Considering how much in the cure of certain illnesses depends upon the spirits of the patient, it will easily be understood that the affecting power of music deserves special attention. There are illnesses in which the attainment of a calm state of mind may be a most important condition for the recovery of the patient,—nay, instances are conceivable in which with this attainment the illness is already in a great measure removed. Some persons are much more susceptible of music than others; but there are few in whose heart it finds not some response, however slight. Indeed, the beneficial influence of music is almost universally felt, and is evidenced by examples the authenticity of which is indisputable. No other art is so capable of easily moving man to tears of grief, of exciting him in a moment to cheerfulness, of inspiring him with courage, and of making him forget his real or imaginary troubles and anxieties. Hence, with almost every nation we find the employment of music resorted to on occasions of sadness and mourning, at solemn celebrations and joyful festivities, in warlike exploits, in religious worship,—in fact, wherever a definite direction of a certain feeling is especially requisite.
Also the popular stories, of which a selection is given in the present work, testify to the universally-felt power of music. In many of the stories miraculous effects are ascribed to music. What stronger proof can be cited of its intense impression upon the human heart than the popularity of such conceptions traditionally preserved through centuries!
But also the direct influence which the cultivation of music may exercise upon the body is not insignificant, considered medically. Thus, for instance, singing, if judiciously practised, is conducive to health, inasmuch as it benefits the lungs and the chest; and the playing on certain musical instruments is salutary, while on others it is injurious. Moreover, in combination with dancing, music is likely to prove in some complaints an efficacious remedy. Of course, everything depends upon its judicious employment, if it is to serve medically. In order exactly to ascertain its efficacy it is advisable to examine its employment as we find it in different nations. Even the most uncivilized tribes ought not to be ignored in this enquiry, because the dictates of instinct are often not less suggestive than the speculations of reason.
Nations, or tribes, in a low state of civilization, as there are many still existing at the present day, have generally so-called "mystery-men," or "medicine-men," who combine in one person the avocation of the priest, physician, and musician, and who are also usually prophets, sorcerers, rain-makers, shrewd advisers,—in short, men who by their comparatively superior knowledge and skill obtain considerable influence over their ignorant and superstitious fellow-men.
The most ancient nations historically known were far more advanced in civilization than these our contemporaries. However, we find with them traces of the original existence of "mystery-men." With the Greeks, music, or the art of the Muses, originally comprised, besides the tone-art, several other arts and sciences; from which it may be conjectured that the earliest Greek musicians practised also the healing art like the mystery-men of our time. The ancient Egyptians, at an early period, had attained a considerably higher stage of development in the cultivation of music than many nations of the present day have achieved. This assertion will not appear exaggerated to any musician who has carefully examined the ancient representations of the variously-constructed instruments which were in use with the Egyptians, centuries before our Christian era. Equally suggestive is a statement of Herodotus, indicating the progress which the Egyptians had made in the healing art, nearly 500 years before our era. He remarks (Euterpe 84): "The art of medicine is thus divided amongst them: each physician applies himself to one disease only, and not more. All places abound in physicians; some physicians are for the eyes, others for the head, others for the teeth, others for the parts about the belly, and others for internal disorders." Such a high degree of cultivation of an art or science, in which each professor occupies himself especially with a particular branch in order to achieve the utmost possible perfection in it, is known at the present day only among the most civilized nations.
If, therefore, we desire to obtain an accurate idea of the primitive treatment of diseases by means of music, a reference to the usages of some rude tribes in uncivilized lands will be the proper step for acquiring the information.
Considering that the mystery-men alluded to are, as a rule, mentally the most gifted and the most crafty personages of the tribe to which they belong, and that they are especially familiar with the views, inclinations, customs, and weaknesses of their people, a detailed account of the social position and doings of these extraordinary individuals in different parts of the world might be very interesting. It would, however, be out of place here to describe them further than as they appear in their medical and musical capacities.
The mystery-men of the North American Indians, or the "medicine-men," as they are more usually called, are acquainted with the medicinal virtues of a great many different kinds of roots and herbs, of which they make use in their prescriptions, and for which they are paid. Some of them enjoy a high reputation on account of their skill; and in general the medicine-man takes a high position among the people. Only when the common remedies of roots and herbs have proved unsuccessful does he resort to "medicine" or mystery. He arrays himself in a most grotesque dress, and provides himself with a rattle, commonly made of a gourd, which is hollowed and partly filled with pebbles. Thus equipped, he approaches his dying patient to cure him by a charm. He dances about him, singing songs of incantation, and producing a frightful noise by shaking his rattle. Catlin records a scene of an attempted cure of this description which he himself witnessed, as follows: "Several hundred spectators, including Indians and traders, were assembled round the dying man, when it was announced that the medicine-man was coming. We were required to form a ring, leaving a space of some thirty or forty feet in diameter around the dying man, in which the doctor would perform his wonderful operations; and a space was also opened to allow him free room to pass through the crowd without touching any one.... He approached the ring with his body in a crouching position, with a slow and tilting step. His body and head were entirely covered with the skin of a yellow bear, the head of which—his own head being inside of it—served as a mask; the huge claws of which also were dangling on his wrists and ankles. In one hand he shook a frightful rattle, and in the other he brandished his medicine-spear, or magic wand; to the rattling din and discord of all of which he added the wild and startling jumps and yelps of the Indian, and the horrid and appalling grunts, snarls, and growls of the grizzly bear, in ejaculatory and gutteral incantations to the Good and Bad Spirits, in behalf of his patient, who was rolling and groaning in the agonies of death, whilst he was dancing around him, jumping over him, and pawing him about, and rolling him in every direction. In this wise the strange operation proceeded for half an hour to the surprise of a numerous and death-like silent audience, until the man died; and the medicine-man danced off to his quarters, and packed up, tied and secured from the sight of the world his mystery dress and equipments."[43] Should the exhausted patient unaccountably recover after such a ceremony, the lucky medicine-man will be seen for several days after the event on the top of a wigwam, extending his right arm, waving it to the gaping multitude, and boasting of his skill.
With the Indian tribes in Columbia and Vancouver Island the medicine-man, although he may become of great importance if he is clever, is liable to be put to death if he fails to cure his patient; it being presumed that he possesses the power, but not the wish, to cure. A strange procedure of one of these fellows in trying to cure a female who lay dangerously ill, was witnessed by an Englishman, who has given a circumstantial description of it, from which the following extract will suffice:—
"Towards night the doctor came, bringing with him his own and another family to assist in the ceremony. After they had eaten supper, the centre of the lodge was cleared and fresh sand strewed upon it. A bright fire of dry wood was then kindled, and a brilliant light kept up by occasionally throwing oil upon it. I considered this a species of incense offered, as the same light would have been produced, if desired, by a quantity of pitch-knots which were lying in the corner. The patient, well wrapped in blankets, was laid on her back, with her head a little elevated, and her hands crossed on her breast. The doctor knelt at her feet, and commenced singing a song, the subject of which was an address to the dead, asking them why they had come to take his friend and mother, and begged them to go away and leave her. The rest of the people then sung the chorus in a low, mournful chant, keeping time by knocking on the roof with long wands they held.... As the performance proceeded, the doctor became more and more excited, singing loudly and violently, with great gesticulation, and occasionally making passes with his hand over the face and person of the patient, similar to those made by mesmeric manipulators."[44]