Eddy. To a note
which I wrote her, begging the favor of an interview for press use, she
most kindly replied, naming an evening on which she would receive me. At
the hour named I rang the bell at a spacious house on Columbus Avenue, and
I was hardly more than seated before Mrs. Eddy entered the room. She
impressed me as singularly graceful and winning in bearing and manner, and
with great claim to personal beauty. Her figure was tall, slender, and as
flexible in movement as that of a Delsarte disciple; her face, framed in
dark hair and lighted by luminous blue eyes, had the transparency and
rose-flush of tint so often seen in New England, and she was magnetic,
earnest, impassioned. No photographs can do the least justice to Mrs. Eddy,
as her beautiful complexion and changeful expression cannot thus be
reproduced. At once one would perceive that she had the temperament to
dominate, to lead, to control, not by any crude self-assertion, but a
spiritual animus. Of course such a personality, with the wonderful tumult
in the air that her large and enthusiastic following excited, fascinated
the imagination. What had she originated? I mentally questioned this modern
St. Catherine, who was dominating her followers like any abbess of old. She
told me the story of her life, so far as outward events may translate those
inner experiences which alone are significant.
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