THE ORIGIN OF THE NEW THOUGHT.[4]

"Christian Science," "Mental Healing," "Metaphysical Treatment of Disease,"—where did these things come from, and how did they get here? The facts are peculiar; they are partly unpleasant; they are sometimes amusing; but they are not far to seek.

In 1836, Charles Poyan, a Frenchman, introduced into the United States the practise of Mesmerism. In 1840 it was taken up, with great earnestness, by a Maine Yankee, named Phineas Parkhurst Quimby. He was a watch and clock maker, an inventor, and a natural reformer. In making his mesmeric experiments, he soon found an extraordinary subject of them in the person of a young man, Lucius Burkmar, with whom he traveled several years, giving, it is said, some of the most astonishing exhibitions of mesmerism and clairvoyance that had ever been known. As the substance of mesmerism, though under the newer name of hypnotism, has now been fully substantiated by the French Academy of Medicine, the highest authority in the world on such subjects, there seems to be no longer any reasonable question of its general claims.

On taking up mesmerism in New England, Mr. Quimby had been very ill and given up by his physicians to die. By inquiring into his own condition through his clairvoyant subject, Lucius, and by the young man's laying-on of hands, Mr. Quimby, as he tells the story, recovered immediately from a long-standing and dangerous malady. Partly as a result of this cure, but much more because his whole life shows him to have been a natural exemplar of "the good physician," he took to "healing the sick." He held no diploma from any college of medicine; but his work and his thousands of patients inevitably conferred upon him the title of "Doctor."

At first he merely co-operated with the regular medical faculty, who sometimes called upon him to have his subject, Lucius, examine their patients. Being put into the mesmeric state, young Burkmar would describe the disease, with the pains accompanying it, and would then go on and prescribe remedies, though he knew nothing about them.

As a participant and student of this process, Dr. Quimby came, in a short time, to the conclusion that the diagnosis of the clairvoyant was not necessarily the true one, but was taken from the belief of the patient, or his physician, or some other person, and was, therefore, an impression of incidental mind, rather than a statement of fact. Such results would not do for a man like Quimby; so he dismissed mesmerism—such practise of it at least as depended on anybody but himself and those on whom he directly operated. Meanwhile, according to the best of testimony, there was developed in himself a faculty much more peculiar and effective than ordinary "mind-reading" and "second-sight." Gradually, too, he formed an entirely new and original theory of disease. In 1857, in a Maine paper, the Bangor Jeffersonian, his faculty and his theory were described thus:

"It is universally acknowledged that the mind is often the cause of disease, but it has never been supposed to have an equal power in overcoming it. Quimby's theory is that the mind gives immediate form to the animal spirit, and that the animal spirit gives form to the body.... Therefore, his first course in the treatment of a patient is to sit down beside him, and put himself en rapport with him, which he does without producing the mesmeric sleep.... With the spirit form Dr. Quimby converses and endeavors to win it away from its grief; and, when he has succeeded in doing so, it disappears, and reunites with the body. Thus is commenced the first step towards recovery.... This union frequently lasts but a short time, when the spirit again appears, exhibiting some new phase of its troubles. With this he again contends until he overcomes it, when it disappears as before. Thus two shades of trouble have disappeared from the mind, and consequently from the animal spirit; and the body has already commenced its efforts to come into a state in accordance with them."

In an article written by Dr. Quimby himself (in 1861), he explained his procedure in this way:

"A patient comes to see Dr. Quimby. He renders himself absent to everything but the impression of the person's feelings. These are quickly daguerreotyped on him. They contain no intelligence, but shadow forth a reflection of themselves which he looks at. This contains the disease as it appears to the patient. Being confident that it is the shadow of a false idea, he (Dr. Quimby) is not afraid of it.... Then his feelings in regard to the disease, which are health and strength, are daguerreotyped on the receptive plate of the patient, which also throws forth a shadow. The patient, seeing this shadow of the disease in a new light, gains confidence. This change of feeling is daguerreotyped on the doctor again. This also throws forth a shadow, and he sees the change, and continues to treat it in the same way. So the patient's feelings sympathize with his, the shadow changes and grows dim, and finally disappears. The light takes its place, and there is nothing left of the disease."

Dr. Quimby was not an educated man in the technical meaning of the term; but, through his experiments in mesmerism and his personal experiences, he was led directly to what in the history of philosophy is called "absolute idealism." Until his own conclusions were fully reached, he knew nothing, from literature, even of Berkeley; but when Berkeley's writings were unfolded to him, he at once said, in his plain, straightforward way, that they were true, and that he "agreed" with them. To him, the universe was mind, and all things were "ideas." Disease was an "idea," though he sometimes called it "matter," as being negative mind, or that which "could receive impressions" and "be changed by them." Hence he said:

"The idea (disease) is matter; and it decomposes, and throws off an odor that contains all the ideas of the person affected. This is true of every idea or thought. Now my odor comes in contact with this odor, and I, being well, have found out by twenty years' experience that these odors affect me, and also that they contain the very identity of the patient whom this odor surrounds. This called my attention to it; and I found that it was as easy to tell the feelings or thoughts of a sick person as to detect the odor of spirits from that of tobacco. I at first thought I inhaled it, but at last found that my senses could be affected by it when my body was at a distance of many miles from the patient. This led to a new discovery; and I found that my senses were not in my body, but that my body was in my senses. My knowledge located my senses just according to my wisdom. If a man's knowledge is in matter, all there is of him is contained in matter. But, if his knowledge is in wisdom, then his senses and all there is of him are out of matter."

In 1860 Dr. Quimby used, in Portland and vicinity, a circular addressed "to the sick," some copies of which have been preserved, and from an original copy of which the following extracts are taken:

"Dr. P. P. Quimby would respectfully announce that he will attend to those wishing to consult him in regard to their health, and, as his practice is unlike all other medical practice, it is necessary to say that he gives no medicine and makes no outward applications, but simply sits down by the patients, tells them their feelings, &c., then his explanation is the cure; and, if he succeeds in correcting their error, he changes the fluids of the system and establishes the truth, or health. The Truth is the Cure. This mode of treatment applies to all cases. If no explanation is given, no charge is made, for no effect is produced.... If patients feel pain they know it, and, if he describes their pain, he feels it.... After this it becomes his duty to prove to them the cause of their trouble.... This has been his mode of practice for the last seventeen years. For the past eight years he has given no medicines, nor made any outward applications.... There are many who pretend to practice as he does; but when a person, while in a trance, claims any power from the spirits of the departed, and recommends any kind of medicine to be taken internally or applied externally, beware! Believe them not, 'for by their fruits ye shall know them.'"[5]In 1887 a short account of Dr. Quimby and his work was published in a pamphlet entitled The True History of Mental Science, by Julius A. Dresser. Mr. Dresser had been a patient and friend of Dr. Quimby, who had looked to him to cultivate and extend the Quimby system. But the immediate accomplishment of that purpose had been prevented.

In 1895 Mrs. Annetta Gertrude Dresser, the wife of Julius A. Dresser, and, like him, a patient and personal friend of Dr. Quimby, gave to the public a small but comprehensive volume, The Philosophy of Dr. P. P. Quimby.[6] This excellent sketch of the man and his career contains part of an article upon him written by his son, Mr. George A. Quimby, for the New England Magazine of March, 1888, the article being followed, in Mrs. Dresser's book, by various newspaper notices and criticisms of Dr. Quimby, running from 1857 to 1863, then by reminiscences of him, an exposition of his theories, and by selections from his manuscripts.The newspaper articles were mostly prepared by grateful patients whom Dr. Quimby had restored from sickness to health.[7] Among these patients were two daughters of Judge Ashur Ware[8] of Portland, Maine, one of whom, Mrs. Sarah Ware Mackay, still lives to bless the good Doctor's memory. The Ware sisters became so deeply interested in Dr. Quimby's thoughts and cures that they persuaded him to write out his ideas and explain his practise. As he was exceedingly busy, his articles were rewritten by the two young ladies or by Mr. George A. Quimby, and were then submitted to the Doctor for correction. His terminology was peculiar, and sometimes inadequate to his meaning; but due attention to his writings, with those of his friends, yields a clear conception of him.

One thing will never be questioned by any honest and sensible person acquainted with the facts: Dr. Quimby's biographers—his son and his trusted friends, the Dressers—have told the truth about him. The information they give fully sustains their general estimate. This estimate established, we know that Dr. Quimby himself was absolutely sincere, and could be fully trusted just so far as he understood his own nature and what he was doing. But this is not to say that he was always right. It is not even to say that he was without the strongest of prejudices, which may sometimes have misled him. He was too broad and high a soul to be opinionated in any narrow, selfish sense; but he would stand for a conviction till "the crack of doom." "The old gentleman," says one who knew him familiarly for many years, "would argue a sitting hen off her nest."

Reference has been made to his ill-health when he began to study mesmerism. Physicians had told him that his "kidneys were partially consumed," and that he had "ulcers on his lungs."

"On one occasion [he says], when I had my subject asleep, he told me that one [of my kidneys] was half consumed, and a piece three inches long had separated from it, and was only connected by a slender thread. This was what I believed to be true; for it agreed with what the doctors told me, and with what I had suffered—for I had not been free from pain for years. My common sense told me that no medicine would ever cure the trouble, and therefore I must suffer till death relieved me. But I asked [my subject] if there was no remedy. He replied, 'Yes—I can put the piece on so it will grow, and you will get well.'... He placed his hands upon me, and said he united the pieces so they would grow. The next day he said they had grown together; and from that day I never experienced the least pain from them."[9]

Dr. Quimby's personal veracity being accepted by the present writer as unimpeachable, his word must be taken as perfectly good for this remarkable story, as he understood the matter. But the various inferences he drew from his case may be questioned, with no disadvantage to his character.

"I concluded" [said he], "that [the subject] read my mind; and his ideas were so absurd that the disease vanished by the absurdity of the cure."It appears that this mesmeric subject, though he could be forced, under control, to prescribe anything in the mind of the operator, always did prescribe, if left to himself, some very simple remedy.

"When I mesmerized my subject," says Dr. Quimby, "he would prescribe some little simple herb that would do no harm or good of itself. In some cases this would cure the patient. I also found that any medicine would cure certain cases if he ordered it. This led me to investigate the matter, and arrive at the stand that the cure is not in the medicine, but in the confidence of the doctor or medium."

In his early invalid life, Dr. Quimby had been "filled," he tells us, with "calomel" and other "strong doses of allopathic poison." As we read his description of Lucius and the "simple herbs," the thought arises that the mesmeric subject might have had some power or aid after all, that his good operator passed over too cavalierly, and that the "herbs" might have appeared more efficacious, if a reminiscence of vigorous "blue pills," in which Dr. Quimby once had confidence, had not still dwelt on his tongue. It is certain that, since his time, some very sensible persons believe they have been cured of so dire an affliction as cancer by so innocent a concoction as clover tea.

Dr. Quimby, to use the language of his first biographer, Mr. Dresser, "progressed gradually out of mesmerism, into a knowledge of the hidden powers of mind; and he soon found in man a principle, or a power, that was not of man himself, but was higher than man, and of which he could only be a medium. Its character was goodness and intelligence; and its power was great. He also found that disease was nothing but an erroneous belief of mind.... On this discovery he founded a system of treating the sick, and founded a science of life.... His discovery was not made from the Bible, but from natural phenomena and searching investigation.... After the truth was discovered, he found his new views all portrayed and illustrated in Christ's teachings and works."

Some of these claims were reaffirmed by Dr. Quimby himself, in a letter written in 1860.[10]

"You inquire [he says] if I have ever cured any cases of chronic rheumatism. I answer, Yes; but ... you cannot be saved by pinning your faith on another's sleeve. Every one must answer for his own sins or belief. Our beliefs are the cause of our misery, and our happiness or misery is what follows our belief.... You ask if my practice belongs to any known science. My answer is, No; it belongs to a Wisdom that is above man as man.... It was taught eighteen hundred years ago, and has never had a place in the heart of man since, but is in the world, and the world knows it not."

In The Philosophy of P. P. Quimby, we are told that

"It was Dr. Quimby's chief aim to establish a science of life and happiness, which all could learn, and which should relieve humanity of sickness and misery."

But after our various quotations, we can readily perceive, as his biographer maintains, that "by the word, 'science,'" he always meant "not what is commonly understood by that word, but something spiritual." By "science," in short, or what he sometimes called "Wisdom," Dr. Quimby meant simply the principle of the universe, the presence, truth and power of God, at the foundation of the human soul.

Dr. Quimby said, and his disciples have said after him, that he "never went into any trance," and was "a strong disbeliever in Spiritualism, as understood by that name." Pursuing this statement in detail, we find that his criticism of the subject consisted mostly in his denying the accuracy of information derived from clairvoyants and spirit-mediums. But, in the words of one of his most intimate friends, he considered our two states of physical and spiritual life as "only a difference in dissolving views," and he believed that his own thought and senses existed, a part of the time, out of matter, or in "the scientific world."[11] He even affirmed, in connection with his view of disease as an impression of mind, that, transferring himself into the spiritual state of existence, he had cured his own parents, after death, of ailments which had not left them when they departed from their physical condition. To this strange man, Dr. Quimby, the world of matter and the world of spirit were so interblended as to be only two phases of the same thing, both of which he constantly experienced.

"What," he asks, "is this body that we see?" It is "a tenement for man to occupy when he pleases. But, as a man knows not himself, he reasons as though he were one of the fixtures of his house, or body.... What is the true definition of death. Death is the name of an idea.... So the destruction of an idea is death." Man "is dying and living all the time to error, till he dies the death of all his opinions and beliefs. Therefore to be free from death is to be alive in truth." In no other way than this, would Dr. Quimby even recognize such a fact as death. When he came to die himself, he said "I am perfectly willing for the change.... But I know that I shall be right here with you, just the same as I have always been. I do not dread the change any more than if I were going on a trip to Philadelphia."

Dr. Quimby, then, in his own way, certainly did believe, accept and avow what is commonly understood as Spiritualism, but he repudiated its frequently doubtful accompaniments.

"I know [said he] just how much reliance can be placed on a medium; for when in the mesmeric state, they are governed by the superstition and beliefs of the person they are in communication with.... The capacity of thought-reading is the common extent of mesmerism. Clairvoyance is very rare.... This state is of very short duration. They then come into that state where they are governed by surrounding minds. All the mediums of this day reason about medicine as much as the regular physician. They believe in disease and recommend medicine."

Here we have it, exactly. Dr. Quimby did not believe in disease, except as "an error of mind," and did not recommend medicine. So, while he accepted spirit-condition, to the fullest extent, he refused to accept information from it at second hand. He held that, because a man had "passed over to the other side," as the Spiritualists say, he was not necessarily any wiser than he had been in "mind reduced to a state called matter."

"The invisible world [said he] opens all the avenues of matter, through which to give the inhabitants communications; but the natural man has possession of the mediums, so that the scientific man is misrepresented in nine-tenths of all he says. Now to be in the scientific world is not necessarily to be wise, but to acknowledge a wisdom above the natural man, which will enter the world where wisdom sees through matter. This is the condition of those persons who are thrown into a clairvoyant state. To them, matter is nothing but an idea, that is seen or not, just as it is called out. All their senses are in this state, but are under the control of the natural man.... The explanation of the scientific world is given by these blind guides ... who cannot understand science."

From this last quotation, we can see precisely how Dr. Quimby at once accepted and rejected Spiritualism; and we can see, as well, how he reached the posture of rational idealism. As far as concerned his powers or gifts, the good man was what would now be called a "mesmerist," a "clairvoyant," and a "healing medium"—only he was of so sensitive a spiritual nature that he could exercise these faculties "in his senses," or in what, to him, was "a perfectly normal state." If, to his own direct vision and experience, "matter" was "nothing but an idea," to be "seen or not, just as it is called out," his conclusion could only be that "all that is seen by the natural man is mind reduced to a state called matter," and that "there is no matter independent of mind, or life."

But even if granting this posture as a philosophical premise, is it a logical conclusion to insist, with Dr. Quimby, that disease is merely "a belief," and that "health is wisdom?"

"I deny disease as a truth," said he, but "admit it as a deception. Disease is an evil that follows taking an opinion for a truth. Every disease is an invention of man, and has no identity in wisdom.... Disease is the misery of our belief, happiness is the health of our wisdom.... False reasoning is sickness and death.... The devil is the error of mankind.... We are made up of truth and error. Disease is an error, or belief; the Truth is the cure."

It is necessary to explain, however, that Dr. Quimby found the cause of human misery "not alone in the conscious mind" and the "opinions and beliefs about disease," but in the "mental influences and thoughts by which every person is surrounded," and in the "unconscious or subconscious mind." He declared that he could tell "an idea or cause" of sickness from the sensation produced by it, "just as a person knows an orange by the odor." As he "was able to do this," says Mr. Dresser, "he always told the patient, at the first sitting, what the latter thought was his disease, and never allowed the patient to tell him anything about the case."

In a later chapter of our book, the hypothesis that because, in the last analysis "all things are mind," all disease can be cured by mind while it exists in the body, will be carefully considered. Meanwhile it must be admitted, without reserve, that under this doctrine, which Dr. Quimby himself believed with all his might, he practised "healing," for many years, with marvelous success.

He labored, too, under great difficulties. Fifty years ago, the average inhabitant of New England was not quite so bigoted and superstitious, perhaps, as the Jews in the time of Christ, but quite enough so to suggest a comparison. Dr. Quimby was not orthodox in his theology, and was still less orthodox in medicine. As Mr. Dresser records the situation,

"[Those] who were then willing to try a practitioner outside of the medical schools, were persons who had exhausted every means of help within those schools, and, when finally booked for the grave, would send or go to Quimby."

In the way of a "grim joke," the Doctor himself said that his patients "would send for him and the undertaker at the same time, and the one who got there first would get the case." And the worst of it all was that his power, when acknowledged, was frequently "imputed to the devil." Still, he had more work than he could do—so much that it wore him completely out, and finally ended his life at the age of sixty-four. In his busiest days, he said:

"I have sat with more than three hundred individuals every year for ten years, and for the last five years I have averaged five hundred yearly—people with all sorts of diseases, and every possible state of mind, brought on by all kinds of ideas in which people believe. Religion in its various forms embraces many of these causes. Some cases have been occasioned by the idea that [the patients] had committed the unpardonable sin. When asked what it was, no two persons ever answered alike."

There is no doubt that Dr. Quimby's patients were generally cured, unless he told them at once that they were past his or any other mortal aid. "He saw through them at a glance," as all who knew him agree in testifying. To deceive him was impossible. For instance: A lady who scouted his special vision, and was in good health, went to him feigning illness, and for the purpose of a test. "He received her, as he would any one, and, after a few moments, without a word having been spoken, took his chair, and, placing it before her, sat down with his back to her, saying: 'That is the way you feel toward me. I think you don't need my services, and had better go home.'" A patient and friend—an eye-witness of unquestionable veracity—says:

"People were coming to Dr. Quimby from all parts of New England. Many of these came on crutches, or were assisted into the office; and it was most interesting to note their progress day by day, or the remarkable change produced by a single sitting.... I remember one lady who had used crutches for twenty years, who walked without them after a few weeks."

There is now living in Boston a gentleman who happens to be personally known to the present writer. The gentleman is a college graduate of high culture, of large experience, and with the rest, is an author of distinction. When a young man he had a serious affliction of the eyes, which gradually increased until he was threatened with blindness. He was a man of means, and no expense was spared to secure the best medical treatment. It was unavailing. He heard of Dr. Quimby, and, as the usual "last resort," applied to him. "He cured me," says the gentleman, "and I have had no trouble since. But how he did it I don't know. He sat and talked with me, and sometimes touched my head and face with his hands, moistened with cold water, though declaring even this to be of no vital consequence. He cured other people of all sorts of things, as easily as he cured me. Here I am with two good eyes, and you have the facts."[12]

The ultimate value of "The New Thought," or "Mental and Moral Healing," is yet a problem; but that P. P. Quimby was the spring and fountain of the whole stream, with its various branches, is beyond all reputable dispute. It rests on these grounds:

First. He claimed it himself in the presence of all whom he met, spreading the claim broadcast even in newspaper advertisements and business circulars.

Second. Many of the most intelligent and trustworthy of his patients became, as we have seen, correspondents of the press to express their gratitude for his cures, and scores of their articles have been preserved. With no exception, these articles substantiate Dr. Quimby's declaration that he alone, of all persons then living, treated disease through the normal action of the human mind.

Third. Dr. Quimby had a son, Mr. George A. Quimby, who acted for years as his father's secretary. This gentleman is living, and is a well and widely known citizen of Belfast, Maine. His distinct claim for Dr. Quimby is that "up to his time, no man, since Jesus, had attempted and succeeded in curing the sick, without medicine, applications, mesmerism, hypnotism or spiritualism, simply mentally—through the mind and sense—and who further claimed that he did it in a scientific manner which could be taught to others, ... and was in a normal state of mind all the time, as also was his patient."

Fourth. A number of Dr. Quimby's patients and close friends long survived him, and several of them still live. With a single exception, every one of these people has said, in substance, exactly what Mr. George A. Quimby states in detail.

Fifth. The single exception is a lady who once said what all the rest say—and who is completely on record as saying it—but who, for reasons easy to understand and explain, has since taken a lady's high and mighty privilege of "changing her mind." We will inspect this change.