2. Her people built the Mother-Church edifice on it, at a cost of two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
3. Then they gave the whole property to her.
4. Then she gave it to the Board of Directors. She is the Board of
Directors. She took it out of one pocket and put it in the other.
5. Sec. 10 (of the deed). “Whenever said Directors shall determine
that it is inexpedient to maintain preaching, reading, or speaking in
said church in accordance with the terms of this deed, they are
authorized and required to reconvey forthwith said lot of land with the
building thereon to Mary Baker G. Eddy, her heirs and assigns forever,
by a proper deed of conveyance.”
She is never careless, never slipshod, about a matter of business.
Owning the property through her Board of Waxworks was safe enough, still
it was sound business to set another grip on it to cover accidents, and
she did it. Her barkers (what a curious name; I wonder if it is
copyrighted); her barkers persistently advertise to the public her
generosity in giving away a piece of land which cost her a trifle, and a
two–hundred–and–fifty–thousand–dollar church which cost her nothing;
and they can hardly speak of the unselfishness of it without breaking
down and crying; yet they know she gave nothing away, and never intended
to. However, such is the human race. Often it does seem such a pity
that Noah and his party did not miss the boat.
Some of the hostiles think that Mrs. Eddy’s idea in protecting this
property in the interest of her heirs, and in accumulating a great money
fortune, is, that she may leave her natural heirs well provided for when
she goes. I think it is a mistake. I think she is of late years giving
herself large concern about only one interest-her power and glory, and
the perpetuation and worship of her Name–with a capital N. Her Church
is her pet heir, and I think it will get her wealth. It is the torch
which is to light the world and the ages with her glory.
I think she once prized money for the ease and comfort it could bring,
the showy vanities it could furnish, and the social promotion it could
command; for we have seen that she was born into the world with little
ways and instincts and aspirations and affectations that are duplicates
of our own. I do not think her money-passion has ever diminished in
ferocity, I do not think that she has ever allowed a dollar that had no
friends to get by her alive, but I think her reason for wanting it has
changed. I think she wants it now to increase and establish and
perpetuate her power and glory with, not to add to her comforts and
luxuries, not to furnish paint and fuss and feathers for vain display. I
think her ambitions have soared away above the fuss-and-feather stage.
She still likes the little shows and vanities–a fact which she exposed
in a public utterance two or three days ago when she was not noticing–
but I think she does not place a large value upon them now. She could
build a mighty and far-shining brass-mounted palace if she wanted to, but
she does not do it. She would have had that kind of an ambition in the
early scrabbling times. She could go to England to-day and be worshiped
by earls, and get a comet’s attention from the million, if she cared for
such things. She would have gone in the early scrabbling days for much
less than an earl, and been vain of it, and glad to show off before the
remains of the Scotch kin. But those things are very small to her now–
next to invisible, observed through the cloud-rack from the dizzy summit
where she perches in these great days. She does not want that church
property for herself. It is worth but a quarter of a million–a sum she
could call in from her far-spread flocks to-morrow with a lift of her
hand. Not a squeeze of it, just a lift. It would come without a murmur;