Music is capable of exercising a favourable influence upon health, but
it may also prove injurious. In order to know how to employ it with good
result in certain illnesses, an exact acquaintance with its various
effects is requisite. First of all, it ought to be borne in mind that
music may serve as a remedy either by directly affecting the mind, or by
acting primarily upon the body. In the former case its influence may be
called psychical; and in the latter, physical.
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]
Likewise, in a cure effected in the case of a sick lad of the Wallawalla
Indians, Columbia river, which Mr. Drayton witnessed, there appears to
have been a kind of mesmerism used in combination with music. This case
is also noteworthy inasmuch as it shows that the Indians have female
physicians. The lad was lying on his back in a lodge and appeared to be
in a dying state. Over him stood an old haggard-looking squaw, who was
singing in great excitement, while about a dozen men and boys were
accompanying her with their voices in a sort of chorus, the rhythmical
effect of which they increased by striking sticks together at regular
intervals. The music thus produced sounded unearthly to the foreign
bystander. The squaw was all the time very busy about the lad, now
bending over him and making all kinds of grimaces, and now baring his
chest and pretending by her actions to be scooping out his disease, and
now again falling on her knees before him and striving to draw out the
evil spirit with both her hands. She blew into her hands and then moved
them over the patient in a peculiar manner as if she were tossing the
noxious spirit away into the air. Then again she would blow with her
mouth on his neck downwards, making a quick sputtering noise; and at
last she began to suck his neck and chest in different parts. Whatever
may be thought of this operation, the boy certainly soon got better.
Moreover, our informant concludes his account of the occurrence with the
statement: "One singular custom prevailing here (with the Indians of
Wallawalla) is that all the convalescents are directed to sing for
several hours during the day."[45]
The Indian tribes in Guiana have mystery-men, called Piatzas, or Piaies,
who constitute a powerful priesthood. In their incantations they use
rattles, and also drums and bells. When a person suffering from a
protracted illness finds the commonly-used medicines of no avail, his
refuge is to the Piatza, to induce him to drive out the evil spirit that
must be the cause of the mischief. The Piatza carries the patient into
the nearest forest, and having fastened his hammock to some tree across
a pass, he commences the incantations, which he accompanies with the
noise of his rattle. The rattle consists of a calabash partly filled
with small pebbles. During his incantations no one is permitted to
witness what he is doing, even the patient being enjoined to close his
eyes and to keep them shut until the end of the ceremony. The Piatza
draws a circle round the sick person and addresses the evil spirit.[46]
Again, the _Manchi_, or medicine-man of the Peguenches and other Indian
tribes in the Argentine Provinces, is skilled in the use of herbs. If
remedies of this kind prove ineffectual, mysterious ceremonies are
resorted to. A sheep and a colt are killed, and are placed with vessels
of a fermented liquor, called _chichala_, under trees close to a hut;
the patient is carried out of the hut and laid on the sunny side of the
trees. The _Manchi_ and the women now dance in a circle round the trees,
the animals, and the sick person. When the dancers are exhausted the
_Manchi_ fumigates the animals and the sick person three times, and then
sucks the diseased part of the man with such force as to draw blood.
After this, he sucks the heart of the colt and anoints the sick person
with the blood of the animal. At the conclusion of these disgusting
ceremonies, in the performance of which the _Manchi_ affects to be in a
trance, dancing is recommenced, and the patient is forced to join in it,
supported by his friends. A general feast, in which the people consume
the animals, concludes the ceremony.[47] The _Manchi_ generally uses a
kind of drum in his incantations.
The mystery-men of the Araucanian Indians are called _Gligua_, or
_Dugol_, and some of them are distinguished by the epithets
_Guenguenu_, _Genpugni_, and _Genpuri_ (_i. e._ "Master of the heavens,
of epidemic diseases, of worms and insects,") and are supposed to have
the power of curing every disease, of producing rain, and of preventing
the ravages of worms and insects. The real medicine-men are called
_Machi_,[48] and their method of curing is similar to that of the
_Manchi_ of the Argentine Provinces just described. The ceremony is,
however, always performed in the night. The hut in which the patient
lies is lighted with a great number of torches. In a corner of the room
is placed, among branches of laurel, a large bough of cinnamon, to which
is suspended the magic drum; and near to it is a sheep which is to be
killed for sacrifice. A number of women sing aloud and beat upon little
drums, while the _Machi_ proceeds, with frightful gesticulations and
horrible contortions of his body, to exorcise the evil spirit which is
supposed to be the cause of the malady.[49] Sometimes he will suddenly
exhibit in triumph a spider, a toad, or some other obnoxious animal,
which he pretends to have extracted from the body of the sufferer.[50] A
more detailed account of these impostors is unnecessary, especially as
the works are mentioned which contain full descriptions of them.
The largest Indian tribes in Patagonia, the Moluches and the Puelches,
have male and female sorcerers. Boys who suffer from epileptic fits, or
from the St. Vitus's dance, are selected for this office, and are
brought up in it. They have to adopt female apparel, which they continue
to wear when grown up. These men, dressed like women, are supposed to
have been destined for their profession by the demons themselves. They,
likewise, assume the power of curing disease by means of incantations
accompanied with the noise of rattles and drums.[51]
The close resemblance of certain practices of the medicine-men among
uncivilized nations in different parts of the globe, is especially
suggestive. Nor are the differences without interest.
Turning to Africa, we have musical-medical practitioners with the
Negroes and Kafirs, whose art must have originated quite independently
of that of the American medicine-men. The Negroes in Jamaica have
sorcerers and physicians, called Obeah-men, whose ceremonies are
probably of African origin, although they are in many respects similar
to those of the Indian medicine-men. The Obeah-men, being well
acquainted with the peculiar effects of the different poisonous plants,
it is said, often make bad use of their knowledge.[52] When attending a
sick person, the Obeah-man generally commences his cure with a dance,
and he administers a powder, or a liquor, to his victim.[53]
The Negroes in Western Africa have professional musicians or minstrels,
called in Senegambia, _Griots_; singing men, or bards, called
_Jillikea_; Fetish priests who drum and dance as if they themselves were
possessed of evil spirits; Priestesses of the Serpent worship, which has
its principal temples in Whydah; Rain-makers; Wizards, called
_Greegree-men_; and other "wise men," who are also physicians and
musicians. The _Ganga_, in Loango, South Western Africa, are, according
to the Abbe Proyard, priests as well as physicians: "When they come to a
patient, they ask him where his ailment lies. They blow on the part
affected: after that, they make fomentations, and tie up his limbs in
different places with bandages. These are the preliminaries used in all
diseases. They know nothing either of phlebotomy, or of medicine....
They know a very salutary remedy, in their opinion, for all diseases;
but this they only employ in favour of those who can afford the expense.
When they are called in to a rich man, they take with them all the
performers on musical instruments they can find in the country. They
all enter in silence; but, at the first signal which they give, the
musical troop begin their performance. Some are furnished with stringed
instruments, others beat on the trunks of hollow trees covered with
skin,--a sort of tabor. All of them uniting their voices with the sound
of the instruments round the patient's bed, make a terrible uproar and
din, which is often continued for several days and nights in
succession."[54]
The mystery-man in Benguela is called _Kimbanda_. He performs his
ceremonies in the forest, in the presence of the people. Before him
stands a calabash with a wide opening, in which are figures rudely
carved, of wood or bone, which represent different kinds of wild
animals. A rattle, which he holds in his hand, consists of a hollow
calabash containing pebbles. He shakes his rattle and addresses the
figures in a recitation, interspersed with questions concerning the
ailments of his patient. An assistant, who is hidden in the
neighbourhood of the figures, answers the questions in a hollow tone of
voice, as if it came from the figures. However, for the accomplishment
of the cure a sacrifice of a cow is generally demanded by those greedy
figures; or even more, according to the means of the patient. The
answers given by the figures are generally so indistinct that no one but
the _Kimbanda_ can understand them; and he communicates them to the
people.[55]
The Somali, in Eastern Africa, have similar mystery-men, called
_Tawuli_; and the natives of Zanzibar have the _Mganga_, who professes
to heal the patient by expelling the demon by means of his singing and
the shaking of his rattle. The mystery-man of the Kafirs of Natal
likewise accompanies his recitations with a rattle. He is an
extraordinarily dangerous and objectionable personage; for, when the
cattle fall sick, or some other mischief happens, he is apt to declare
that it has been caused by some evil-doer whom he can find out. He
sings and dances towards several individuals in succession, and affects
to examine them by his olfactory sense. Suddenly he touches one with the
gnu's tail which he carries in his hand. He leaps over the head of the
unhappy man, and points him out as the offender.[56] Also the Bechuana,
in fact every Kafir tribe, has one or more of such personages, who are
physicians and musicians, as well as priests, prophets, and rain-makers.
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
pharmacopoeia 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 Praecordia, 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 Kaehler, 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 Tigre. 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 fuer Aerzte und gebildete Nichtaerzte 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 Aissaoua, 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 Beytraege zur Aufnahme der Musik, von F.
W. Marpurg;' Vol. II., Berlin, 1756; p. 16-37.
'Traite des Effets de la Musique sur le corps humain, traduit du Latin
et augmente 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.
Desbout (Luigi): 'Ragionamento fisico-chirurgico sopra l'effetto della
Musica nelle malattie nervose;' Livorno, 1780.--A French translation
appeared in the year 1784, in St. Petersburg, entitled: 'Sur l'Effet de
la Musique dans les Maladies nerveuses.'
Buc'hoz (Pierre Joseph): 'L'Art de connaitre et de designer le pouls par
les notes de la Musique, de guerir par son moyen la melancolie, et le
Tarentisme qui est une espece de melancolie; accompagne de 198
observations, tirees tant de l'histoire que des annales de la medicine
qui constatent l'efficacite de la musique, non seulement sur le corps
mais sur l'ame, dans l'etat de sante, ainsi que dans celui de maladie.
Ouvrage curieux, utile et interessant; propre a inspirer le gout de cet
art, qui est pour nous un vrai present des cieux;' Paris, 1806.--A
treatise with a similar title, by F. N. Marquet, appeared at Nancy in
the year 1747.
Lichtenthal (Peter): 'Der musikalische Arzt; oder, Abhandlung von dem
Einflusse der Musik auf den menschlichen Koerper, und von ihrer Anwendung
in gewissen Krankheiten,' (The Musical Physician; or, a Treatise on the
influence of music upon the human body, and on its application in
certain illnesses. Vienna, 1807.)--An Italian translation of this work
appeared in Milan in the year 1811.
Schneider (Peter Joseph): 'System einer medizinischen Musik; ein
unentbehrliches Handbuch fuer Medizin-Beflissene, Vorsteher der
Irren-Heilanstalten, praktische Aerzte, und unmusikalische Lehrer
verschiedener Disciplinen,' (A System of Medical Music; an indispensable
guide for Students of Medicine, Principals of Lunatic Asylums,
Practical Physicians, and unmusical teachers of different methods. Bonn,
1835.) This comprehensive work, in two volumes, contains much
information on the subject in question, interspersed with many remarks
and citations which have little or no bearing on music considered
medically. The last seventy-two pages of the second volume contain a
sort of autobiography of the author.
To musicians, the most useful books among this class of literature are
those which give good advice concerning the preservation of health.
F. W. Hunnius, a Doctor of Medicine in Weimar, wrote a book entitled
'Der Arzt fuer Schauspieler und Saenger' (The Physician for Actors and
Singers. Weimar, 1798,) which, no doubt, has been useful to many.
Another German publication of the kind, in which especial attention is
given to the practice of musical instruments in so far as it affects the
health, bears the title 'Aerztlicher Rathgeber fuer Musiktreibende'
(Medical Adviser for those who cultivate Music) by Karl Sundelin,
Berlin, 1832. The author, a Doctor of Medicine in Berlin, wrote his book
with the assistance of his brother, who was a professional musician in
the orchestra of the King of Prussia. This treatise is so noteworthy
that the following account of it will, it is hoped, be of interest to
the reflecting musician. Its table of contents is:--
"I. Of Singing. On the means of facilitating the practice of singing.
Dietary and general rules for male singers, and for female singers. Of
the different human voices.
II. Of the Clavier-Instruments, or Keyed-Instruments. The Pianoforte.
The Organ. The Harmonica with a key-board.
III. Of the Stringed Instruments. The Violin and the Viola (or Tenor).
The Violoncello. The Double Bass. The Guitar. The Harp.
IV. Of the Wind Instruments. Means for facilitating the practice and
dietary rules for players on wind instruments. The Flageolet and the
Czakan. The Flute. The Oboe and the English Horn. The Clarionet and the
Basset Horn. The Bassoon and the Contra-Fagotto. The Horn. The Trumpet.
The Trombone. The Serpent. General dietary and medical rules for those
who cultivate music. Of the disturbances and injuries to the nervous
system through disadvantageous influences by the practice of music. Care
and treatment of particular diseased parts and structures. Of the chest
and the lungs. The especial attention and care required by the organs of
the voice. Of the diseases to which the mouth is subjected. The Teeth.
The Lips. Of the Fingers. The Eyes and the Face. Prescriptions for some
of the medicaments alluded to in the preceding dissertation."
The author is of opinion that the practice of music may be in many ways
injurious to bodily health. However, he remarks, that since music is
capable of expressing emotions which cannot be expressed by words or
pictures, it relieves the heart of anything which is oppressive and
distressing, and thus through the mind generally acts beneficially upon
the body. He asserts that music has healed many a sufferer whose life
was embittered by the fetters of melancholia, or the tortures of
hypochondria. To persons suffering from indigestion and its harassing
effects, he recommends a daily practice on some instrument which
requires a rather fatiguing exertion of the body; such as the organ, on
which hands and feet are occupied. His remarks on singing are judicious;
but many of them would naturally suggest themselves to any thinking
musician. No doubt, moderation in eating and drinking is recommendable,
and the singer has to take care not to catch a cold; but it may be
useful to him to be told by a medical man what kind of food is most
conducive to the preservation of his voice, and how he can best protect
himself against the injurious effects of sudden changes from heat and
cold, to which professional singers are often exposed.
Pianoforte playing our medical adviser considers rather hurtful to
health. The exertion of the hands and arms, while the position of the
body remains nearly immovable, causes a stronger flow of blood to the
chest than is natural. The pressure of the points of the fingers, where
the nerves are especially sensitive, is apt to be injurious to the
nervous system. This is still more the case in practising on
instruments on which the strings are pressed down with the points of the
fingers, as for instance on the violin; and also, though in a less
degree, on instruments the strings of which are twanged with the
fingers, as they are on the harp. The practice, however, causes the skin
at the finger-ends to harden, and the touch becomes consequently less
sensitive. Decidedly hurtful to the nerves is the sensation produced by
the friction of the moistened fingers in playing the glass-harmonica and
similar instruments. Among the wind instruments blown by being placed to
the mouth, those which require a sudden and prolonged retardation of the
breath, or a forcible compression of the air in the lungs, are
especially liable, by constant practice, to prove injurious to health.
The author has much to say on this subject, and he particularly warns
against too continuous playing on the oboe, trumpet, horn, trombone, and
serpent. As regards the clarionet, its practice, he says, is likely to
be injurious on account of the quantity of air which it requires. The
player is often compelled to take a deeper inspiration than is natural,
and constantly to pay regard to being provided with a supply of air
compressed in his lungs. Furthermore, considering that musical
performances very frequently take place in artificial light, the
eyesight of the musician is apt to be disadvantageously affected. In
this respect also the playing on some instruments is more injurious than
on others. The Double Bass player, for instance, is compelled, from the
size of his instrument, to have the musical notation placed at a greater
distance before him than is naturally convenient for his sight, which
renders it necessary for him to exert his eyes in an extraordinary
degree. Thus much from Sundelin's 'Medical Adviser,' to which the
following remarks may be added.
The musical instruments used by our forefathers, two or three centuries
ago, were softer and more soothing in quality of sound than our present
ones; at any rate, this was the case with the stringed instruments, and
the wind instruments of the flute kind. Certain wind instruments of the
trumpet kind had a very harsh sound; but these were intended especially
to be played in the open air. Of the stringed instruments principally
favoured in family circles--such as the lute, cither, clavichord,
virginal, harpsichord, etc.,--almost all possessed a less exciting
quality of sound than our present substitutes for them. The same was the
case with the music composed for the instruments; it did not possess the
passionate modulations which characterize much of our music of the
present day. It was, therefore, evidently more conducive to social
comfort, and consequently to health, than is our modern music,
notwithstanding the progress which has been made in the cultivation of
the art. Martin Luther said to an old hypochondriac schoolmaster who
complained to him of his miserable feelings: "Take to the Clavichord!"
Everyone acquainted with the character of the clavichord will probably
admit that Luther's advice was judicious. The soft and unpretending
sound of the clavichord is so expressive that the instrument may be said
to respond to the sufferer as a sympathizing friend; while its
successor, the loud and brilliant pianoforte, is apt to convey the
impression of being cold and heartless, unless it is touched by a
master-hand. Thus also the "trembling lute," and some other antiquated
instruments appear to be remarkably suitable for consoling and calming
the anxious heart.
The glass-harmonica is evidently hurtful to the health of the performer.
We have seen that Sundelin attributes its injurious effect to the
friction of the fingers upon the bowls, which revolve on a spindle. But
it is a well-ascertained fact that the fascinating sound of this
instrument exercises a distressing influence also upon persons who do
not play it, but who often listen to it. Likewise, certain wind
instruments of a so-called reedy quality of sound, as, for instance, the
harmonium, are probably injurious rather than beneficial to the health
of the players. Sounds of this nature are generally very pleasant when
heard for a short time, but soon become harassing. They might be
compared with confectionery, a little of which may be very palatable and
innocuous, but which if made a meal of would probably produce sickness.
The effect of music upon animals is a subject for investigation so
closely connected with an inquiry into the influence of music upon the
human body, that some notice of it must not be omitted here. The
investigation requires far more discernment than would appear at a first
glance. Many of the anecdotes recorded respecting the effect of music
upon animals are not properly authenticated; or rather, they are
misrepresentations of facts not clearly understood by the observers. Nor
is it surprising that this should be the case, considering how difficult
it is to appreciate rightly the mental capacities even of our domestic
animals, which we have constant opportunity of watching. Nothing is more
common, even with intelligent observers, than to attribute to a dog
certain motives for certain actions, which may possibly be the real
motives, but which may also only appear to be the real ones. Acute and
thoroughly unbiassed investigators, such as was for instance Gilbert
White of Selborne, about a hundred years ago, are rare. At all events,
many of the anecdotes given in works on Natural History, as illustrating
the power of music upon animals, have evidently been copied by one
author from another without any one of them having taken the trouble to
ascertain by careful observation whether they are well founded. With
quadrupeds it is probably generally more the rhythmical effect of the
music than the tones which pleases them; while birds appear to be
pleased by the tones rather than by the rhythm. All this requires more
exact investigation than it has hitherto received; and surely it
deserves the consideration of a Darwin.
In conclusion, attention may be drawn to a curious fact which is perhaps
more interesting to musical antiquarians than to medical men. It is well
known that the barbers in England, about three centuries ago, generally
had some musical instruments in their shops for the amusement of their
customers. In Germany it is still not unusual to meet with a musical
barber. In former times the barbers were also surgeons and physicians to
some extent. It would be interesting to trace the origin of their habit
of cultivating the art of music. It is probably of high antiquity. May
it not date from a remote period in which the physicians of European
nations resorted to music and incantations like the medicine-men of
uncivilized tribes of whom an account has been given in the beginning of
this essay?
[Illustration]
[43] 'Illustrations of the Manners, Customs and Condition of the North
American Indians, by G. Catlin.' London, 1848; Volume I., p. 40.
[44] 'Four Years in British Columbia and Vancouver Island, by R. C.
Mayne.' London, 1862; p. 261.
[45] 'Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition during the
years 1838-42, by Charles Wilkes.' London, 1845; Vol. IV., p. 399.
[46] 'Missionary Labours in British Guiana,' by the Rev. J. H. Bernau;
London, 1847. p. 55.
[47] 'Two Thousand Miles' Ride through the Argentine Provinces,' by
William MacCann; London, 1853. Vol. I., p. 111.
[48] _Machi_ is evidently identical with _Manchi_.
[49] 'The Geographical, Natural, and Civic History of Chili,' by the
Abbe Don J. Ignatius Molina; London, 1809. Vol. II., p. 105.
[50] 'The Araucanians,' by E. R. Smith; London, 1855; p. 235.
[51] 'A Description of Patagonia and the adjoining parts of South
America,' by Thomas Faulkner; Hereford, 1774; p. 115.
[52] 'Journal of a Residence among the Negroes in the West Indies,' by
M. G. Lewis; London, 1845; p. 158.
[53] The word _Obeah_ is probably identical with _Piaie_, mentioned
above, page 89.
[54] 'History of Loango,' by the Abbe Proyard; Paris, 1776. 'A General
Collection of Voyages and Travels,' by John Pinkerton; London, 1808;
Vol. XIV., p. 572.
[55] 'Reisen in Sued-Africa,' von Ladislaus Magyar; Pest, 1859; Vol. I.,
p. 26.
[56] 'The Kafirs of Natal and the Zulu Country,' by J. Shooter; London,
1857; p. 173.
[57] 'Outlines of a Grammar, Vocabulary, and Phraseology of the
Aboriginal Language of South Australia.' By G. C. Teichelmann and C. W.
Schuermann. Adelaide, 1840; part II.
[58] 'An Historical Journal of the Transactions at Port Jackson and
Norfolk Islands.' By John Hunter. London, 1793; p. 476.
[59] 'Nineteen Years in Polynesia.' By the Rev. G. Turner. London, 1861.
[60] Dried dung, which constitutes the chief, and indeed in many places
the sole fuel in Tartary, is called _argols_.
[61] 'Travels in Tartary, Thibet, and China, during the years 1844-46,'
by M. Huc; Vol. I., p. 76.
[62] 'Travels in South-eastern Asia,' by H. Malcom; Boston, 1839; Vol.
II., p. 197.
[63] 'Six Months in British Burmah,' by C. F. Winter; London, 1858; p.
161.
[64] 'Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung;' Leipzig, 1841, No. 17.
[65] 'Travels and Observations relating to Barbary,' by Thomas Shaw. 'A
General Collection of Voyages and Travels,' by J. Pinkerton; London,
1808; Vol. XV., p. 635.
[66] 'A Voyage to Abyssinia, etc.' By Henry Salt. London, 1814; p. 33.
[Illustration]