The Animal Cravings of Earth-bound Spirits
The Boston Sunday Herald of December 9th last, contains an account of its reporter’s visit to an eccentric doctor, who has put aside most of the ordinary conveniences of life, in order to show his neighbours that a man can live, without cares or troubles, on five shillings a-week, to the great chagrin of tax-gatherers, landlords, and the vendors of innumerable articles brought into use by civilisation. On Prospect Hill, Waltham, near Boston, U.S., this doctor has, partly by excavation, and partly by construction, built himself a queer kind of house, something after the fashion of a rabbit burrow; he has fenced in a piece of land round it, and lives almost entirely on the produce of his garden, which he cultivates himself. He is versed in philosophy, also in several branches of mystical rubbish, and he is known fin the locality as “the hermit.” He is a Spiritualist, lively and good-natured, and, on some subjects, sensible.
He admits the doctrine, now well established, that vicious spirits can taste the pleasures of earth over again by entering into mesmeric rapport with a medium, the community of sensation, so often witnessed in mesmeric experiments, being then established between them. But in pushing this theory to what he believes to be its consequences, he pictures, according to the Boston Herald^ the following results:—
“Obsession by spirits who control the appetites of their victims he regards as very common, readily accounting for inclinations to gormandise, and for all unnatural cravings of the stomach. ‘What,’ he asks, ‘caused an acquaintance of mine to arise from bed at midnight, to go down stairs, and to eat an entire pot of baked beans?’ An unsympathising listener suggested ‘gluttony.’ The doctor protested, and said ‘he was impelled to do so by the spirit of some person who died craving baked beans.’ This theory claims that persons who possess unnatural appetites in this world retain the same in the next, and, fastening themselves upon unfortunate human beings, gratify such tastes through them. Thus arises much of the drunkenness of the present day. The spirits of drunkards, to satisfy the cravings of their appetites, compel individuals here on earth to drink for them. The worst of it is that the poor mortals derive no benefit from this continual imbibing; the spirits absorb all good in the liquor, and leave only the dregs. Thus, if one unfortunate happens to be fixed upon by a number of intensely bibulous spirits, how dry he must continually be. He becomes a sort of filtering machine for his spiritual attaches. Some men seem to be always possessed by a legion of such spirits. But the doctor proposes a remedy for this kind of spiritual oppression; the experiment has already been successfully tried. A philanthropic gentleman of Boston, pitying these thirsty denizens of the spirit world, procured the services of a medium to assist in appeasing their habitual thirst. A liberal supply of all kinds of liquors was provided, and the spirits summoned. One ordered brandy, another whiskey, another gin, and so on. The medium drank all that was called for, and the spirits, getting the benefit of it, were absolved from the necessity of resorting to other mortals, for that day at least. Upon being reminded of the fact that the ‘mixing of drinks” in this prodigal manner will quickly overcome the most hardened drinkers, the doctor said that the spirits, out of gratitude, prevented evil effects to the medium. This theory and experiment suggest a new way of dealing with intemperance. If we can only satisfy the spirits, drunkenness will cease. ‘The Society for Suppressing Intemperance by Supplying the Spirit-World with Rum’ should be at once instituted.
As an instance of spirits preventing injury to the person drinking for them, the doctor relates the blood-curdling story of the Newburyport sailor. This individual was one morning attacked by an insatiate thirst. He hastened to a drug store, where, being unable to procure liquor, he ordered the clerk to prepare him some good strong prescription. This was done, he drank the mixture with a smack of his lips, paid his money, and departed. After he had gone the horrified clerk discovered that by mistake he had given dose of prussic acid; It was too late to follow after the customer and remedy the evil, and the clerk saw in imagination the state prison and gallows looming up before him. What was his astonishment, about an hour after, to see the same sailor, whom he thought to have been a corpse long ere this, walk into the store alive and well. Stepping up to the counter, he said, ‘That drink was first-rate. Give me another like it.’ It appears that the spirit impelling him to drink had such a depraved appetite, that it enjoyed its dose of prussic acid much as a Boston alderman enjoys his champagne in a pitcher; and the sailor was doubtless protected from injury so that the spirit could get another dose.”
Startling Phenomena
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Editor's notes
London Spiritualist, NNo. 280, January 4, 1878, p. 3