Considering the very low state of civilization of those natives of Australia who have not come into contact with the European settlers, it is especially interesting to learn their notions on the employment of music in the cure of disease. These aborigines are divided into numerous tribes, who have no chief, or leader properly speaking, except the Crodgy, or "wise man," who, besides being a quack, is also the conductor of their ceremonies. They not unfrequently suffer from rheumatic pains in their limbs, which they believe to be caused by some demon. To protect themselves against the demons, they carry about them charms consisting of bits of rock crystal, called "mundy-stones," which they value highly. They endeavour to drive away the demons by whirling round their head an oval-shaped board, called moor-y-umkarr, which is curiously ornamented, and is suspended to a string. It produces an unearthly, humming sound, sometimes soft, sometimes loud and roaring, according to the force with which it is whirled. The doctor, in curing a sick person, proceeds much in the same manner as the medicine-man of the North American Indians. He, however, uses no rattle; a bunch of green reeds held in the hand and shaken serves the same purpose. The small-pox is so greatly feared by the natives that they possess a special song, called nguitkurra, by the singing of which the disease is believed to be prevented, or checked in its progress.[57] A native from the vicinity of Port Jackson, whose wife was complaining of a pain in the stomach, was observed by a European traveller to cure her in the following manner: "After blowing on his hand, he warmed it at a fire, and then applied it to the part affected, beginning at the same time a song which was probably calculated for the occasion. A piece of flannel being warmed and applied by a bystander, rendered the warming his hand unnecessary; but he continued his song, always keeping his mouth very near to the part affected, and frequently stopping to blow on it, making a noise after blowing, in imitation of the barking of a dog. But, though he blew several times, he only made that noise once at every pause, and then continued his song. The woman always made short responses whenever he ceased to blow and bark."[58]
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.