Article June 12, 1902 Issue

May 6, 1902

Being the Impressions of an Unbeliever at the Hon. William G. Ewing's Lecture on Christian Science.

with contributions from Martha Shepard Lippincott

The Onlooker

The date is graven on the tablets of my memory by reason of certain happenings, among others, of painless surgery under the superadded terrors of anaesthetics. It had reached me that Christian Scientists taught that pain was illusion, a thing that to the Believer was not. The notion at all times struck me as humorous. It occurred to me as I passed the Queen's Hall that at that hour Judge Ewing, the foremost exponent of that diverting creed, was about to deliver his lecture inviting the consideration of Unbelievers of the views he held. In my then mood the thought came to me with the saving grace of comic relief. I suffered myself to be swept away by the current that set towards the main doors. Those gifted beings who can read between the lines may be tempted to deduce that I joined the stream with intent to scoff. Frankly, I did.

A great meeting, undoubtedly, if only by sheer force of numbers. There was hardly a vacant seat on the floor of the vast hall. Its walls were outlined by a dim row of faces, tier behind tier, all turner towards the empty platform. Faces, faces, on every hand. It made you feel rather dazed, more especially if you were simultaneously enjoying the after-effects of an anaesthetic. A great meeting surely, yet not, on better acquaintance of the constituents, a meeting one has learnt to associate with a gathering of cranks and faddists. The glow of beauty, the glitter of wealth, the stir of youth, the energy of ripe manhood, the furrowed brow of old age and deep thought made up this vast assemblage. A critical and educated congregation if ever there was one, awaiting the wisdom of a great preacher. The air of intentness that reigned impressed me. There was none of that uneasiness, that air of unrest that usually betrays a great concourse. There was none of that ripple of hacking coughs and uneasy giggling that commonly stirs its restless surface, more especially when that for which it waits keeps it waiting. The hush, the expectancy, the stillness of that upturned sea of faces was impressive. It was as if the vast audience was held under the spell of a great peace.

Whether it was so or not, I do not know. I only aspire to hold the impression of the moment.

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May 6, 1902

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