated her college training more than when she found that she could use the knowledge thus obtained in reasoning with Mrs. Geyser.
“Well, in metaphysics as well as other studies, perfection is something like this: it is not only ‘finished in every part, completed,’ but much more, it is ‘whole, entire, existing in the widest extent, and in the highest degree—in spiritual relationsdivinein character and quality.’ You surely believe this, Mrs. Geyser!”
Mrs. Geyser made a heroic mental effort to grasp this statementand answer the question; Adele tried to help her, anxious to share the very best of her own mental conclusions, her own spirit dominated by the Spirit that is Holy, to help others and not antagonize.
“Now to me the two words, perfection and divinity, are precisely the same in significance in relation to our present discussion, and they both touch the very highest point in reason, the acme of reason. We cannot go higher than that, can we, Mrs. Geyser?”
Mrs. Geyser acknowledged it was “pretty well up.”
Adele, properly gauging the calibre of her patient by this remark, repeated the idea:
“No, I can think of nothing higher than perfection and what it implies. No, not in physics, metaphysics, nor religion. Can you, Mrs. Geyser?”
The listener seemed somewhat confused, but sincerely anxious to learn. Adele continued:
“Religion and Philosophy both teach me that Divinity alone manifests Perfection to the extent your claims call for. No doubt you have examined into the matter thoroughly, Mrs. Geyser. May I ask what your key says on the subject?”
The matronly Mrs. Geyser, ever self-conscious, yet trying to be sincere, immediately directed her thoughts inwardly, to a sort of self-examination which her system was apt to call for in such cases; a system of self-examination very peculiar in its operation, as if trying to detect how-much-of-perfection she had within herself to be depended upon to influence or exert the Supreme Power to perfect cures. If anybody ever did try to work out her own salvation (cure herself) by means of complicated theories distorting good intentions, it was this earnest woman, misguided by a mist of words applied to the veritable mysteries in nature, a mystical abuse of the unseen truths so well recognized by all truth-seekers as mysterious. Thou canst not tell whence it cometh nor whither it goeth. Mrs. Geyser seemed worried, but in no way daunted; rathertroubled because she could not state her own case as she thought it should be stated. Very like a matron indeed, with an enormous bunch of keys at her side, not one of which would fit.
Adele, also uneasy lest she had not shown that kindness and consideration in manner and tone for one older than herself, which the case called for—a case in which the Perfect Spirit alone, the Holy Spirit of Truth in Love, can do the “perfect work.”
Adele felt this deeply. “What shall I do now? Talk on? No; no more talk. I hate this rumpus, hate it! but must do something. Never again will I be caught in such a discussion and controversy. Never! but I must do something. Poor soul, she can’t even see what she can see. I wish I could see for her,” and Adele cast her eyes about, as if looking for inspiration in the surrounding objects.
A book lay upon Miss Winchester’s lap. She had been using it at the piano in the salon. The title caught Adele’s eye. “Songs Without Words,” the musical association with the title she well knew, but now, what?
Her active mind, trained to work by association of ideas, and her spiritual faculties longing to determine what to do then and there, the two worked together. If the beautiful art of music she loved so well could speak without words through the ear, why, surely there must be a way to speak by—by——
She left her chair, crossed over to where Mrs. Geyser sat, and held out a friendly hand, her attitude the reverse of antagonistic, her eyes speaking the meekness which is always followed by the promised reward. There was no mistake as to the words uttered by those lovely eyes, they asked first for peace, peace first, then hope, then charity, showing that meekness which inherits the earth. Herself illumined by that wonderful light that never was by sea or land, but sometimes is reflected on the human face.