Musical Myths and Facts, Volume 2 (of 2)

An English missionary in Tanna Island, New Hebrides, relates that when a native of that Island is taken ill, his friends believe that his illness is occasioned by some one burning his nakah (i. e. "rubbish"). They have "disease-makers" who are believed to have in their hands the power of life and death, and who are consequently much feared. Every kind of nakah is carefully buried or thrown into the sea, lest the disease-maker should pick it up, wrap it in a leaf, and burn it. When a native is taken ill, his friends blow on a conch trumpet, which signifies a supplication to the disease-maker to discontinue burning the rubbish. If the sick man recovers, the disease-man receives a present for having left off burning. The rubbish generally consists of some refuse of food.59 The New Zealanders had formerly similar disease-makers, who were supposed to require a lock of hair, or some nail-parings, of the person whom they intended to afflict with disease.

Let us now turn to some tribes in cold regions of the North, to compare their musical ceremonies in the cure of illness with those in tropical countries.

The natives of Kamtschatka have persons called Shamans, who profess to be able to communicate with the spirits by arraying themselves in a grotesque garment, chanting, beating a drum, dancing, and working themselves up to a state of trance. They, on these occasions, drink an infusion of a species of fungus, which has an intoxicating power, and which sometimes makes them sleep afterwards for three or four days without interruption. Its effect must therefore be similar to that of opium. The Shamans of the Ostiaks, and of the Samoiedes, in Siberia, suspend to their dress metal representations of strange birds, fishes, and quadrupeds, with bones, teeth, and other frightful-looking things. In their incantations they shake the dress so that the metallic appendages produce clanging and tinkling sounds, the effect of which is increased by the Shaman's beating a drum, of the tambourine kind. Also the Laplanders, about a century ago, had such sorcerers, who used a drum called rune-bomme, or gobodes, the parchment of which was marked with mystic signs. The sorcerer was called Noaaid, or Spagubbe. Besides his magic drum he had a magic chain, about twelve inches in length, of tin and copper, which, when shaken, produced a shrill, tinkling noise. No journey, no business transaction was undertaken by the Lapp without his having previously consulted the Noaaid, who by means of a ring placed on the parchment of his drum, predicted the success of the undertaking. When he beat the drum, the vibration caused the ring to move to one or other of the mysterious signs marked upon the parchment; and from the position of the ring, he pretended to be able to divine the future. Moreover, he cured diseases by beating his drum to incantations and wild dancing. The Lapps believed that the defunct relations of the sick person attempted to draw him over to them; it, therefore, naturally suggested itself to his friends to engage the interference of the Noaaid, who professed to have intercourse with the spirits of the dead. The pagan Finns had the same notion, which is not surprising, considering that they and the Lapps are of one race. The sorcerers of the Finns recited songs, called lugut, when they attempted to exorcise the evil spirit of the patient, or to remove the witchcraft occasioning the mischief. These superstitions the Finnish races probably brought with them originally from Asia, where we still meet with them at the present day. It is remarkable that in time of remote antiquity, the priests of certain Eastern nations used tinkling instruments for the purpose of frightening away the demons. The ancient Egyptians shook the Sistrum; and the priests of the Copts and of the Abyssinian Christians observe still this very ancient custom. The Hebrew priests, at the time of Moses, had little bells attached to their robes for protection against evil influences; at any rate, it is recorded that the sound of Aaron's bell was to be heard "that he die not." (Exod. chap. xxviii., v. 35.)

A curious account of the employment of music in the cure of diseases in Chinese Tartary is given by M. Huc. He says: "When illness attacks any one his friends run to the nearest monastery for a Lama, whose first proceeding upon visiting the patient is to run his fingers over the pulse of both wrists simultaneously, as the fingers of a musician run over the strings of an instrument… After due deliberation the Lama pronounces his opinion as to the particular nature of the malady. According to the religious belief of the Tartars all illness is owing to the visitation of a Tchutgour, or demon, but the expulsion of the demon is first a matter of medicine. The Lama physician next proceeds, as Lama apothecary, to give the specific befitting the case. The Tartar pharmacopœia rejecting all mineral chemistry, the Lama remedies consist entirely of vegetables pulverized, and either infused in water or made up into pills. If the Lama doctor happens not to have any medicine with him he is by no means disconcerted; he writes the names of the remedies upon little scraps of paper, moistens the paper with saliva, and rolls them into pills, which the patient tosses down with the same perfect confidence as though they were genuine medicaments." When the invalid is a person of property, the Lamas make extraordinary preparations for expelling the Tchutgour, for which the invalid has to give them dresses and other presents. The aunt of Tokoura, chief of an encampment, visited by M. Huc, was seized one evening with an intermittent fever. "I would invite the attendance of the Lama doctor," said Tokoura, "but if he finds that there is a very big Tchutgour present, the expense will ruin me." He waited for some days; but, as the aunt grew worse and worse, he at last sent for a Lama. "His anticipations," M. Huc relates, "were confirmed. The Lama pronounced that a demon of considerable rank was present, and that no time must be lost in expelling him. Eight other Lamas were forthwith called in, who at once set about the construction, in dried herbs, of a great puppet, which they entitled The Demon of Intermittent Fevers, and which, when completed, they placed on its legs by means of a stick in the patient's tent. The ceremony began at eleven o'clock at night. The Lamas ranged themselves in a semi-circle round the upper portion of the tent, with cymbals, conch-trumpets, bells, tambourines, and other instruments of the noisy Tartar music. The remainder of the circle was completed by the members of the family squatting on the ground close to one another, the patient kneeling, or rather crouched on her knees, opposite the 'Demon of intermittent fevers.' The Lama doctor-in-chief had before him a large copper basin filled with millet, and some little images made of paste. The dung-fuel (argols) threw, amid much smoke, a fantastic and quivering light over the strange scene.60 Upon a given signal, the clerical orchestra executed an introductory piece harsh enough to frighten Satan himself, the lay congregation beating time with their hands to the charivari of clanging instruments and ear-splitting voices. The diabolic concert over, the Grand Lama opened the Book of Exorcisms, which he rested on his knees. As he chanted one of the forms, he took from the basin, from time to time, a handful of millet, which he threw east, west, north and south, according to the Rubric. The tones of his voice, as he prayed, were sometimes mournful and suppressed, sometimes vehemently loud and energetic. All of a sudden he would quit the regular cadence of prayer, and have an outburst of apparently indomitable rage, abusing the herb puppet with fierce invectives and furious gestures. The exorcism terminated, he gave a signal by stretching out his arms, right and left, and the other Lamas struck up a tremendously noisy chorus, in hurried, dashing tones; all the instruments were set to work, and meantime the lay congregation, having started up with one accord, ran out of the tent, one after the other, and, tearing round it like mad people, beat it at their hardest with sticks, yelling all the while at the pitch of their voices, in a manner to make ordinary hair stand on end."

Then they returned to the tent, and repeated the same scene. After they had done this three times, they covered their faces with their hands, and the Grand Lama set fire to the herb figure. "As soon as the flames rose, he uttered a loud cry, which was repeated with interest by the whole company… After this strange treatment, the malady did not return. The probability is that the Lamas, having ascertained the precise moment at which the fever-fit would recur, met it at the exact point of time by this tremendous counter-excitement, and overcame it."61

The Burmese, especially those of the mountain region of south and east Burmah, have priests and sorcerers, called Wees and Bookhoos, who "pretend to cure diseases, to know men's thoughts, and to converse with the spirits. Their performances are fraught with awe and terror to a superstitious people. They begin with solemn and mysterious movements; at length every muscle is agitated, while with frantic looks and foaming mouth they utter oracles, or speak to a man's spirit and declare its responses."62 In cases of severe illness which have resisted the skill of native medical art, the physician gravely tells the patient and relatives that it is useless to have recourse any longer to medicine. An evil Natch ("spirit") is the author of the complaint, and requires to be expelled. This is accomplished by means of music and dancing, while the physician gives to the patient some medicine, pointed out to him as an infallible remedy by an accomplice in a kind of trance during the ceremony.63

That in certain complaints it may be beneficial to the invalid to dance to the sound of music, is owing to the exhilarating influence of the music as well as to the bodily exercise of the dancing.

The treatment of the Tarantism, or the derangement of the system caused by the bite of the Tarantula, a venomous spider in Apulia, Italy, has been so often described by medical and musical men, that a detailed account of it is hardly required here. Suffice it to notice the opinions entertained by some careful medical inquirers, respecting the efficacy of music and dancing in the cure of this illness. Nicolo Peroti, an Italian Archbishop, who lived in the fifteenth century, is supposed to have been the first who in his writings has drawn attention to the symptoms attributed to the bite of the Tarantula. Achille Vergari, a physician, in his treatise, entitled, 'Tarantismo, o malattia prodotta dalle Tarantole velenose,' Naples, 1839, says that not all these spiders are alike poisonous, but that some are so to a degree that a person bitten by them is sure to die almost immediately, notwithstanding all antidotes administered to him. According to Vergari, the Tarantula is found not only in South Italy, but also in Sardinia, the Caucasus, Persia, Abyssinia, Madagascar, the West Indies, and in several other hot regions. The poison consists in a fluid secreted in glands, which, when the spider bites, is pressed into the wound, and thus diffused throughout the body. The poison is most virulent during the dog-days, and during the period of breeding, especially if the spider is irritated, and if the person bitten is particularly susceptible for the action of the poison; under other circumstances it causes but little injury, or none at all. The only specific cure for the bite is believed to be music and dancing. The animating sound of the tune known as the Tarantella subdues the depressing effect of the poison; the invalid feels invigorated by the music; he raises himself and begins to move his hands and feet to the time of it; and, be he old or young, though he may never before in his life have danced, he is irresistibly forced to dance until exhaustion compels him to desist. The dancing sometimes lasts three hours without cessation, and is repeated for three or four successive days. The most salutary time for it is the early morning, at sunrise, when the patient usually perspires, sighs, complains, and behaves like an intoxicated person. Occasionally, while dancing, he takes in his hands green branches, or ribbons of some particular colour; or he wants to be dressed in showy garments. The black colour he hates, and the sight of a person dressed in black irritates him greatly. The room in which the dancing takes place is ornamented with different bright colours, green branches, and looking-glasses. Some insist upon carrying weapons in their hands while dancing; others desire to be beaten; or they beat themselves; and so on. The musical instruments formerly used in playing the Tarantella are the violin, violoncello, guitar, flute, organ, lute, cither, shalm, and tambourine. Some of these instruments have now become obsolete; nor are the others always used in combination, but more frequently singly.

These statements were collected by Vergari from the observations of the most intelligent physicians and surgeons in Apulia, and other districts of the former kingdom of Naples.

De Renzi, a distinguished physician of Naples, sent, in the year 1841, to the 'Raccoglitore Medico,' published in Fano, the following account of a Tarantism witnessed by Doctor Samuele Costa. Giuseppe Mastria, a peasant from a small village in the southern district of the province Terra d'Otranto, twenty years of age, of robust bodily constitution, while mowing grass, in June, 1840, felt a sudden pain on his right arm, near the insertion of the Deltoid muscle, and saw that he was bitten by a speckled spider, the Aranea Tarantula. The wound having become livid, enlarged and spread the pain over the arm and the back of the neck. He was seized with anxiety and with pressure on the Præcordia, inclination to vomit, faintness, cold skin, and weak pulse. After some time, the warmth of the body increased, and the pulse became stronger. The patient experienced great thirst, heavy breathing, restlessness, and the impossibility of standing on his legs. When, however, the Tarantella was played to him, he suddenly became convulsive, jumped out of the bed, and danced briskly for nearly two hours. Tired and profusely perspiring, he consequently slept quietly and uninterruptedly. After several repetitions of the music in the course of three days, he entirely recovered.64

Dr. Martinus Kähler, a Swedish physician, who visited Apulia in the year 1756, for the express purpose of investigating the Tarantism thoroughly, came to the conclusion that it is not caused by the Tarantula, but that it is a peculiar hypochondria with hysteria, to which the inhabitants of the island of Taranto are especially subject on account of their mode of living, and from their food consisting principally of green vegetables, oysters, and periwinkles. Be this as it may, the complaint is, according to medical opinion, curable by means of music and dancing.

Thomas Shaw, who visited the Barbary States about the year 1730, mentions the Boola-kaz, a venomous spider in the desert of Sahara, the bite of which is cured thus: "The patient lies sometimes buried all over, excepting his head, in the hot sands, or else in a pit dug and heated for the purpose, in order, no doubt, to obtain the like copious perspiration that is excited by dancing in those who are bitten by the Tarantula."65

The Tigretiya of Abyssinia is in some respects similar to the Tarantism; it is, however, not caused by the bite, or sting, of any animal. The Tigretiya has its name from occurring principally in the Abyssinian district called Tigré. It is a kind of melancholy, the first symptoms of which usually are a gradual wasting away of the attacked person. Music and dancing are used as the most effective remedies for healing the sufferer.

A strange illness of the natives of Madagascar is described by the Missionary W. Ellis as "an intermittent disorder, with periods of delirium, a species of hysteria readily infectious." The sufferers perambulate in groups, singing, dancing, and running, accompanied by their friends, who carry bottles of water for them, as they generally complain of thirst, – which is not surprising, considering the state of excitement to which they work themselves up. Their whims being encouraged by the people, must rather impede the beneficial result which they might derive from singing and dancing, as far as concerns the restoration to a sound state of health. Their morbid affection of the nervous system is, however, especially interesting if compared with a similar derangement in European countries during the Middle Ages, of which some account shall presently be given.

The exercise of dancing to the sound of cheerful music is universally known to be, under certain circumstances conducive to the preservation of health. Thus, the traveller, H. Salt, relates that the Negro slaves in Mozambique "assembled in the evening to dance, according to the usual practice, for keeping them in health."66 The same means were formerly resorted to by slave-owners in America. Likewise, during a voyage to the Arctic Sea, it has been found useful to order the sailors occasionally to dance on deck to the music of a barrel-organ, to keep them in health and good spirits.

On the other hand, there are instances on record of music and dancing having nourished morbid feelings and extravagant notions. At all events, certain Terpsichorean performances of religious fanatics can only be thus regarded. The most extraordinary exhibitions of this kind among Christian sects occurred on the Continent during the Middle Ages, and are described in an interesting little book, by J. F. C. Hecker, entitled 'Die Tanzwuth, eine Volkskrankheit im Mittelalter; nach den Quellen für Aerzte und gebildete Nichtärzte bearbeitet,' (The Dancing Mania, an epidemic in the Middle Ages; compiled from original sources, for medical men and intelligent non-medical men. Berlin, 1832.) The author, a Doctor of Medicine, in Berlin, treats especially of the St. John's Dance and the St. Vitus's Dance, which, during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, were performed in Germany by perambulating fanatics who, in some respects, resembled certain Revivalists of our days. He carefully traces the origin of these morbid conceptions, the extravagant practices to which they led, and their gradual discontinuance during the seventeenth century. The persons afflicted with this nervous malady, men and women, wandered in troops from town to town and danced to the sound of musical instruments in the churches and streets. The authorities of some of the towns were of opinion that music and dancing alone could effectively cure this strange affection. They, therefore, hired musicians in order to bring on the dancing-fits the more rapidly; and they ordered strong, healthy men, to mix with the dancers with the object of compelling them to continue their violent exertions until they were quite exhausted, – a condition which was supposed to be a preliminary step to their restoration to health. Of the magistrates of Basle, for instance, it is recorded that in the sixteenth century they engaged some strong men to dance with a girl afflicted with the dancing mania, until she was recovered. One man substituted another, and this strange cure they continued about four weeks with scarcely any interruption, until the patient was exhausted and unable to stand on her legs. She was then carried to an hospital, where she completely regained her health.

The following miraculous occurrence, which is recorded in William of Malmesbury's 'Chronicle of the Kings of England' as having taken place in the year 1012, illustrates the fanaticism alluded to. The statement is by one of the poor sufferers: —

"I, Ethelbert, a sinner, even were I desirous of concealing the divine judgment which overtook me, yet the tremor of my limbs would betray me; wherefore I shall relate circumstantially how this happened, that all may know the heavy punishment due to disobedience. We were on the eve of our Lord's nativity, in a certain town of Saxony, in which was the church of Magnus the Martyr, and a priest named Robert had begun the first mass. I was in the church-yard with eighteen companions, – fifteen men and three women, – dancing and singing profane songs to such a degree that I interrupted the priest, and our voices resounded amid the sacred solemnity of the mass. Wherefore, having commanded us to be silent and not being attended to, he cursed us in the following words: – 'May it please God and St. Magnus that you may remain singing in the same manner for a whole year!' – His words had their effect. The son of John the Priest seized his sister, who was singing with us, by the arm, and immediately tore it from the body; but not a drop of blood flowed out. She also remained a whole year with us dancing and singing. The rain fell not upon us; nor did cold, nor heat, nor hunger, nor thirst, nor fatigue assail us: we neither wore our clothes nor shoes, but we kept on singing as though we had been insane. First we sunk into the ground up to our knees; next to our thighs. A covering was at length, by the permission of God, built over us, to keep off the rain. When a year had elapsed, Herbert, bishop of the city of Cologne, released us from the tie wherewith our hands were bound, and reconciled us before the altar of St. Magnus. The daughter of the priest, with the other two women, died immediately; the rest of us slept three whole days and nights. Some died afterwards, and were famed for miracles; the remainder betray their punishment by the trembling of their limbs.

"This narrative was given to us by the Lord Peregrine, the successor of Herbert, in the year of our Lord 1013."

In our time, exhibitions of a morbid religious enthusiasm, called forth, or promoted by music, are less common with Christians than with Mohammedans. In the sacred dance of the Dervishes, the music, which is soft and plaintive, represents the music of the spheres; while the Dervishes turning in a circle round their superior, who sits quietly in the centre, represent the planetary system in its relation to the sun. So far, the procedures of these fanatics are intelligible enough; but the words of their songs are so mystic that probably the Dervishes themselves are unable to attach a reasonable meaning to them. Still more extraordinary is the behaviour of the Aïssaoua, a kind of Mohammedan fraternity in the Barbary States, who by means of music and dancing work themselves up to a state of ecstasy, in which they fancy themselves to be camels, – or, at any rate, in which they convey to others the impression that they are brutes rather than reasonable beings. As regards Christian sects, certain sacred evolutions of the Shakers, in the United States of North America, are not less extravagant than those of the Dervishes in Egypt or Turkey. Here too, music appears to have an injurious effect upon the people, inasmuch as it excites their morbid emotions.

Turning now to our literature on the medical employment of music, we find a number of treatises, the most important of which shall be briefly noticed by their titles. Of such only as are not easily attainable, some account of their contents shall be added.

'Medica Musica: or, a Mechanical Essay on the effects of Singing, Musick, and Dancing, on Human Bodies; Revis'd and corrected. To which is annex'd a New Essay on the nature and cure of the Spleen and Vapours. By Richard Browne, Apothecary, in Oakham, in the County of Rutland; London, 1729.' – This is the second edition, enlarged. The first edition was published without the name of the author.

'Die Verbindung der Musik mit der Arzneygelahrtheit, von Ernst Anton Nicolai.' (The Association of Music with the Science of Medicine, by E. A. Nicolai; Halle, 1745.) – Nicolai was Professor of Medicine at the University of Jena, in Germany.

'Reflections on Antient and Modern Musick, with the application to the Cure of Diseases; to which is subjoined an essay to solve the question wherein consisted the difference of ancient musick from that of modern time;' London, 1749. – The author, Richard Brocklesby, was a physician in London. – A circumstantial account of the contents of this treatise is given in 'Historisch-Kritische Beyträge zur Aufnahme der Musik, von F. W. Marpurg;' Vol. II., Berlin, 1756; p. 16-37.

'Traité des Effets de la Musique sur le corps humain, traduit du Latin et augmenté des notes, par Etienne Sainte-Marie;' Paris, 1803. – This is an annotated translation of a dissertation written in Latin by Joseph Ludovicus Roger, and published at Avignon in 1758.