She published her book.  She copyrighted it.  She copyrights everything.  If she should say, “Good-morning; how do you do?” she would copyright it; for she is a careful person, and knows the value of small things.

She began to teach her Science, she began to heal, she began to gather converts to her new religion—­fervent, sincere, devoted, grateful people.  A year or two later she organized her first Christian Science “Association,” with six of her disciples on the roster.

She continued to teach and heal.  She was charging nothing, she says, although she was very poor.  She taught and healed gratis four years altogether, she says.

Then, in 1879-81 she was become strong enough, and well enough established, to venture a couple of impressively important moves.  The first of these moves was to aggrandize the “Association” to a “Church.”  Brave?  It is the right name for it, I think.  The former name suggests nothing, invited no remark, no criticism, no inquiry, no hostility; the new name invited them all.  She must have made this intrepid venture on her own motion.  She could have had no important advisers at that early day.  If we accept it as her own idea and her own act—­and I think we must—­we have one key to her character.  And it will explain subsequent acts of hers that would merely stun us and stupefy us without it.  Shall we call it courage?  Or shall we call it recklessness?  Courage observes; reflects; calculates; surveys the whole situation; counts the cost, estimates the odds, makes up its mind; then goes at the enterprise resolute to win or perish.  Recklessness does not reflect, it plunges fearlessly in with a hurrah, and takes the risks, whatever they may be, regardless of expense.  Recklessness often fails, Mrs. Eddy has never failed—­from the point of view of her followers.  The point of view of other people is naturally not a matter of weighty importance to her.

The new Church was not born loose-jointed and featureless, but had a defined plan, a definite character, definite aims, and a name which was a challenge, and defied all comers.  It was “a Mind-healing Church.”  It was “without a creed.”  Its name, “The Church of Christ, Scientist.”

Mrs. Eddy could not copyright her Church, but she chartered it, which was the same thing and relieved the pain.  It had twenty-six charter members.  Mrs. Eddy was at once installed as its pastor.

The other venture, above referred to, was Mrs. Eddy’s Massachusetts Metaphysical College, in which was taught “the pathology of spiritual power.”  She could not copyright it, but she got it chartered.  For faculty it had herself, her husband of the period (Dr. Eddy), and her adopted son, Dr. Foster-Eddy.  The college term was “barely three weeks,” she says.  Again she was bold, brave, rash, reckless—­choose for yourself—­for she not only began to charge the student, but charged him a hundred dollars a week for the enlightenments.  And got it? some